Cat leaned back against the booth. “He’s perfect, and you’re a diabolical genius for suggesting I steal him from that bitchsicle.” Meeghan Traxx was an asshole of epic proportions. The woman was a fellow Reno and Realty star but had the personality of a cactus and the soul of a dementor. The woman had trolled Cat’s brother and his wife every chance she got. And Cat took great pleasure in stealing the woman’s abused assistant from her.

“You were a year late on the assistant front,” Marta pointed out. “You keep trying to do it all yourself, and you’ll end up combusting.”

“I should have listened to you a long time ago,” Cat admitted. She was a control freak. But she liked it that way. No one was going to be as invested in her career, in her brand, in her plans as she was—no matter how much she paid them. Though, now that she had Henry handling more mundane matters, she’d really begun to make progress on her pet project.

The server returned with Cat’s drink, and they placed their orders. Cat sighed internally when she ordered the kale salad.

“So, what do you have for me?” Cat asked. Marta and Cat both shared an appreciation for business first, another reason they got on so well.

“Yet another magazine cover offer,” Marta said, booting up her tablet and taking out her stylish reading glasses.

“Topless?”

“Of course.”

“Pass,” Cat said, sipping her water.

“They promised it would be—and I quote—‘most tasteful’,” Marta added.

“These girls are worth more than a magazine cover,” Cat said, pointing at her chest with both index fingers.

“It would be great exposure—no pun intended—leading up to your second season.”

Cat shook her head. “Not happening. I’m not hitting any long-term goals by flashing my tits to twenty-somethings.”

Marta moved on without breaking her stride. “The network wants to offer you a Christmas special.”

“Isn’t it a little late in the game for a Christmas special?” Cat glanced out the window at the worsening October weather. “The other networks probably filmed theirs months ago.”

“They found more money in the budget and want to add a special starring you and Drake Mackenrowe.”

“Drake? Interesting.”

They paused their conversation long enough to thank the waitress for their figure-friendly salads.

“Things ended well with you two, didn’t they?” Marta asked, stabbing her fork into a piece of broiled chicken.

Cat and Drake had shared a very pleasant month-long relationship two years ago. Technically, “relationship” made it sound more serious than it had been. They were never in the same place long enough for more than a series of one-night stands and had parted as friends. They’d managed to stir the pot by showing up to a red-carpet function together, but—try as the suits had—the relationship hadn’t stuck.