Page 22 of PR Stunt

Junebug

It’s like you read my mind. Usual spot?

Me

See you in thirty.

Chapter 10

The ocean air is crisp and salty as I step out of my car, the familiar glow of Nobu Malibu’s sleek, low-lit entrance ahead. Lanterns cast a warm glow along the wooden walkway as waves crash beyond the terrace. Inside, it’s minimalist but cozy. Warm wood, sleek stone, and floor-to-ceiling windows framing the Pacific like living art. I scan the dining room until I spot Juno, already seated at a prime table near the glass, her dark hair haloed in the low candlelight.

She sees me and immediately lights up, pushing back her chair as she gets to her feet. “There’s my Char Char.”

She pulls me into a hug, squeezing tight before leaning back, hands still on my shoulders as she gives me a once-over. “I had a feeling it was an extra-extra-dirty, absolutely filthy martini kind of night.”

We sink into our seats as she slides a frosted glass toward me, condensation slipping down the sides. I grin, wrapping my fingers around the chilled stem. “Amen, sis. When is it not?”

I take a sip. A dirty martini should be murky, briny, and chilled so perfectly that tiny ice slushies form on the surface. We’ve come here so often that the bartender knows our order by heart.

Juno leans in, resting her chin in her hand. “Okay, spill. How are you? Last time I saw you, you’d just power-sprinted through a downpour. I swear you were one drip away from a menty b.”

A mental breakdown. Dramatic? Maybe. Accurate? Also maybe.

I purse my lips. “You know, that could still very much happen.”

She snorts. “Figured.”

The server approaches, and we place our order quickly—just a few go-tos and a request for extra ginger on the side. The server nods, tucking the menus under their arm.

Juno takes a sip of her martini and then leans back in her chair. “Okay, fill me in.”

Exhaling, I swirl my drink. “Well, the contract is signed.”

Juno whistles. “You and Grayson Cole, Hollywood’s new ‘it’ couple.”

I groan, tilting my head back. “Don’t remind me.”

I give her the quick version. The tense meeting at his agency, Miranda and Anna laying out the whole plan, the gala, staged vacations, the paps already running with it before I could even process it myself.

“Oh, and let’s not forget the two whole months of pretending I don’t want to throttle him every time he opens his mouth,” I add.

Our food arrives, and the plates are placed between us.

Juno grins, reaching for a piece of crispy rice. “Honestly, that sounds kind of hot.”

“Sure, if it was anyone other than Grayson,” I respond, picking up my chopsticks.

I grab a slice of sashimi, dragging it through the yuzu ponzu before continuing.

“He’s… Ugh. I don’t even have the words. Infuriating? Yes. But in this way that’s so calculated. Like he always knows exactly what to say to get under my skin.” I shake my head. “And that ego? It’s genuinely impressive. I swear, he operates under the belief that the sun actually rises just to shine on him.”

Juno laughs, chewing thoughtfully. “Maybe it does.”

I shoot her a look. “Not helping.”

I set my chopsticks down with a sigh, tracing a finger along the condensation on my martini glass. “The worst part is that I haven’t even told my parents yet.”

Juno’s chewing slows. “Wait, you didn’t tell them?”