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“This is why I’m the fun one,” I joke, brushing off my own work stress so it doesn’t bog down our vacation. “I’m taking the whole month off.”

Zander raises a brow. “Surely even a famous actor can’t take a whole month off without a few tasks to manage.”

If he only knew how much I’m struggling right now. If I screw up or fall out of favor with the studio, they’ll end me.

Unlike Zander and Pascal, I don’t have a company to fall back on. No investors, no family. I have fans. And fans are fickle. Half of them want the fame, not me.

Except for my two best friends, everyone sees the guy from my breakout romantic role. Nobody knows who I really am. The day I’m less charming, less flirtatious, less exciting than they expect, I’m done. So I give them the persona. Every time.

“Watch me,” I say just as Nina walks in. “I’ve got better plans this month.”

“Like what?” Nina asks, joining in easily as she opens her laptop to show us her notes for the annual Beaumont Charity Gala, which Pascal will host at a nearby resort.

“Like you.” I wink.

The other guys roll their eyes and brush it off. They’re used to my jokes. But Nina reacts differently. I catch her pressing her thighs together, ever so slightly.

Interesting. Maybe I’m not the only one feeling the attraction.

“What’s on the agenda for tomorrow?” she asks, ignoring her flushing cheeks.

Zander hands her a short list of errands and household tasks.

“Nothing on my end,” Pascal says. “I’ll look over the gala plans and get back to you.”

Nina nods and turns to me.

I shrug. “Nothing at the moment, but catch me later. I might have an impromptu need for a spiked hot chocolate with lots of whipped cream.”

Nina blushes again and pushes the laptop across the table to Pascal. While he looks over her notes, she heads off to another room.

“She’s efficient,” I tell Pascal. “I’ll give her that.”

“She’s good at her job.” Pascal’s eyes stay on the screen. “This year’s gala might be the best one yet.”

“Good.” Zander smiles, visibly pleased that he’s the one who hired our competent, enticing concierge.

A few minutes later, Nina walks back in holding a steaming mug of hot chocolate. The pressure from the studio and the old thoughts of not being enough dissipate like the steam above the cup.

“For me?” I ask, surprised she took my request seriously.

Nina nods and hands it over. “Sorry, I couldn’t find the whipped cream.”

Zander and Pascal head to the study to go over the gala plans. Then it’s just the two of us.

So much for our agreement.

“Nina,” I say, watching her face. “I thought of something else I need.”

“What is it?”

“Walk with me.” I turn toward my bedroom.

As we head up the stairs, I turn on my trademark charm.

“This is way outside your job description,” I say, opening my door and motioning her inside. “So I’ll just say it. No pressure. I want you.”

She doesn’t run out of the room or slap me, which is a good sign. Instead, her cheeks flush crimson, and her thighs press tighter together again.