The Winner

*Julia*

What the hell am I doing? Los Angeles? This is really happening?

I should be excited. This is a once‑in‑a‑lifetime opportunity, but excitement never stands a chance against anxiety. Anxiety always wins.

I'm completely out of my element. Not just flying across the country, but doing it alone, leaving my whole life behind like this? This isn't me.

The seatbelt sign dings. Ready or not...this is happening.

I take a breath and fumble to unlatch my seatbelt nervously. My hands are literally shaking as I grab my backpack and make my way down the aisle. I keep my head down and follow the crowd, but the second I step onto the airport carpet, my world erupts in white light. Flashes. Shouts. Cameras snapping like firecrackers. I freeze at the gate, stunned.

My eyes dart from one reporter to the next as they close in on me. But before I can freak out, a steady hand on the small of my back guides me through crowd.

"Right this way, Miss Moretti," the bodyguard says, whisking me away from the chaos.

A middle-aged bald man in a suit carrying a clipboard joins us in the race to get away from the media. "A car is waiting for you." He states.

"Don't I need to go to baggage claim first?" I've never traveled by myself, but I'm pretty sure we are missing a step here.

"It's already taken care of." The bald man chuckles like this is something I should know already. "Once you get to the studio, there will be contracts to sign, and then you are free until your first interview tomorrow morning."

My first interview.

My stomach ties in a tight knot as I let that sink in. We hurry through the airport, and before I know it, we're outside. In L.A.

I'm IN California.

Un-fucking-believable.

One thing's for sure, it's much warmer than Boston.

"Ah, here we go," the man says as a black SUV with tinted windows pulls up to the curb. "Have a good evening, Miss."

With the amount of crime TV I've watched over the years, I should be questioning everything about this. But I don't. I signed up for this.

Still in a bit of shock, I slide into the backseat of the SUV.

"There she is. How was your flight?"

My head whips around, my eyes wide, recognizing the well-known British accent. He's here? Sitting next to me? Holy shit!

And what is the first thing he does? Flashes his million-dollar smile and friggen winks at me. Winks...

Of course he winks.

He's known to be a flirt. His accent is strong, and in person, he looks just as good, if not better, than on TV. Light brown hair, ocean blue eyes and stubble around his face and jaw to try to make himself look a little older. Yet he's 10 years younger than myself.

I know his voice. I listen to his music. I follow him on social media. I am currently sitting next to one of the most famous artists in the music industry.

I need to respond. My flight. He asked how my flight was.

"It was good. The flight was long," I pause. "Believe it or not, this is my first time traveling by myself."

Oh God, I sound so stupid! First time traveling by myself? I really just told him that? I'm sitting next to a man who has traveled all over the world numerous times, and I'm a 40-year-old woman who has never been on a flight alone before. Could I sound any more pathetic?

"Really? Wow. Long day for your first flight solo. Well. I'm glad you made it unscathed, Miss Moretti."

"Yeah, me too." I sigh, still a little shell-shocked.

Here I am, in the back seat of some luxury SUV probably twice my mortgage. Me- and the one and only-

Nate Hollan.

My nerves have shifted into overdrive. I didn't realize this multimillion-dollar celebrity from London would actually be here. Nor did I expect him to pick me up from the airport tonight. I thought maybe I'd see him during our interviews and sessions, but that's it.

He proved me wrong right from the start.

*Nate*

It's going to be a long fucking drive if this lady doesn't start talking more. The awkward silence and watching her fidget is driving me nuts. I need to break the ice or this is going to be an excruciating experience for us both.

"So, tonight will be all signing contracts and papers, but tomorrow is the first interview. Are you excited?" I try to be positive. She's obviously not used to any of this. I'm going to have to walk her through it all.

"Um, yeah. Well. No. Nervous, actually." She turns to make eye contact.

"We can go over everything during hair and make-up."

"Hair and make-up?"

She sounds surprised. Christ, I'm REALLY going to have to walk her through everything.

"Did you download the app yet, love?"

She shakes her head. She really hasn't a clue, does she? I grab my phone and move a little closer to show her. I can smell her vanilla-scented perfume and feel her tense up and shift a little in her seat. This is gonna be fun for me, I can tell already.

"Management will go over everything tonight, but download this app. My assistant Trisha, as well as the producer, are on this calendar." I swipe to pull up a calendar, already overbooked on my end. "See? There's your name, Julia- in green. You'll find the agenda for each day here."

"Oh, that's easy enough. Thanks." She says, and her body relaxes a little more.

I sit back and take in the sight of her while she downloads the app and is focused on her phone. She doesn't look 40. Maybe 30. Very attractive. Long brown hair that flows down her back. Dark brown eyes. Her features are small but natural. Not like all the plastic women here.

Ok fuck it- Julia's hot, and I already feel something stirring in me for her.

"Your schedule is crazy!" She exclaims, noticing all the things in my box in comparison to hers. "Sorry, I don't know why that is a surprise to me." Julia glances up, smiles at me, and looks back down.

Good Lord, she has a killer smile, too. This is going to be better than I thought.

"Yeah, Trish likes to keep me busy. But aside from a few dinner meetings, I try to keep my schedule open in the evenings. That's where you come into play. But the first few weeks, we will be seeing a hell of a lot of each other during the days, too." I give Julia a wink and a smile, starting to feel myself want to flirt a little. Her cheeks flush.

This is going to be fun.

*Julia*

I follow Nate Hollan and two other men who have yet to introduce themselves down the hall to a small room. The building is bright and contemporary-looking. Light grey walls, white furniture, and a wall full of doors to different rooms. I imagine the doors lead to small private studio rooms of some sort. You just know whoever walks through the entrance has a ton of money.

The small room they lead me into is much warmer. Lived in. A black leather couch, two matching oversized chairs, a coffee table, and a few metal folding chairs scattered around the room. It looks like what I'd imagine an artist's studio would look like.

One wall holds a counter lined with what look like high-end espresso machines and coffee makers. Every variety of tea and coffee imaginable sits in perfectly arranged baskets. Across the room, guitars, instruments, and gear dominate the opposite wall. Despite all the equipment, the place feels more like a cozy little coffee shop.

This is where I'll be spending the majority of my time. Where I will learn to play guitar. This is my prize for being the winner.

"Ok, doll, here comes the fun part." Nate smiles and sits down on one of the chairs.

I sit across from him and the other two men as well as a few bodyguards, sit on the folding chairs without a word. They are not here for small talk and want to get out of here as soon as possible.

"Just waiting for Trisha, and then we can get the ball rolling." Nate looks at the clock hanging on the wall. She must be late, but it doesn't seem to faze him. He casually pulls out his phone and starts scrolling.

I sit here, trying not to watch him- or notice the way his brown hair is perfectly styled away from his forehead, or how his eyes are an even brighter blue than they appear on TV. He's dressed in khaki pants and a pink polo shirt, the collar left unbuttoned showing a thin chain resting against his neck. I catch myself staring and quickly shift my gaze to the music posters on the wall instead.

I'm literally sweating under my top and fidgeting with my hands now. I'm not used to any of this legal stuff. Luke always handled this kind of thing, not me. He was good at it. But Luke's not here now, is he?

Five minutes later, a woman walks in. She's stunning. Very tall, shoulder-length blonde hair, flawless features- maybe 30, if that. Then again, this is L.A.; for all I know, she could be fifty with a great plastic surgeon. She's in a sleek black fitted dress that falls to her knees, with a daring slit up the side of her right leg. Her towering black heels complete the look. I now feel underdressed, out of place, and self-conscious.

"Sorry I'm late," she says as Nate gets up and gives her a peck on the cheek. "The awards meeting ran late. You know how it is."

"You're good, Trish. We just got here a few minutes ago," Nate sits back down.

"Miss Moretti, Trisha. Nice to meet you." She sticks out her perfectly manicured hand for me to shake.

"Julia." I shake her hand and smile.

"So, Julia, Playboy over here hasn't started flirting with you yet, has he?" She scoffs and raises a brow at Nate.

Playboy?

"No, not at all!" I quickly reply. I glance at Nate to see if this was appropriate, but just rolls his eyes at his assistant, so I imagine they are really close.

"Oh, sweetie, give him another ten minutes and he'll be all over you in no time."

"Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny, Trish. Don't forget who signs your checks." Nate arches an eyebrow like he is the poster child of an emoji.

"Oh, please, you'd be fucking lost without me and you know it." Trisha retorts and then turns to me. "Nate doesn't even know what dry cleaner his clothes get sent to. He'd be wandering around L.A. buck naked if it weren't for me." Trisha turns back to Nate. "Which, to be honest, I'd pay to see."

"I'm sure you would, darlin'." Nate flirts, laughs loudly, and it fills the room. It's the type of laugh that's contagious, and even the two men in back laugh a little.

"I'm keeping my eye on you, Hollan. Behave," Trisha replies.

The back-and-forth banter is entertaining and I change my initial impression of Trisha. I also find it comical that she sounds like the one in charge when she is only his personal assistant.

"I don't think flirting will be a problem. There's a pretty big age gap here," I chime in, now glad to have Trisha in the room.

"I prefer older women, actually." Nate blurts out, not missing a beat, and raises an eyebrow at me.

I know my cheeks are flushed, and there's no hiding that he got to me a little. "So I've heard."

"You've done ya homework, haven't ya, Princess?" He winks at me, and I shift in my seat a little. Trisha DID warn me. And it DID only take a few minutes for the flirting to begin.

This kid- he's got guts. I already knew his background: the way he charms women, effortlessly pulling anyone in with just a smile and those eyes. He's been in the media spotlight since he was sixteen, dating countless famous women over the years- mostly supermodels. Nate Hollan is America's heartthrob, and he knows it.

"Okay, ladies, let's get down to business. We'll be spending the whole day together tomorrow." He keeps the meeting moving, and soon we're signing forms, finalizing contracts, and going over details. By the time I leave the studio, I'm drained but also buzzing with excitement.

Tomorrow is the start of a whole new life.