Chapter 4 Reality Show?

—ALISSON (POV)

Once again, I find myself questioning my choices.

Not that I had many in this situation, anyway.

“Don’t worry too much, Ally. It’s just to go over the filming details. It’ll be easy—you’ll be great.” That’s what Logan said, though I could hear the uncertainty in his voice as he dragged me toward the thirty-floor mirrored building in downtown Boston.

At least I hope it’s just nerves and that he actually believes those words, because I don’t. With every step I take and every odd look I get as he leads me to the meeting room, my stomach sinks and regret grows.

The bitter taste in my mouth is almost unbearable, but when the CEO of Sterling Ivy Studios, Mr. Smith, extends his hand to greet me with a smile that nearly reaches his ears, I realize there’s no turning back.

“Alisson, right?” He takes my timid hand and gives it a firm, respectful shake, full of expectation, that makes me hold my breath for a moment. “I’ve heard a lot about you from your brother.”

“Good things, I hope,” I let out a nervous laugh—completely forced—glancing sideways at Logan and immediately regretting it because, of course, he said good things. Wonderful things. Pretty, ridiculous lies that convinced this big shot I’m a good option for a reality show, when the last thing I can offer is entertainment.

The CEO’s smile doesn’t falter, but something in his eyes makes it narrow for a second.

“Enough to make me curious,” Mr. Smith says, calmly letting go of my hand. “And curiosity is a valuable opportunity in our line of work.”

Logan steps forward, taking up space with irritating ease. Back to his agent’s posture—the one that can sell the perfect image even when the cracks are visible to everyone.

“Ally has a natural presence…” His hand hovers for a second at my back, almost guiding me, almost pushing me forward, and I can’t tell which bothers me more. “She just doesn’t realize it yet.”

Natural presence.

I almost laugh, but I hold it in.

My natural tendency is to lean on sharp words, avoid closeness, and want to disappear whenever someone pays too much attention.

“Is that so?” Mr. Smith tilts his head slightly, studying me again, this time with more interest. “Then let’s see it in action with McKenna.”

My heart gives an uncomfortable jump.

“To be honest, Alisson, I wasn’t very convinced you’d be a good fit. I thought it was just a desperate move by Logan to make this work. But I was willing to give you a chance to make a good first impression… After all, we’re running out of options.”

The CEO’s words hit me with a contradictory force that almost knocks the ground out from under me.

On the one hand, the relief of escape comes in a treacherous wave that, when it recedes, leaves a cold ache deep in my chest. If this doesn’t work, I won’t have the money to pay for Leah’s camera. And Logan will probably lose his job, since no one wants to be associated with a known maniac.

And as much as I hate that guy…

I sneak a glance at my brother’s pale face, and guilt slaps me hard across the face.

…Logan doesn’t deserve that.

I look back at Mr. Smith, ready to argue, to swallow my pride and somehow prove that I can do this. That I am the right choice. The only one—

“Now… I’m sure if you’re not what we’re looking for.” He cuts through my thoughts before my tongue can betray me and say exactly what I think about Tristan McKenna.

Logan lets out a short breath beside me, wanting to interrupt, correct, or fix the disaster unfolding, but Mr. Smith raises a hand lightly without even looking at him.

“You look like you’d rather be anywhere else, Alisson. And the person who takes this role needs to be fully committed to the cause—cleaning up Tristan McKenna’s image. Turning him into a misunderstood kid instead of a bully with anger issues.”

My lips part, but not to let persuasive words escape… they stick, tangled in my throat as if they, too, doubt me, for a moment that feels too long…

But not long enough, because soon the door opens and the atmosphere shifts instantly.

I don’t even need to turn around. I don’t, at first… I just feel his presence like a physical force that steals all the air for itself, and the room grows colder, quieter, to the point that I can hear my own heartbeat in my ear…

“Ah, perfect timing.” Mr. Smith’s voice takes on an almost satisfied tone and, strangely, sounds muffled, as if I’m underwater… “We were just talking about you.”

I turn slowly, my hands clammy, and regret it immediately because today, in this stupidly small room, the star of the REBELS looks even more imposing… and irritated.

Tristan’s jet-black hair isn’t damp with sweat anymore, not messy in that wild way, but combed to the left in an attempt to look more formal, more serious. Even so, stubborn strands insist on falling out of place—back, to the other side, over his forehead. It’s like there’s nothing about this man that can be tamed.

He’s not wearing jersey 88 or anything from the uniform. If it weren’t for his height and muscular build, nothing would give him away as an athlete. I didn’t remember him being this big… or maybe he just never got close enough for me to notice how—damn—good his body looks.

But what really makes me hold my breath is his green eyes. They don’t shine with that madness anymore, that rage that could set anything on fire if it wanted to. Now they’re cold. Cold and narrowed. His thick brows draw down slightly, sharpening his gaze in a mix of irritation and, to my dismay, recognition.

“This is Alisson… one of your possible co-stars, McKenna.”

He looks me up and down, and I resist the urge to push my glasses up and look away. Instead, for some stupid, prideful reason, I meet his gaze. Damn it, I hold it until he stops on the other side of the table, sizing me up from head to toe.

“Heh, is that right?” He lets out a low, rough chuckle from the back of his throat. Not amused. Not interested. Just pure, unmistakable sarcasm. “You sure about that, Alisson?”

The way he says my name makes the air leave me slowly, but sends a shiver up my spine.

“…Do you really want to share the same roof with a violent maniac for weeks?”