01 Olivia
I'm in love.
No, not the "I'm totally obsessed with someone who might be nice to me at some point" kind of love. This is the real deal—the kind of love that makes you wonder if your heart will just give out from sheer intensity. He's the man of my dreams. Six foot four, dark wavy hair that probably feels like silk under your fingers, and blue eyes that pierce right through me like they're looking into my soul. And the tattoos—oh, the tattoos. Each one tells a story, though I don't know the first thing about them. Still, it doesn't matter because they're part of the perfect, mysterious package.
And not to mention a big—
"Can you even function without a book in your hands?"
I blinked, snapping back to reality, my brother's voice pulling me out of my literary fantasy. My beloved romance novel was suddenly ripped from my hands and out of my reach, leaving my fictional love affair dangling like an unfinished sentence. I gaped up at Dean, who was grinning like he'd just pulled off some major victory.
"Dean!" I groaned, half-rising from my seat, my arms outstretched like a toddler trying to grab a toy. He raised the book higher, keeping it firmly out of my grasp.
"Focus, Liv," he scolded, but his voice was lighter than usual. "You can't spend your entire life locked in that little BookTok bubble of yours." He tossed the book onto his desk with a decisive thud, the sound making me wince as if he'd thrown a stone at my heart.
"I'm focusing!" I protested, folding my arms defensively. "I'm just waiting for my new review to go live."
"Uh-huh. That's what you said last time, and look where it got you," he teased, still rifling through his pile of paperwork. His dark brows furrowed in frustration as he pushed through a never-ending stack of documents. "You know, I could use some help here, Liv. You think you could pull yourself away from your fairy tales long enough to lend a hand?"
I sighed, flopping back into my chair with exaggerated drama. "Maybe if you weren't such a workaholic, you wouldn't be drowning in all this."
Dean gave me a dry look. "At least I'm trying to do something useful with my life. You know, like getting ahead in the real world instead of hanging out with fictional people all day."
Ouch. He knew how to push my buttons, that's for sure.
"Okay, fine," I muttered, glancing back at my phone. "I have the BookTok live coming up in a few minutes, so I can't help you with your 'real world' problems right now." I smiled inwardly at the thought of my livestream. There was nothing I loved more than discussing books, especially with my followers, who were always eager to hear my thoughts on the latest romance pick.
But Dean wasn't going to let me get away that easily. "You know, you're coming to my charity event with me next week, right?"
My stomach flipped at the mention of it. The charity event. Dean had been organizing it for months, and as much as I wanted to avoid the glitzy, glamorous world of high society, I knew I couldn't say no. The event was important for his work, and he'd already mentioned it multiple times.
"I guess I'll have to, huh?" I said, trying to sound nonchalant, though I couldn't quite hide the groan that slipped out.
Dean didn't miss it. "Hey, I'm not asking you to marry anyone there. Just show up, be social, and maybe you can actually talk to someone who doesn't live in a book. It'll be good for you."
"I'm social enough," I shot back, narrowing my eyes. But the truth was, the idea of mingling with a room full of strangers—especially rich, polished strangers—made me break out in a cold sweat. I much preferred to stay in my little corner of the internet, surrounded by people who understood the language of page-turning romance and bookish memes.
"Sure, you're a social butterfly," Dean said sarcastically, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against his desk. "Just don't get lost in one of your fantasies while you're there. I need you to actually make an impression."
"I can make an impression," I muttered, but I was already lost in thoughts of how I could escape the event early without causing any drama. Maybe I'd slip out early and find a quiet corner.
Dean gave me a knowing look, as if reading my mind. "I'll be keeping an eye on you, Liv. Don't think I won't notice if you sneak off."
I rolled my eyes and muttered something under my breath about how this was my life and I'd manage just fine.
"Just remember," Dean called as I left his office, "you promised to help me with the prep, too."
I paused at the door, turning back with a groan. "I'm helping you by not getting in the way. You're welcome."
"Don't make me drag you to the event," he warned with a smirk. "I will."
"I'll be there," I grumbled, but in the back of my mind, I was already planning how to survive it. Maybe if I spent enough time divulging in complimentary snacks and refreshments, I could avoid everyone else. After all, it wasn't the glitz and glamour I was after—it was the perfect storyline for my next live. The real world could wait.
I was on an adrenaline high. The sizzling comments and witty banter flooding in from fellow readers had me smiling uncontrollably. I had just finished my live stream where I'd reviewed the latest book in a popular romance series, and I was thrilled by the overwhelming response. I loved how interactive the BookTok community was—nothing was more satisfying than getting my honest take out there and seeing so many people agree with my stance. The main male character had been, admittedly, a bit pretentious and far too high-maintenance for my taste, but there was no denying his broodiness and his over-the-top romantic gestures made up for it. That contradiction kept readers hooked, and I made sure to point that out.
I leaned back onto the sofa in my room, my legs tucked beneath a fluffy blanket. Grabbing my phone from the bedside table, I couldn't wait to check how many new followers I had gained after the live. There was something deeply satisfying about watching the follower count tick up, a tangible sign of all the hard work I'd put in.
The stream had pulled in almost eight thousand new followers, making my total count just over one and a half million. One and a half million. That number felt almost surreal. It had only been a couple of years since I posted my first video—a casual review of a cozy mystery novel—and now here I was, a full-time BookTok influencer with collaborations, sponsorships, and invitations from publishers lining up in my inbox.
I squealed happily and tossed my phone to the bed, letting out a small laugh at my own excitement. I loved this job—loved it more than I'd ever expected to. Getting paid to read books and talk about them with thousands of people was a dream come true. But it wasn't just the books I was passionate about; it was the community. The way we bonded over a shared love of storytelling, dissecting characters, debating plots, and celebrating every twist and turn of a well-written book. This was my space, my escape, and I was incredibly proud of the career I'd built from it.
I tapped the screen on my phone again to check the comments. "Love your take on the brooding hero! Couldn't agree more," one of them read. "Your reviews always get me so hyped for new books," another follower said.
I grinned at the screen, replying to a few comments and sharing a couple of new book releases I had my eye on. The interaction with my followers was the best part—connecting with readers who understood the joy of getting lost in a good book, and who respected my honest opinions, even when I wasn't gushing over every new release.
But as much as I loved the thrill of my BookTok career, there was always the pressure. I couldn't help but think about the brand collaborations coming up, the live streams I still had to plan, and the constant need to keep my content fresh. As much as I loved reading, sometimes it felt like I was living in a whirlwind of deadlines and digital expectations, constantly measuring myself against the success of others. What if I wasn't putting out enough? What if my reviews weren't edgy enough?
I shook my head, pushing those thoughts aside. I wasn't going to let them ruin the excitement of the moment. After all, I had built something truly special from scratch. Every video, every review, every reaction video and comment exchange was part of the reason my platform had grown so fast. It was my passion that fueled the numbers—and I couldn't lose sight of that.
Still, there was always that little part of me wondering if I was missing something. Would I ever be able to have something real—beyond the screen, beyond the carefully curated posts? I quickly shoved those doubts away. Now wasn't the time for that. Right now, I needed to focus on the things that mattered—the books, the reviews, and my growing community.
The rush of my new followers was still high, but I knew it was time to keep moving forward.
My phone rang on the bed, the loud buzz cutting through the stillness of my room. I glanced at the screen, seeing the name "Paxton CEO" flashing across the display. Dean. I sighed, annoyed at the fact he was still in his office after scheduled hours. I had just finished a successful live stream, and I was still riding the high of the comments and new followers. But of course, Dean always knew how to interrupt my book-induced bliss.
I let it go to voicemail, not in the mood for whatever work drama he was likely dealing with. But before I could even set the phone down, it rang again.
"Fine," I muttered under my breath, flipping the phone over and tapping the screen to answer. "What?"
There was a brief silence on the other end before Dean's voice came through, smooth and calm, though I could tell he was in one of his "business mode" moods.
Liv, I need you to stop whatever you're doing and listen to me."
I rubbed my forehead, already dreading what was coming next. Whenever Dean used that tone, it was usually a sign that something important was going down.
"I'm listening," I said, trying to sound nonchalant, but I knew my brother well enough to understand that whatever he wanted wasn't going to be a quick conversation.
"I just got word that there's an important client attending the charity event next week," he continued. "A big one. Someone who could be a game-changer for Paxton Enterprises. I need you there. I need you to—"
"Wait, hold on," I cut him off, sitting up straighter on the sofa. My heart started to pick up speed at the mention of the charity event. "You're asking me to mingle with a potential client at your fancy charity gala? I thought I was just showing up for moral support, not doing sales for Paxton."
Dean let out a small, almost amused chuckle. "This isn't just any client, Liv. If we impress them, they could bring a whole new level of business to the company. I know you don't like this world of corporate mixers, but trust me, your presence could make all the difference. Besides, you are a Paxton, so you should want this just as much."
I pinched the bridge of my nose, internally groaning. "I'm a BookTok influencer, Dean. I'm not exactly the type to charm business moguls in tuxedos."
"I'm not asking you to be something you're not," he said, his voice softer now. "Just show up. Be yourself. You know how to make an impression. You've been doing it with your followers for years now. This is no different."
I thought about that for a moment. He wasn't wrong. I had spent years building my platform, making connections, and cultivating a persona that resonated with thousands of people. But the thought of doing the same in a room full of rich and powerful strangers felt overwhelming. I knew books—not technology, and certainly not anything about Paxton Enterprises' foray into web search engines and artificial intelligence.
Dean had always been the genius in the family. As the CEO of Paxton Enterprises, he had built the company into a leader in tech innovation. What had started as a small software company years ago had evolved into a powerhouse of AI-driven solutions and cutting-edge web tools. While I struggled to figure out basic analytics for my BookTok account, Dean was revolutionizing the way people interacted with technology.
This latest potential partner he was so eager to impress was apparently from a startup specializing in next-gen AI solutions. Something about natural language processing and hyper-personalized algorithms—I'd tuned out the details the first time Dean mentioned it. From what I understood, this partnership could open new doors for his company, expanding their reach into industries he'd only dreamed of breaking into.
"Okay, okay," I relented with a sigh. "I'll go. But only because I owe you for helping me with my website last month."
"Good. And Liv? Thanks. I know you're not exactly thrilled about it, but I really appreciate you helping me out.
I could hear the sincerity in his voice, and for a moment, I softened. My brother might be a workaholic with a tendency to micromanage, but he was also the one person who had always had my back. Whether it was reminding me to take breaks during marathon reading sessions or helping me overhaul my website when it crashed under the weight of too much traffic, Dean was always there when I needed him.
"I'll make sure to bring a book as my plus one," I joked, trying to lighten the mood.
Dean laughed, but it was the kind of laugh that held a bit of frustration behind it. "Just... no books, Liv. Please. I need you there, in the moment. For me."
I rolled my eyes but couldn't help smiling. "Fine, no books. But don't expect me to stay for the entire thing. I'll make an appearance and then escape, like a ninja."
"That's all I'm asking," he said, relief flooding his tone. "Thanks, Liv."
As I hung up, I lay back on the couch, staring at the ceiling. The charity event. I had never felt less suited for one of those high-society affairs in my life, but I knew my brother had a point. Paxton Enterprises was his life's work, and this partnership sounded like a big deal. The least I could do was show up and support him.
Still, a part of me couldn't shake the feeling that I was completely out of my depth. The tech world was as foreign to me as the billionaire lifestyle that dominated Dean's social circles. My career revolved around cozy reading nooks, fictional worlds, and witty online banter—not sleek boardrooms, champagne toasts, and billion-dollar deals.
And yet, maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe I'd get through the night unscathed. Maybe, just maybe, something unexpected would come of it.
