Chapter 1
Amanda McQueen opened her eyes and immediately closed them again.
The night before must have been a dream. There was no way her friend and rising A-list actress Helene Sawyer had scored her an invite to theVanity FairOscar party. There’s no way she’d let her tag along to Kata and Rina’s A-list after-party. There was absolutely no freaking way she’d run into Samuel Pleasant at both events, and surely you’d be joking if you told her that sometime in the night she and Sam had completely hit it off. And that somehow he’d asked her back to his hotel room. She’d call you a bold-faced liar—to your face—if you even hinted at the idea that Amanda and Sam had slept together and that the sex had been top tier, mind-blowing even.
No. There was no way any of that had happened.
But then how did Amanda explain to herself how she’d woken up, still very naked and aroused, tangled in high-thread-count hotel sheets with now Oscar-winning actor Sam Pleasant? If she wasn’t afraid of making any sudden movements she’d pinch herself. His arm was still draped over her, his fingers resting on her breast. Slowly she turned her head and looked over at him, the dim light coming from the small part in the blackout curtains making it just bright enough to see. Sam was still very much asleep, snoring softly, his dark brown cheek pressed against the white pillow.
His skin was amazing, Amanda thought as she took in the dark lashes brushing those cheeks. She could spend all day looking at him and another night as well. Too bad she had to be at work in exactly ninety minutes. She didn’t need to look at her phone to see what time it was. Amanda woke up every single morning twenty minutes before her alarm. Call it peak readiness. She took pride in her work and the lessons both her parents had taught her. On time was late. And now, she was definitely going to be late.
Okay. First thing, extract yourself from the bed without waking Sam up. Then flee from his hotel room before you have a chance to exchange another word.They’d agreed, no names. As if she didn’t know who he was, but when he’d asked her name in the middle of her enthusiastic rendition of the cha-cha slide, she’d played it cool.
“Sorry, I can’t hear you. I’m dancing,” she’d said. He’d laughed. They’d danced some more and more, until it was time to go their separate ways. Or so she’d thought. It wasn’t until she’d gotten off the elevator and found him waiting right where he said he’d be, right outside of room 1020, that she’d realized this thing between them was actually happening. No, it wasn’t until he’d asked if it was okay if he kissed her, that he’d been wanting to all night, ever since she’d made that crack about doing the breaststroke through a chocolate fountain. (Listen, it was her first night out in almost six months and some very nice woman named Lisa had done a great job on her makeup. She was feeling a little peppy and loose.)
That kiss though, the soft slowness of it that had somehow managed to work its way through the pulsing excitement of the night and of Sam’s Oscar win, she’d felt something in that kiss. It had been the only reason she’d shimmied out of the sparkling gold and silver romper that she’d scored from the Forever 21 plus-size section. The only reason she’d been glad she was still carrying the emergency condoms she always did on her boss’s behalf. That kiss had only been proof that Sam Pleasant knew exactly how to treat a woman. He wasn’t too bad at the sex part either.
But none of that mattered now, because she had to be standing at the foot of her boss’s bed in exactly eighty-seven minutes.
Amanda glanced toward the floor and calculated just how loud of a thud she’d make if she rolled off the bed. Her mental math told her that would be the quickest way to wake Sam up. Slow and easy would be the way to go.
Carefully, oh so carefully, she eased to the side, pointing her foot toward the ground. When her toes made contact with the carpet, she gently lifted Sam’s hand and eased out from under his arm. She set his fingers in the warm spot she’d left behind, then quietly sat up and stood before pulling the covers back over his shoulders. She froze when he sniffed a bit, then rubbed his nose. Her heart started beating again when he rolled over and settled deeper into the sheets.
She quickly but quietly began to search the room for her things. Her jeans and shirt were back at Helene’s house up in the Hills. She’d have to worry about that later. She grabbed her sequin jumpsuit and her silver strappy sandals, then slipped into the bathroom, dressing in record time. Her bladder was screaming, but there was no way she could risk flushing the toilet. And she sure as hell wasn’t going to be the nasty ass who peed in Sam Pleasant’s hotel room and didn’t flush. She telegraphed the message to her bladder,just wait five more minutes, then she checked her face in the mirror. Thank God her makeup was barely smudged.
Normally she was good at being invisible. Every Hollywood assistant had mastered the skill—ever present, but never seen, never heard, and definitely never photographed. She hoped being Black, a size twenty, and not at all famous would reduce the chances of anyone noticing her walk of shame. Or should she say, strut of triumph? She’d definitely had sex with Sam Pleasant and that was worth celebrating. In any event, smudged makeup would attract someone’s attention. For now she was just your average Oscar night partygoer on their way home. With eighty-five minutes to spare before she had to be at work.
She crept back into the room and grabbed her clutch off the hotel desk, then grabbed the swag bag she’d received from the only post-award-show gifting suite Helene had managed to sneak her into. No way Amanda was leaving that behind. She’d investigate the full extent of her spoils once she got home. She did one final visual sweep of the room, then fled into the morning.
In the elevator she called for a Lyft. Jerod was five minutes away.
In the lobby things were still quiet. No one but people like Amanda woke up this early, the first-shifters who got other people’s days started for them. Amanda would be lying if she said she didn’t find a little thrill in it. Yeah, the work was thankless, but often she was the first to witness so many things. Things she couldn’t talk about, but still, she was always in the know.
She used the restroom, then stepped out into the predawn morning just as Jerod pulled up to the curb in front of the W Hotel.
“Fun night?” he asked as she buckled her seat belt.
“It was a great night. Thank you.”
“Well, let’s get you home.”
Fifteen minutes later, they pulled up to her place in Beverly Hills. Technically it was Beverly Hills, but not the rich, fancy, big mansion part most people thought of when they pictured the famous zip code, and the adorable cottage facing the street definitely wasn’t hers. She lived in the back. She tipped Jerod in the app, then hurried inside. She had just enough time to shower and shovel down a quick breakfast before she got on with her day.
She threw a frozen breakfast burrito in the microwave, fixed her triangle braids up in a high topknot, then hopped under the hot spray, where she scrubbed the night off her face. Quick lotion up and wardrobe change and she was almost ready to go.
She flopped down on her bed to pull on her Converse and accidentally knocked her after-party gift bag to the floor. It landed with a sickening thud that she was sure had dented the old hardwood floors. She picked up the bag and glanced inside, just to make sure her brand-new bits of expensive swag were okay.
And that’s when she realized her mistake.
She’d grabbed the wrong bag.
There was an iPhone in its crisp white box. Beside it was another box and besidethatwas a pristine Oscar statue.
“No, no, no, no, noooo.” Amanda carefully pulled the beautiful golden knight out of the bag and examined the envelope that had been lying beneath it.
Best Performance by an Actor
in a Supporting Role,