Page 40 of Fierce Love (Tucker Billionaires)

Chapter Thirty-Three

Nathaniel

T he first four episodes are done, and even though the network is happy with the content, they’re coming in hot on other things they now want.

Obnoxious product placements aren’t enough.

Their goal seems to be to mess around with episode storylines to elevate the drama.

We’re a fucking home-reno show. It’s not supposed to be high drama—at least, not in the way they’re trying to create it.

I read the long email they’ve sent with what they’re hoping for, and I sigh. If only I had enough money and clout to bypass their input completely, I’d tell them to go fuck themselves. But I need a few more shows under my belt before I can go that forceful.

My phone buzzes on the desk beside me in the office, and I glance at it.

Ava has started sending the family voice notes like she’s starring in her own podcast and we’re her captive audience.

Today, she’s sent a long sequence of notes about the various investor contacts she’s been mining through Dad’s associates. Old men with old money.

Our father has been too preoccupied with the bids he and King Alexander have been putting together to bring a World Hockey League franchise team to the island to pay much attention to Ava’s escapades.

Last I heard, they had a chance at a hockey team the WHL wanted to move from California.

Alex and my father would then be able to justify the sizeable arena that’s been greenlit by the Advisory Council and has already broken ground.

If I didn’t already have enough on my plate with the threats to Kinsley and Hollyn as well as keeping this production on track, I’d be inserting myself into Ava’s drama before she gets herself in over her head.

She might think she knows everything—including how to manipulate a man rather than being manipulated herself—but Dad’s golf buddies aren’t to be trifled with.

I flip my phone over so I’m not distracted by Ava, but it doesn’t take long for other thoughts not linked to work to draw my attention.

I’ve spent the last four weeks abiding by Hollyn’s wishes. At work, we act like we barely know each other. No special treatment, no lingering glances—or at least, I try not to linger—and we haven’t directly mentioned that we’re sharing a house.

Bellerive is a whole country, but it often acts like a small town. There are probably people involved in the production who know exactly what’s happening between Hollyn and me, but I’m counting on their professionalism to match ours.

Kinsley’s been training like mad for her first youth adventure race, which Bellerive is hosting at the end of the summer.

Hollyn reluctantly agreed to let Kinsley participate.

Production on the show should have wrapped by then, and they could go back to New York.

It gave me a spark of hope that she agreed, but Hollyn’s emotional distance isn’t doing much to turn that spark into a flame.

I get her body when we’re alone in the house together—in any way I want, whenever I want.

But unlike in high school where I felt like I also had her heart, even though she never said the words, I’m not as sure this time.

That uncertainty could be my instinctive caution.

Who wants to have their heart crushed twice?

Or she really could be holding back or maybe not even feeling the same old emotional and physical intensity that I do.

Sometimes I think she does, and then she closes up, hard to read again.

It’s impossible to know without asking, but that’s equally dangerous. It wouldn’t take much to send Hollyn running, and I’m determined that if she leaves the island at the end of this and we’re not together in any capacity, I have to let her go.

It'll fucking kill me, but I can’t cling on to her anymore if she doesn’t want me.

I’ve wasted years half-assing my other romantic connections because I knew what I’d had.

To be happy, I was sure I needed to be swept away like I was with Hollyn.

Hot. Intense. All-consuming. Maybe that’s not realistic or even healthy.

When I’m with her, I can’t see anything or anyone else.

But I can’t be the only one who believes in us, who wants this. We have to fight for it together, and I’m not sure I’ll ever get there with her.

I pick up my phone and ignore the flurry of messages in the family group chat to text Posey and Hollyn to come to my office.

Their laughter floats through the door before I see them.

The sound sends a shot of warmth through me.

Getting a laugh out of Hollyn is rare, but Posey seems to be able to do it more often than most. The number of takes that have been ruined by the two of them cracking their TV personas to burst into laughter should make me frustrated.

But I love to see the friendship they’ve formed, the ease Hollyn has around Posey when she used to be so guarded.

They arrive at the door at the same time, and Hollyn’s smile is still wide when they both enter and slip into the seats across from me.

“Problems, boss?” Hollyn asks, arching a brow.

Definitely getting her to call me that later, maybe in a breathy voice as I bend her over some piece of furniture. The sight of her is an instant turn-on. It’s amazing I get any work done around here at all.

“Network problems again?” Posey asks, probably when she notices that I can’t quite drag my gaze off Hollyn.

“Yeah,” I say, leaning back in my chair.

“They say that Interflix wants a more dramatic episode before they’ll consider picking it up.

Realistically, I think the chances of Interflix picking up the series before we’ve done all the episodes and we’ve started showing them in Bellerive is slim, but I’m relatively new to all of this. ” I spread my hands wide.

“What kind of drama?” Hollyn asks. “At this point, it doesn’t even feel like reality TV.

Or at least not what I thought reality TV was.

Situations are edited deceptively. We work really closely with the clients to ensure we have a vision they’ll support before we even film.

Even which one of us will ‘win’ in an episode is often predetermined.

Nothing seems to be left to chance or circumstance. ”

“As long as they’re not pitting us against each other,” Posey says. “I’m happy to bring the drama.”

I wince. “Not exactly against each other. But they do want one of you to be out of touch with what the client needs or wants one episode. Really far out of touch.”

They both stare at me in silence, and I can tell, at least from Hollyn’s expression, that she’s working out what that might look like.

“They want a villain,” Hollyn says.

“I wouldn’t put it that way,” I say. “But they do want one of you to be really off and for the other person to…” I call up the email to try to remember how they phrased it.

“Give them a reality check?” Posey suggests.

“Something like that,” I agree, scanning the email. “Or exactly like that.”

Hollyn and Posey exchange a long look, and then Posey says, “I think it should be me.”

“Why?” Hollyn asks. “I’m probably better suited to be the villain.”

“There was an article about you living in Nate’s mansion today,” she says and hesitates before continuing, “and speculation that you two are together.” She waves her hand between us. “It was a blind item, but…”

Bellerive gossip is something I’ve lived with my whole life.

Any time I’ve dated anyone since I’ve returned from college, I’ve been the subject of multiple blind items. When I moved into producing television and movies, I also got hit with the gossip machine, and I’ve learned to live with it.

Ignore it, mostly. People are going to believe whatever they want.

But I can tell from Hollyn’s expression that she’s deeply uncomfortable.

“All the misogynistic assholes are going to think I slept my way into this job,” Hollyn says.

“Which is why I think I should be the one who gets it wrong,” Posey says. “Besides, I was raised next door to the palace. Nick, Brice, and Alex are practically my brothers. If anyone would be out of touch with reality, it would be me.”

“Except anyone who’s met you would know that’s not true,” Hollyn says.

“As you already pointed out, the show is far removed from reality,” Posey counters. “If the show gets picked up internationally, we just need a small grain of believability. It’s there, trust me.”

“What do you think?” Hollyn says, turning to look at me.

The truth is that I’m a little worried about how Hollyn will be received by Bellerive in general on the show.

She’s from a family of known criminals, she left the island for America, carved a place for herself in a world-famous interior design company, and returned to star in a television show.

We selected Hollyn because her poor background might make her relatable, but there’s little about her life after she left Bellerive that fits the bill.

Leaving here brought her success and turned her into an outsider.

“I think Posey is the wiser choice,” I say.

“Why?” Hollyn counters, and there’s an edge to her voice, as though she’s pulled my thoughts out of my brain and read every one.

“Subvert people’s expectations,” I say. “If we want drama, we go with the less obvious choice, and we can craft something believable about why Posey might be so off base with these particular clients. Root it in Bellerive history or culture somehow.” I scan them both for signs of discontent, and while Hollyn doesn’t look thrilled, this request was never going to make anyone happy.

“Am I good to push this out to the writers and other production staff?”

“Yes,” Posey says, and she takes Hollyn’s hand and gives it a squeeze. “Let the trolls try to come for me.”