Falling Into Love with You (The Hate-Love Duet Book 2) by Rowe, Lauren (grave mercy .TXT) 📕

you leave my name in ‘Hate Sex High’ and make it your leadoff single? The song is amazing, and with all the publicity swirling around us, I bet that sexy little Easter egg buried in the mix will give the song even more buzz. It might even become your biggest hit yet.”

Savage looks excited. “Are you sure you don’t mind your name being in there?”

“Ha! You admit you sang my name!”

“No, I’m merely adopting your crazy megalomaniacal version of reality for the purposes of my question.”

He’s so full of it. Any sane human would hear my name at the end of those “la la” parts, as clear as a bell. But there’s no point in arguing with him. He’ll obviously never concede the point. “Yes, I’m sure,” I say. “After what you said about me at the press conference, everyone thinks you’re desperately in love with me. So, in that case, I’m now thinking it’d be kind of cool for people to think I’m not only the great love of your life, I’m also the freak in the sheets you made come three times. Plus, like I said, the smartest move in terms of marketing is making that song the leadoff single, with my name all over it.”

He snickers. “Reed already picked that song as the first single. He was furious when I told him I needed to rerecord the ‘la la’ lines to take out the part some insane megalomaniac had interpreted as her name.”

“You already told Reed about rerecording those parts? That was fast.”

Savage makes a face like it’s not a big deal. “You said you wanted it out and the album is set to drop soon, so . . .”

“I’m sorry if I freaked everyone out about changing it. Now that I’ve had a minute to get used to the idea, I don’t mind the world knowing the song is about me. In fact, I kind of like the idea of them knowing.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure it thrills you to no end that I’m now going to look like as big a liar as you.”

“Huh?”

“At the press conference, I said there are no songs on the album about you. And now, suddenly, I’m going to release an album that some people might interpret as containing the name Laila?”

I snort. “You’re never going to admit you’re singing Laila in those parts, are you?”

“I’m simply conceding there are probably lots more nutjobs in this world than you who’ll wrongly hear your name in those same parts, the way you did.”

I roll my eyes. “Well, it serves you right to look like a liar, seeing as how you are one, for denying you’re singing ‘Laila.’ Plus, it’s only fair, since I had to admit I was a liar on Sylvia. But don’t worry, people will think you only lied during the press conference to protect my privacy, which only makes you an even more swoonworthy boyfriend.”

“More swoonworthy?” he says. “You admit I was already swoonworthy?”

“I admit nothing. I’m merely conceding there are probably plenty more nutjobs in this world than you who’d think so.”

Savage belly laughs. “Touché, Fitzy. Too-fucking-shay.”

Butterflies.

They’ve just now whooshed into my belly at the sound of his laughter.

With a little wink to me, Savage returns to his phone, so I look out the car window for a while, biting back a huge smile. After a few minutes of staring at the coastline, I realize our car has headed far enough north that we must be heading into Malibu. “Do you think we’re going to be staying in Malibu?”

Savage looks up from his phone and looks around for a beat. “It sure looks like we’re headed there.”

“I hope that’s where we’ll be living,” I say. “I love Malibu.”

“Me, too. I love the ocean.”

“So do I. I wish I could wake up every day of my life and see it, first thing.”

“You can. By the end of the season, you’ll have two million bucks in your bank account. Buy yourself a beachfront condo, if that’s your pleasure.”

I press my lips together. That’s not going to happen, for several reasons. After taxes and commissions, and a few important things I want to do for my family, there won’t be much left of that two million bucks. Certainly, not enough to upgrade my small condo in the Valley to something along the coast. Beachfront property isn’t cheap. Plus, Savage is assuming I’ll make it to the end of the season on the show. When in reality, that’s not a certainty.

Unfortunately, when Daria and I finally got my contract from the show yesterday, it contained a buy-out clause that would allow the show to terminate me at any time for a payment of a hundred grand. Daria said the clause was non-negotiable. A dealbreaker. So, I signed on the dotted line. Luckily, Daria also assured me the chances the producers would exercise the buy-out were virtually nil. But, still, to be safe, I’m not going to spend a dime of my earnings from the show unless and until I’m positive I’m going to be around for the long haul. And even then, most of my salary will go toward helping my family in ways I’ve dreamed of doing for a while now, so a beachfront condo will have to wait.

The car makes a turn off the highway that makes it clear my Malibu guess was right, and ten minutes later, our SUV pulls to a stop in front of a large, gated home that’s instantly recognizable to me—a cliffside mansion I’ve seen countless times on one of my favorite reality TV shows.

“Oh my gosh!” I blurt, my butt dancing on the car seat beneath me. “This is the mansion from The Engagement Experiment!”

Six

Savage

As our SUV rolls to a stop in front of a large Mediterranean-style home seated on a cliff in Malibu, Laila shrieks, “My mom and sister are going to freak out we’re living at the mansion from The Engagement Experiment!”

I’ve never watched the long-running reality TV dating show Laila’s