Blitz: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romantic Comedy (Blast Brothers Book 3)

by Sabrina Stark

  I moved closer for a better look. As I did, her face became all too-familiar.

  I paused in mid-step. Fuck.

  Not that book.

  It wasn't due out for another few months, which was supposed to give me plenty of time for damage control – and to warn my brothers.

  No wonder Mason was pissed.

  But hey, I was pissed too.

  Not at Mason.

  At Angelique.

  Chapter 28

  Chase

  The next morning, I arrived at the office early only to find Brody leaning back in my chair with his heels propped onto the surface of my desk.

  It was a dick move, and I should know. I'd been doing it to Mason for years. But if Brody thought he could get a rise out of me, he was dead wrong.

  I was no Mason.

  I stopped in the open doorway and glanced at my watch. It was just past seven, and I'd come in early to get my ducks in a row before the shit hit the fan.

  The real shit-show wouldn't be happening for a few months, but today was when Mason and I would be discussing damage control.

  Last night, Mason had gotten too cranked for his own good, but he was right about one thing. A public relations plan couldn’t hurt.

  Taking my sweet time, I strolled forward and claimed one of my visitor's chairs. As I sat, Brody frowned.

  I knew why. I should be booting him from my chair.

  Not today.

  Today, he could have it.

  As I made myself comfortable in one of the chairs opposite him, I asked, "Aren't you supposed to be in Colorado?"

  "Not anymore."

  "Why not?"

  "Because," he said, "I’m spending the day at the office."

  "Yeah, but why?"

  "The way I hear it, to keep you and Mason from killing each other."

  I gave him a look, but said nothing.

  With a laugh, he said, "Hey, it wasn't my idea."

  "So whose was it? Mason's?"

  "Are you kidding?" he said. "Nah. It was Arden's. Or maybe Cami's. Either way, they figured I should be here."

  Arden was Brody's fiancée. Cami was Mason's. Arden and Cami were best friends, which meant that a lot of communication went on behind the scenes.

  I asked, "Don't you have something better to do?"

  I didn't mean it as an insult. Brody's job was important, and it didn't involve sitting around talking about my sex life – or rather, my sex life according to Angelique Delmonico, who I'd dated off and on for maybe three months.

  Across from me, Brody said, "Too late now. The flight's already canceled."

  "So grab another," I said. "We'll be fine."

  He scoffed, "Says you."

  "C'mon," I said. "When have I ever lost control?" Sure, I made other people lose control, but even that I could handle.

  Brody said, "Maybe it's not you they're worried about."

  "So Mason then?"

  "Hard to say. But I'm supposed to give you a message."

  "From who?"

  He gave me an ominous look. "From both of them."

  So, Arden and Cami?

  This should be good. With a scoff, I said, "Alright, let's hear it."

  "I'm supposed to tell you that goading him won't help matters."

  Him – meaning Mason of course.

  If I were the type to sigh, I would've done it now. I had two brothers and one little sister. The sister was still in grade school, which meant that I wasn't accustomed to getting sisterly advice, especially of the unwanted variety.

  These days, I was getting a double dose.

  Arden and Cami were full of helpful ideas. And whether they realized it or not, they shared some of the blame for my recent change in behavior. They'd gotten me thinking, and not in a good way.

  I didn't want to be thinking, especially now. Deliberately, I changed the subject. "So, what about Colorado?"

  "I'll head out tonight," he said. "Assuming you and Mason are done fighting."

  Oh, for fuck's sake. "We're not gonna fight."

  Across from me, Brody looked unconvinced. "We'll see." He removed his feet from my desk and leaned forward in my chair. In a low voice, he said, "Speaking of fights, how much of it is true?"

  "You mean in the book?" I shrugged. "Don't know, I haven't read it."

  "You're kidding."

  "Nope."

  Brody's eyebrows furrowed. "But I thought Mason left it with you."

  "He did, but I only skimmed it."

  "And?"

  "And it's ninety percent horseshit."

  "And the other ten?"

  "Ask me when I'm done reading it." I paused at the realization that Brody was familiar with some of Angelique's claims. "Wait a minute, did you read it."

  Brody shook his head. "Nah, but Mason texted me a picture of the outside – front and back. That's why I asked about the fights."

  Right. The fights. According to the description on the back cover, my relationship with Angelique had been volatile, with plenty of knock-down, drag-out fights. She'd called them screaming matches.

  What a joke. She'd done her share of screaming, alright, but most of that had been in the bedroom, and it hadn't been with anger.

  As far as our relationship, we didn't have one – not the way she made it sound.

  I might've found the book hilarious, if only people I cared about wouldn't be dragged through the mud with me.

  And then, there was our business to consider.

  Our company made some of the best tools around, but this wasn't the only reason they sold like wildfire. They sold because we'd generated plenty of publicity through the TV show.

  Until now, nearly all of it had been positive.

  Sure, the show wasn't always what I'd call wholesome, but it wasn't raunchy either. And yeah, maybe I had a certain reputation for getting around, but not for fighting, cheating, or drinking, not to mention the other stuff.

  Unprompted, I thought of my little sister. Willow was the oops-baby that both of my now-dead parents had abandoned. Thanks to Mason's eternal vigilance, she'd been sheltered from most of the bullshit that came with fortune and fame.

  But it wasn't always easy, and the book wouldn't help matters, especially if I came across as abusive or some kind of degenerate.

  I mean, hey, a little degeneracy made life interesting. But too much, and you start looking like a raging pervert.

  With an effort, I returned my thoughts to the business.

  Perversion didn't sell tools. And neither did screaming matches with buxom blonde journalists – or whatever Angelique was calling herself these days.

  To Brody, I said, "As far as the fighting, that was all Angelique, not me."

  It was no lie. Angelique had two settings – hot and crazy. The hot part I'd liked. The crazy part was hit or miss.

  A few months ago, she'd warned me that she was going to get even with me for breaking up with her.

  Breaking up.

  Like she and I had ever been exclusive.

  We hadn't. And I'd been up-front about it, too.

  After our so-called breakup, a few months had passed with no sign of her promised revenge. I'd almost forgotten the whole thing until her recent voicemail.

  The voicemail had been long and ranting. Technically, it was five voicemails, one after another because she kept running out of time.

  Come to think of it, I'd listened to most of these voicemails outside the coffee shop where I'd first met Mina.

  Huh. No wonder I'd been in a shitty mood.

  My mood wasn't terrific today either, considering that Mason had seen the book before I did. Apparently, someone at the publishing house had slipped him an advance copy on the sly.

  His copy wasn't even part of the print run, but rather some advance mockup for the production people. Even the reviewers wouldn't be getting copies for at least a month or two.

  Unlike me, Mason had read the book from cover to cover. I knew this because last night's fatherly lecture was still fresh in
my brain. He'd quoted passages from the book word-for-word, including a particular passage dealing with me and a few of Angelique's friends.

  The word orgy was used more than once.

  The lecture might've been funny, if only Mason hadn't believed every single word of what Angelique had claimed. He hadn't said so, but the look on his face had made it plain enough.

  In the end, I'd let him say his piece and be done with it.

  It was either that or kick his ass. And last night, I hadn't been in the mood for ass-kicking, whether to give or receive.

  With Mason, it could've played out either way.

  He'd left a half-hour after his arrival with the suggestion – some might say a command – that we meet early this morning to hash out a plan for mitigating the damage.

  So, here I was, in the office and ready to roll.

  I already had a plan, too. And it involved a certain farmer's daughter who was no Angelique.

  Chapter 29

  Mina

  This was my third time in Chase's office, and I still wasn't used to it. Or maybe I wasn't used to him.

  From behind his desk, he said, "Change of plans."

  It was nine o'clock in the morning, and I was sitting in one of his visitor's chairs, feeling more than a little nervous.

  A couple of hours ago, I'd received an email from Chase himself, telling me that our meeting scheduled for this afternoon had been moved up to nine o'clock this morning.

  Just in time, I'd arrived at Blast Headquarters, where I'd been escorted up to his office not by Chase himself, but by his assistant.

  That was fine by me. I didn't need a personal escort, but I did need the sponsorship – now more than ever, considering that I'd already given my parents the good news.

  Since then, the news had only spread, and not through me.

  Even though my mom had been skeptical when I'd first told her, that hadn't stopped her from sharing the announcement far and wide among her circle of friends, probably to fend off further rumors from Ginger Hawthorne.

  Now, as I sat in Chase's office, I said a silent prayer that my good news hadn't been premature. Reluctantly, I asked, "What kind of change?"

  He leaned back in his chair. "Here's the deal," he said. "I want to go bigger."

  "Oh." Something in my shoulders eased. "Bigger how?"

  As I listened, Chase explained that he wanted to get the TV people involved and tie it to a larger campaign. Among other things, he mentioned advertising spots, social media plans, and even personal appearances. By who, he didn't say.

  But it was easy to guess that he probably meant himself and possibly his two brothers. Who knows, maybe he'd even include Arden Weathers.

  Arden was Brody Blastoviak's fiancée, and I almost felt like I knew her.

  Last year, I'd watched along with millions of other people as she and Brody had fallen in love while remodeling a beach house right here in Bayside.

  Embarrassingly, I'd loved watching that even more than I'd loved watching the transformation of the house itself.

  Probably, it was all the fireworks, and I didn't mean the Fourth-of-July kind.

  When Chase finished talking, I was almost too stunned to speak. "Wow, that is big."

  "And it might get bigger," he said. "Any questions?"

  I had a ton of questions, but no idea where to begin. And although I was obnoxiously pleased that he was planning to take my idea and run with it, my primary concern remained unchanged.

  I felt to compelled to say, "But you're still going to allocate money for the festivals, right?"

  He smiled. "No."

  My stomach sank. "What?"

  "You're going to allocate it. And you'll get a commission."

  I wasn't following. "Excuse me?"

  "Five percent commission," he said. "That's your cut of the festival budget."

  "But wait, why would I get a cut?"

  "Because it was your idea," he said. "And I want you hands-on throughout the process."

  "Hands-on?" I wasn't even sure what that meant. "Sorry, could you be more specific?"

  "Lemme back up," he said. "Our total contribution will be a million even."

  My jaw dropped. A million? As in dollars?

  I'd proposed half that amount, and had felt slightly outrageous doing it. But there'd been a method to my madness. There were a hundred festivals on my list, and I'd suggested an average of five-thousand dollars per festival, with some getting more and some getting less, depending on their need and participation level.

  Now, each festival would get an average of ten-thousand dollars.

  It was terrific news, but there had to be a catch. I mean, no one would offer double the money for nothing.

  Would they?

  Across from me, Chase continued like the amount was no big deal. "But you're gonna have to do more than divvy it up," he explained. "You're gonna have to deal with the festival people, too."

  Like that was a hardship. I'd have the happy task of giving them money, playing Santa Claus with funds that weren't even my own.

  It sounded like a blast – and I meant that literally, considering that I'd be doing this on behalf of Blast Tools.

  Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right. "Can I ask you something?"

  "Go ahead."

  "Why would you double it? I mean, it's terrific news, but I guess I'm a little surprised."

  "Don't be," he said. "The money's not a donation. It's a sponsorship, which means I'll be wanting things in return." He gave me a serious look. "It'll be up to you to get them."

  Was that the catch? "What sort of things?"

  "Nothing they won't be willing to give."

  I was familiar with the concept. When the bank had agreed to sponsor the Tomato Festival, they'd wanted their own booth, their names on all of the programs, and a banner across the midway. For this, they'd been willing to donate seven-thousand dollars.

  Somehow, I had the distinct feeling that Chase would be expecting more. This wasn't unreasonable.

  And yet, I still felt like I was missing something. "But you never said. Why'd you double it?"

  "Because a million is a nice round number," he said. "It rolls off the tongue better than five-hundred thousand. It'll look good in print, too."

  By now, my head was swimming, even more so when I recalled something he'd said a few moments ago. "Wait a minute, the commission you mentioned. You said I'd get five percent?" My pulse quickened. "Of what amount?"

  His eyebrows lifted. "You know the amount."

  I swallowed. "A million? Seriously?"

  Now this was some happy math. Five percent of a million was fifty thousand. This was more than my annual salary at the bank, and a lot more than I'd been making as a barista.

  This had to be a dream. As the numbers swirled in my head, I heard myself say, "My commission – does that come out of the festival money?"

  "No, it's separate. You'll be giving away a million even."

  Wow.

  I was still reeling when he said, "And you'll need to sign a contract."

  "Sure, anything."

  "Anything?" He steepled his fingers. "So you're prepared to sign away your soul, huh?"

  At that moment, he looked so devilishly handsome that I might've been tempted, if only I didn't know exactly how such stories ended.

  I tried to laugh. "Oh, please. What would you want with my soul?"

  Chapter 30

  Chase

  She had no idea.

  Today, she wore a little white dress that made her look way too innocent sitting across from me.

  In the morning sun, her golden hair shimmered around her face – not quite a halo, but the next best thing. Her eyes were baby blue, and her makeup was subtle.

  She looked exactly like she was – a nice hometown girl from a decent family – the kind I'd never known growing up.

  As far as her soul, I didn't want her to sell it – not to me or to anyone else.

  But I d
id want to borrow it for a while, maybe parade it around for the cameras until people forgot about the bullshit in the book.

  I was going to be straight with her, too. I might be a bastard, but I was no liar.

  I told her, "There's just one catch."

  She stiffened in her chair. "Oh?"

  Just then, my office door opened, and Mason appeared in the doorway. He looked to me and asked, "You forgetting something?"

  I knew what he meant. We were supposed to meet sometime between nine and ten, depending on his other appointments. I glanced at the nearby clock. The current time was 9:20.

  I told him, "I'll catch you when I'm done."

  His mouth tightened. "We had a meeting."

  "I am in a meeting," I said. "Just not with you."

  With a frown, he looked to Mina, sitting in my visitor's chair. She hadn't turned around. Instead, she was pretending to study her notepad – the one she'd been carrying when she'd arrived.

  During the past twenty minutes, she'd taken no notes, which told me there was nothing to study except blank pages.

  Probably, she was being polite by not turning around to stare. If so, she was in for a rude awakening.

  Mason wasn't polite.

  And neither was I.

  In the open doorway, he said, "So end it."

  The meeting? If he meant this one, he could stick it where the sun didn't shine. "Sure thing." I smiled. "When I’m good and ready."

  "Perfect," he said. "As long as you're 'good and ready' in five minutes. I've got a packed schedule."

  He always had a packed schedule.

  Still, this wasn't like him to barge in on my meetings, much less order me to end them early. Obviously, he was still pissed about the book.

  If so, that made two of us. But unlike him, I was in the process of dealing with it. And this process involved the girl in my visitor's chair.

  I told Mason, "You're not the only one."

  His gaze shifted to Mina, and he frowned like he'd just caught me naked with an intern.

  I felt compelled to say, "This is business."

  He was still looking at Mina, who was still studying her notepad. He gave her a long, penetrating look, taking in her long blonde hair and whatever else he saw from the open doorway. With a hard scoff, he replied, "Yeah, I bet."

  His implication was obvious, and for some reason, I didn't like it. With cool deliberation, I pushed back my chair and stood. "Ten minutes," I told him. "And if you don't like it…" I paused. "Too bad."