Page 65 of The Unfluencer

I push to my feet, preparing to meet Whitney at the plane door, when her voice carries up to the cabin.

“…this is about putting the Artery on the map,” she says.

I stop in my tracks.

“Of course, and while I hear what you’re saying, I’ve got to think about the bigger picture here.” She’s on the phone, stopped outside the car. “We need more buzz, which leads to more donations, international attention…”

My breathing quickens.

More donations. Buzz. Attention.

The advisable thing to do here would be to tune her out, accept that I don’t know the first thing about what she’s discussing or whom she’s discussing it with based off a handful of sentences in a one-sided conversation.

Except, at the Artery, when I saw Whitney talking to Zeek, I was so sure I knew exactly whom I was dealing with. The Luxe Lady type, never takes no for answer, always calculating. It felt like further reason I should stay away from her. And even during our Restroom Rendezvous, I sensed she was working an agenda.

Which is why I didn’t overthink it when Cord suggested the wager.

But now I’m listening, hanging on every word, getting straight to the subtext. Because that starry-eyed smile curving her lips when she says things like “leverage is visibility” and “this could put us in front of the right people” comes with an unyielding draw to the limelight. It’s all about chasing public recognition and social climbing, and it gives me more than pause. It brings me to a screeching halt.

I’ve encountered countless versions of that woman. I married one.

Maybe I’m really the fool in her grand plan. Donations, spotlight, followers, viewers. It’s all the same.

There’s never enough.

And while it wasn’t my place to ask her about Zeek at dinner, wouldn’t this be the perfect storyline for a cast candidate? Is that the bigger picture? Putting the Artery on the map, and indirectly her. She’s seen the headlines, and wouldn’t this trip with a cold, standoffish Luxe Husband of Ellswood who solves problems with his checkbook blow the rest of the scandalous gossip out the water? Get her the donations and attention?

Maybe the vlogger got her right. Maybe the woman who sat across from me last Thursday was the lie.

I stiffen, listening.

“…I’m here. I’ll be in the air for a couple hours, but I’ll still be reachable for updates…” Whitney says, trying to end her call. “Mm hmm, yes… yes… Thank you. Okay, talk soon,” she says, smiling at the flight attendant as she slips her phone into her purse.

The plane vibrates as she leads the climb up the stairs, and in a snap judgment, I swipe the coffee table book off the seat and shove it into my leather duffel.

“Hi, sorry about that. Never fails, the second I have something to do, everyone wants to call.” She lets out an exhausted laugh. “I’m Whitney, by the way.”

“Mya,” the flight attendant says.

As they board, and Whitney moves on autopilot, greeting me with a lingering cheek kiss, I’m nearly thrown off my entire game. She’s still beaming and beautiful, running on adrenaline, as she stows her suitcase and plops into the seat across from me with a relieved huff of a laugh.

But even though I’m smiling, I already feel myself hardening, looking at her with different eyes.

No games, just refocusing on the goal.

I met with Whitney last Thursday. Same time I was set to meet at the Heartery. I invited her to Clover Cay, where she’ll have two days to assess Sherry’s collection. But being the fuckboy that the media thinks I am? Sex, no feelings? Cord and I never said it had to be with Whitney.

Straightening, I direct my smile to the bright-eyed, leggy flight attendant gazing admiringly at me.

“Mya, is it?”

Chapter Fifteen

Whitney

Jet Set

“Have you spent any real time in the Caribbean?” Warner asks Mya. Not his invited guest.