Free Naomi & Bradley, Reality Shows... (Vodka & Vice, the Series Book 3) by Angela Conrad, Kathleen Hesser Skrzypczak

fully-charged and springing to life.  It pings and vibrates until I can’t take it anymore.  I leave Naomi fast asleep in our bed and retrieve the phone from the kitchen.  Pour myself a glass of water, scroll through the messages and alerts.  There must be twenty messages from Tim Smith. 
    --This isn’t over, fuckhead.
    --You think you can just walk away?  No one walks away from FSTScom Media.
    --7:00.  Out front.  Town car.  Be in it.
    And the last one, which put the smile back on my face:
    -- ANSWER ME!!!!!!!!!!!
    No mention of lawsuits, contract breaches, or million dollar penalties.  No, Tim Smith was a desperate man.  I crawl back into bed and snuggle up to Naomi.  She doesn’t move, so I brush her hair off her face and prop myself up on one hand.  It’s a little past sunrise.  Gold sun pours in through the skylight, illuminating half of her face, like the moon.  I think that’s a lot like the way I know her now.  I’ve seen the light and I’ve seen the dark.  Now I want to spend my life getting to know all the in-between moods.  We were getting to that point when that asshole Chase entered our lives and almost ruined our chances forever.  Anger stirs up briefly inside me, but just then her eyes flutter open.
    “Hey you,” she whispers, caressing my face. 
    “Hey back,” I say, kissing her gently on the lips.  She arches up under my kiss and explores my mouth with her tongue.  Her hand slips down my stomach, between my thighs, caressing my balls.  I let out a little groan.
    “Sorry,” she says, biting her lip and batting her eyelashes.
    “I don’t believe you.  You aren’t one bit sorry.” I glance at the bedside clock.  It’s almost seven.
    She pulls me on top of her and bucks her hips up to meet mine.  I can feel her hot breath in my ear.  We move together in our familiar rhythm until we both cry out at the same time.  Afterward, we lay in silence, her wrapped in my arms.  I check the clock again.
    “You have someplace to be?”  She laughs.
    “Well, kind of.”
    She pushes back a little, props herself up on one elbow.  “Really?”
    I grab my phone from the bedside table and hand it to her.
    “Are you kidding me?  Those asshats!  Just don’t go.”
    “Naomi, I have to go.  They’re going to get me one way or another.  Either for breach of contract or arson.  The only way to get out of it is to do what they want and finish the show.”
    “I don’t care about the money, Bradley.  I bet I have twice as much coming to me.  We’ll pay them off, go live somewhere in the south where it’s cheap.  I hate it here, anyway.”
    “I committed a crime and they might have it on tape.  I’m sorry.  I know it was stupid, but they wanted me to plant child pornography in one of the guy’s rooms.  He has a wife and almost five kids.  I couldn’t do that to him.”
    “My god, they really are monsters.  It’s okay, I probably would have done something equally as crazy.”
    A horn sounds outside.  The buzzer rings.  At the door is that weasel, Gus.
    “Good morning Mr. Bradley.  Huh!  I thought you was gone, but the guy downstairs in the limo said you was here.  I told him he was crazy but I’d check anyway.  He was very insistent if ya know what I mean.”  He winks at me, raises one eyebrow. 
    Naomi calls over my shoulder.  “Gus, we know, it’s fine.  Tell him he’ll be right down.”
    “Alright, Miss Naomi.  And congratulations, Mr. Bradley.”
    “On what?”
    “Being the next Bachelor, of course.  Sheesh.  I guess fame’s gone all to your head.”
    “Goodbye, Gus.”  Naomi is standing right behind me now, nudging the door closed on Gus’s face.
    After the door is closed and locked, she turns to me, puts her hands on my shoulders.  “Now you listen to me, slick, you are gonna go finish the show and do whatever they want you to.  I’m gonna watch here at the apartment and know that not one bit of it is real.  When you’re