Chapter 473 - Proposal II

Chapter 473: Chapter 473 - Proposal II

"You need somebody famous for your show. You contacted my representative, and then you messaged me because I told him to send you my way."

She frowned. "And?"

"And now you’re sitting in my house asking me for help."

God, she hated hearing him say it.

"Yes, Zac. That’s generally what happens when somebody wants to arrange an interview."

He smiled.

"Interesting."

"What is?"

"Last time I saw you, you were telling me to go fuck myself."

Roxie went still.

She’d spent the entire afternoon trying to forget that particular detail, and now he was casually bringing it up while sitting half-naked in front of her.

"Well, you were being an asshole," she answered.

"And now you’re asking me for a favor."

Her fingers tightened around the laptop.

There it was.

Exactly what she’d been afraid of.

She’d known contacting him would be embarrassing, but she’d hoped he might respect her enough to separate their personal history from her work.

Apparently, she’d expected too much.

"Are you enjoying this?" she asked.

"A little."

Roxie laughed in disbelief.

"Wow. At least you’re admitting it."

Zac wiped his face again, looking entirely pleased with himself.

"Come on, Rox. You spent ten years keeping me blocked, and now you’re asking me to help your career. You have to admit that’s pretty funny."

She stared at him.

That stung.

Especially because she remembered exactly why she’d blocked him.

She’d spent weeks waiting for him to come back. She’d cried, humiliated herself, and eventually convinced herself she had to stop hoping.

Now he’d turned that into another reason to laugh at her.

Roxie closed her laptop.

"Well, I’m glad you’re having fun. I came here expecting an actual discussion. Clearly, that was my mistake."

Zac watched as she slid the laptop into her handbag.

"Where are you going?"

"Home. I have work tomorrow, and I’ve already wasted enough of my evening."

She stood and adjusted the strap of her bag. She’d tried to be polite, professional, and more patient than he deserved. If Zac wanted to spend his evening mocking her for needing his help, he could entertain himself.

"Roxie."

She turned toward him. "What?"

"I have terms."

Her hand stopped on the strap of her handbag.

Terms?

She looked at him suspiciously.

"What terms?"

Zac leaned back against the bench.

"Sit down."

Roxie almost laughed.

"Are you serious?"

"Do you want the interview?"

She stared at him.

God, she wanted to strangle him.

But she’d come all this way, and he was finally discussing the possibility of agreeing.

She reluctantly returned to her chair.

"Fine. What are your conditions?"

Roxie took out her laptop again.

"If you want restrictions on certain questions, that’s something we can discuss. I can’t promise complete editorial control, but I can accommodate reasonable requests. If you’re concerned about privacy, we can arrange a closed production."

"Put that away."

She frowned. "Why?"

"Because my conditions aren’t about filming."

Roxie slowly lowered her hands.

"Then what are they about?"

Zac watched her for a moment.

"I want to see you."

She blinked.

"You’re seeing me."

"Privately."

Roxie stared at him.

"Regularly."

For several seconds, she genuinely thought she’d misunderstood.

"Zac, what the fuck are you talking about?"

"You know what I’m talking about."

She looked at him, then laughed.

He had to be joking.

"Very funny. Can we discuss the actual interview now?"

"I’m serious."

Her laughter faded as she studied his face.

"Wait. Are you seriously suggesting that I sleep with you in exchange for an interview?"

"Yes."

Roxie stared at him.

Something in her chest hurt.

For a moment, she remembered the boy who’d once loved her so much that he’d promised to give her everything. That boy had been arrogant and infuriating too, but he’d loved her. Whatever happened between them afterward, she knew that part had been real.

Maybe she’d been stupid enough to hope some part of him was still there.

She’d told herself she was coming here strictly for business, but perhaps a small part of her had wondered whether he’d agree because he’d once cared about her.

Now he was sitting there offering to help her career in exchange for sleeping with him.

God, she couldn’t believe he’d ask this of her.

She laughed, although there was nothing particularly funny about the situation anymore.

"Wow. Just when I thought you’d reached the limit of how much of an asshole you could be, you managed to surprise me."

Zac remained calm.

"You’re free to refuse."

"Oh, how generous! Thank you for giving me permission to reject your ridiculous proposition."

She shut her laptop.

"Do you actually think I’m that desperate? That I’ll sleep with you because my show needs a famous guest?"

"I think you want the interview."

"Everybody wants an interview with you, Zac. That’s hardly a reason to start making demands about their personal lives!"

"I’m telling you what I’m offering."

Roxie stared at him.

God, she wanted to throw her handbag at his head.

She’d spent the entire evening trying to convince him to join her show, and the bastard had apparently been thinking about getting her back into his bed.

"Why me?" she demanded. "You could have almost any woman you want. You’ve got models following you around everywhere, and apparently enough money to buy half of Manhattan."

"Because I want to fuck you."

Roxie went quiet.

Then she laughed hollowly.

Want.

What a convenient word.

They both knew the attraction was still there. Italy had made that painfully obvious. But hearing him put it that way, without the slightest affection, hurt more than she wanted to admit.

"Fuck you."

"You already did." His mouth curved into another smirk. "If you don’t want it, the door’s open."

Roxie stared at him.

And suddenly, she understood.

He hated her.

God, he actually hated her.

She’d spent the entire evening wondering why he was being so difficult, why he insisted on working out while she talked, and why he kept reminding her that she needed his help.

Now it made sense.

He’d wanted her to come here. He’d wanted to see her sitting in his house, asking him for something, knowing she had very little to offer him professionally that he couldn’t get elsewhere.

And when she’d finally asked what he wanted, he’d made the most humiliating proposition he could think of.

Was this his revenge for their breakup?

Did he hate her that much?

The thought hurt more than she expected.

Ten years ago, she’d loved this man so much that she’d spent months waiting for him. Even after everything that happened in Italy, she’d still remembered the boy who used to tell her he would give her the world.

And apparently, he’d spent those same ten years learning how to make her feel small.

"You planned this?" she asked quietly.

Zac watched her.

"You invited me here knowing exactly what you were going to say?"

"I knew what I wanted."

Roxie laughed in disbelief.

"Of course you did. You sat there enjoying yourself while I explained my proposal, knowing you were going to ask me for something like this."

He said nothing.

"You could’ve told me to fuck off over the phone, Zac. You didn’t need to make me come all the way here and waste an entire evening!"

"You’re free to leave."

There it was again.

That calm, infuriating answer.

Roxie looked toward the door, then back at him.

He was watching her with the same expression he’d worn throughout their conversation, completely unbothered by how upset she was.

And something about that made her angrier than anything he’d said.

Perhaps this was exactly what he wanted.

He’d humiliated her, offered her something outrageous, and now he was waiting for her to storm out. He’d get to laugh about how desperately she’d wanted his help and how easily he’d made her lose her temper.

Well, fuck him.

She’d spent ten years building her career without Zac Prescott. She’d survived losing him, survived the humiliation at Crestline, and worked too hard on her show to let him decide how this evening ended.

And the bastard was arrogant enough to think he knew exactly what she’d do.

Roxie tightened her grip on her handbag.

She could leave. She knew that. She could walk out, find another guest, and spend the rest of her life avoiding him again.

But she was tired of being the one who walked away hurting.

If Zac wanted to turn their history into some ugly little game, she was perfectly capable of making decisions he wouldn’t like.

And he seemed awfully certain she’d reject him.

That thought finally settled her anger into something more deliberate.

She looked at the arrogant bastard sitting in front of her, waiting for her to leave.

All right, Prescott.

You want to humiliate me? You want to see how desperate I am?

She slowly put her handbag back on the chair.

Zac’s eyes followed the movement.

Roxie looked him straight in the eyes.

"All right," she said. "Let’s do it."