Pick Me by Kristine Mason Page A

the tape in his face.
    “Just me and the security guard who’d been working that night.”
    Her pounding heart began to slow to an almost normal rate.
    “But I made a copy.”
    Cold and clammy fear gripped her from the inside. If Jonas leaked this footage of her and Colt, she could be ruined. Professionally and personally.
    While she’d formally resigned as Production Assistant in order to be Pick Me’s bachelorette, and was no longer an employee of the production company, her actions, as well as Derek’s and even Jonas’, had bordered on unorthodox. At the time, she’d figured even if Pick Me was cancelled, so long as she met her contractual obligations and finished the show, she’d still have a job as Derek’s Assistant Producer. If Derek lost his golden touch, and his other shows started to tank, she would have to find another job. Jonas was right, what production company would hire her if they saw this tape?
    Then there was her family. Her father, an old school Italian, looked at her “TV stuff” as a passing fancy, that she’d eventually do the right thing. Settle down, find a husband, and push out a bunch of babies. Her brothers had always been supportive, a little over protective, but sympathetic during the many arguments she’d had with her parents over her career choice. But if they saw this, they’d probably send out an APB on her ass, then drag her back to Chicago. Her mom? Oh boy, she’d probably call in a priest for an exorcism. While she loved her mother, she hadn’t quite entered the twenty first century, and pretended the women’s movement had never happened.
    Squaring her shoulders and ignoring her wobbly legs, she narrowed her eyes at Jonas. “And what do you plan to do with this so-called other tape?”
    “Use it, unless...” He shoved off the panel and approached her. “Unless you wear the cameras I’ve given you.”
    “I’ll wear them. Just give me the other tape.”
    He held up his hands. “Not so fast. I need it as leverage.”
    She narrowed her eyes. “I told you I’d wear your stupid spy cams.”
    “Yeah, but I want to make sure you get more of that stuff on them,” he said and pointed the blank screen.
    “ That meaning what happened in the parking lot?” Was the man insane? There was no way in hell she’d allow herself to be filmed fooling around with Colt. What she shared with him was private, personal...special. “No way.”
    “Well, if you don’t,” he said with a shrug, “I’ll use the tape on the show.”
    Her anger toward Jonas intensified. While she wasn’t sure if Colt was truly a sports agent, it didn’t matter. Jonas’ blackmailing tactics—and she figured that’s where he was heading between the tape and the spy cams—would affect Colt as well. He had a big family, lived in a small community, and if he was in fact a sports agent, his career might take some heat for this as well.
    “Fine, I’ll do it.” Not really, but she’d damn well be sure to tell Derek about his idiot director.
    “And if you tell Derek or anyone else about this conversation, I’ll splash the copied tape all over the internet.”
    Shit. “I knew you were an asshole, but I had no idea how much until now,” she said, slipping the tape into her purse.
    “Well, I’m about to become a bigger asshole. You obviously like the way that redneck gets your rocks off, but I also want to see some interaction between you and the other bachelors. Hot interaction,” he finished with a wink.
    That did it. She swung her purse and knocked Jonas upside the head. “Kiss my ass. I’m not going to play your frickin’ whore. Do you understand me?”
    Jonas ran his hand over his bald head, then with a snarl, gripped her shoulders. “Like I said, you either wear the cameras and give me something I can use, or I’ll splash you and Colt all over the internet. Are we clear?”
    “Fuck off,” she said, shrugging his hands off her, then moved passed him.
    “Fucking is what I want to see.