Ryan Lovejoy. That's got to be a pervert's name, right?

I spent the whole day googling that creep, intending to dig up some dirt on him. But I came up with nothing. Instead, the Hulk—that deranged green-eyed monster in my head—has gone berserk after seeing that creep's photos and reading about his wealth and achievements.

How am I supposed to compete against a guy who looks like Brad Pitt and has the same net worth as, well, Brad Pitt?

As the Hulk keeps banging his fists against my skull, I switch my gaze to the buffet table in front of me, hoping I can silence him with food.

TJ has hired Jennifer Baker, the latest winner of the competitive cooking reality TV show Heaven's Kitchen, for tonight's party; and he surely gets what he pays for.

Different kinds of luxurious, delectable appetizers and desserts—Strawberry Cheesecake in tiny glasses, mini Parfaits, and Veggie Pizzas among others—are arranged on the silver-plated cake stands. Every single one of the fancy food promises a quick trip to the seventh heaven, but my eyes are drawn to the simple yet irresistible Scotcheroos.

The faint peanut butter scent, the crunchy-looking Rice Krispies, and the silky smooth chocolate on top of the bite-sized dessert bars make my mouth water.

Chocolate isn't good for my stomach, and I shouldn't eat it. But I reach for one anyway.

The bitter, tantalizing chocolate and the milky taste of Nessa's favorite cereal remind me of her—and I can't get enough of it. One bar becomes two, two become three, and the next thing I know, I lose count of how many Scotcheroos I've eaten.

"Dude, have you lost your—whoa." TJ stops right next to me and snaps his head back. "Are you okay?"

"Of course," I answer, struggling to keep my voice even. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Oh, please. You are definitely not okay when you're eating that"—he points at the almost empty plate of Scotcheroos—"much chocolate."

Dammit. Did I eat all that?

The Cheshire Cat grins at me when I realize my pants are a bit tight around the waist. Crap, crap, crap. I'm turning into an XXL dumpling for real, aren't I?

As the ghastly purple monster scrapes his sharp claws down my back, TJ places a hand on my shoulder. "Come on, Ol. You can trust me. What's going on?"

"Nessa is seeing someone," I mutter.

TJ clamps his mouth shut, his shoulders trembling and his cheeks puffing out as he tries to hold back a laugh.

As he opens his mouth to say I told you so, I point a warning finger at him. "Don't."

"Okay, okay. Calm down." He holds his hands up in front of his chest, stifling a chuckle. "What kind of douchebag is she seeing this time?"

The green-eyed monster in my head curls his fists when I'm reminded of that creep, and I snarl, "Ryan Lovejoy."

"Whoa. Hold on a sec. Like, the Ryan Lovejoy?"

The alarm in TJ's voice sends my curiosity through the roof, and I whip my gaze to him. "What? You know him?"

"Ooh, you're in deep shit, man." TJ rubs the stubble on his chin, his full lips thinning into a grim line. "Deeeep shit."

"What? What do you know about him? Tell me."

"Well . . ." He leans forward as if he's about to tell me a big secret. "Nina has this friend, who has a friend, who has a cousin, who has a friend, who has a—"

"Get to the point."

"Right. In short, Ryan Lovejoy is one of the biggest womanizers in Los Angeles. Quite literally too, if you know what I mean." He pushes his lower lip forward and wiggles his eyebrows.

"I knew it." I clench my hand into a fist and shove the other through my hair, grimacing in disgust when traces of the sticky peanut butter and melting chocolate get stuck in my hair.

As I grab a paper napkin from the table to clean my hair, TJ adds, "At least, he used to be."

"What do you mean?"

"I haven't heard about him in ages. No idea what happened, but he just disappeared from the dating scene."

"Hmm . . ."

Nessa has always been a terrible judge of character. That's why it's no surprise that the guy she's seeing is just another jerk who wants to take advantage of her kind heart and naiveté. Now, what should I do? How do I get her to stop seeing that pervert again?

Ooh! Should I ask her to move to Timbuktu with me?

I frown at the crazy thought and push it far, far away.

As I rack my brain for a way to get Nessa as far away from Lovejoy as possible, TJ says, "I can find out more about him if you want."

The twinkle of mischief in his gaze has me narrowing my eyes at him in suspicion. "What's the price?"

"Keep me posted?" He offers his hand for a shake, and I accept it without thinking twice.

"Deal."

"Now, enough of that." His expression turns serious, his eyebrows sinking low. "Have you lost your mind? Why would you want to work with that wicked witch of the west again after what she did to you and Vanessa?"

I pull my head back and scrunch my forehead, completely and utterly confused. "Who?"

"Who else? Your crazy ex-girl—" TJ gasps and gapes in the direction of the house's entrance. "Damn. Is that Vanessa?"

Glancing over my shoulder, I swear I almost stop breathing when I see the beautiful woman walking down the small steps that connect the foyer and the living room.

Nessa has always been beautiful, but tonight, she just looks . . . ravishing.

The top half of her hair is clipped behind her head while the bottom half falls in loose curls on her shoulders. Like yesterday, her make-up is subtle but effective, and this time, her dress takes her to a whole other level of sexy.

The strapless golden dress flaunts her lovely collarbones, and its neckline enhances her cleavage. It comes to her midthigh at the front, but cascades down to her calves at the back, putting her smooth legs on display. The dress clings to her slim figure so perfectly, and as I stare at it, that trickle of jealousy I felt last night returns with a vengeance.

Yes, I'm jealous of a fucking dress. Again.

Dammit! What the hell is wrong with me?

"Oh, to hell with that wicked witch of the west, Ol. You better focus on hanging on to that woman"—TJ gestures at Nessa—"now or else someone will snatch her before you can even blink."

As TJ walks away giggling, Nessa waves at me and approaches me with a grin on her face.

"Hey, Ol." She stops six feet away from me and glances at the empty plate of Scotcheroos. "I see you've started the party without me."

The grin on her face grows wider, and I catch the faintest twinkle of satisfaction in her eyes. Is she enjoying this?

I brush the thought aside and mutter, "How was your date?"

"It was magical."

The Hulk smashes the inside of my skull. Oh, dammit.

"I'm telling you, Ol, I think Ryan might be my soulmate. I mean, he loves horror movies, he loves bacon, and most importantly, he's a cat person! How cool is that?"

As Nessa goes on and on about what she and that pervert Lovejoy did on their date and how they are planning to go on another date this weekend, the monster in my head demands that I do something. After a while, I blurt out, "Ness, there's something I have to tell you."

"Oh?" She tilts her head to the side. "What is it?"

"It's about Lovejoy. He's—"

"Oliver! Vanessa!"

I squeeze my eyes shut at the unmistakable sweet voice of our boss. Great. What now?

As Nessa glances behind me at Helen, the smile on her face falters, and her milky-white complexion turns pasty—it's as if she has seen a ghost.

Curious and worried, I spin around to face my boss. Shock freezes me when I see the blonde woman standing beside Helen in the living room.

No. Fucking. Way.

The intro of a sad piano ballad—that damn break-up song she wrote two years ago—echoes inside my head like the prelude of a horror movie's theme song, awakening the burning-red dragon in me.

Unable to believe my eyes, I blink a few times, hoping this is just a nightmare. But even after blinking about one hundred times, the woman who almost ruined my best friend's life two years ago still stares back at me, wearing the same false smile she wore the night I first met her.

Holy fuck. The she-devil is back.

Celia Adams sits upright on the velvet couch across the coffee table from me, her long legs angled to the left and her hands folded in her lap as usual. She constantly moves her gaze around the room and smiles at my star-struck colleagues, enjoying the attention she craves.

It's been a little over two years since I last saw her, but she hasn't changed a bit. She still looks best in red, which isn't a surprise considering red is the color of the devil.

What is she doing here?

As she steals a glance at me, I shoot her a sharp glare. She jolts in her seat and darts her gaze to the ceiling, her skinny fingers clutching the sides of her dress.

Suspicion seeps deeper into my mind. Hmm. What evil scheme is she plotting this time? Has she run out of other toys to play with—

Nessa plops beside me on the couch, having finished her private conversation with our boss. She greets the she-devil with a polite smile, her expression calm—too calm.

Concern twists my gut, but before I can do anything, Helen takes a seat next to Celia and switches her gaze between us. "So, have you two talked about the project?"

Project? What project?

"I see you haven't." Helen sighs, her thin eyebrows snapped up and her wide lips stretching in a rather awkward movement. "As you already know, Celia will be recording her newest EP with us. We'll be releasing the EP on Valentine's Day, so . . ."

The mention of that cursed holiday propels the powerful red dragon in my head to fly out of his cave and roar, drowning out Helen's voice. Within seconds, memories flow out of the black box inside my head. Memories of what happened on Valentine's Day two years ago. Memories of the incident that took the spark of confidence in my best friend's eyes.

Memories of that stupid Slushie incident.

As I watch Nessa out of the corner of my eye, Smaug opens his mouth and breathes out a blast of fire in my chest, slowly burning my insides.

The mask of calmness Nessa wears begins to crumble, the color draining from her face. She drops her gaze to her fidgeting hands and swallows, her fingers toying with the metal clasp of her purse. After a while, she shifts her attention back to our boss. Tiny forced smiles come across her face once in a while, but she bites her lip harder every time she glances at Celia.

Smaug wraps his long tail around my neck, suffocating me as I imagine what's running through Nessa's head—the recollection of the absurd articles about us, the awful insults she received because of them, or maybe even the memory of what happened on that stupid Valentine's Day.

Valentine's Day used to be one of her favorite holidays. But ever since that day, she has stopped celebrating it. And it's all my fault.

I ruined the day of love for her.

Smaug digs his sharp claws into my chest, slowly ripping my heart apart from the inside.

Right now, I want nothing more than to grab Nessa's hands, take her away from here, and make her forget about all the awful predicaments she's been through. But I know she wouldn't want me to do so.

Nessa is much stronger than anyone thinks, and she won't allow the she-devil to ruin what she's worked hard for that easily.

"Well, since the three of you are already familiar with one another, I'll just leave you to discuss it." Helen rises to her feet and stares down at me. Threat laces her sweet voice when she says, "I'm counting on you, Oliver."

Dammit. What was she talking about again? I give the red-haired woman an awkward grin.

As Helen walks away from us, I lean sideways toward Nessa and whisper, "Discuss what?"

"Celia's new EP, of course." Through gritted teeth, she mutters, "What else? Your love life?"

I must be hallucinating because I swear I can see a twinkle of jealousy in Nessa's eyes. As I begin to question my sanity, the presence of the she-devil in front of me reminds me of the real problem I must deal with.

"What do you mean her new EP? It's not like we're going to—" A loud gasp of horror erupts from my throat as realization smacks me in the head. "You're saying Helen is telling us to work together with her?" I tilt my head and point my thumb sideways at Celia. "You and me." I move a finger back and forth between Nessa and me. "We're going to produce her EP?"

"Yes, Ol." Nessa turns to face me, her lips twisted in annoyance. "Why are you acting so surprised? You already said yes."

"What? I would never—" My eyes go wide and my mouth forms a huge O when I remember what happened at the Christmas party, specifically who I was talking to. I dart my gaze to the she-devil in red, and she jumps in her seat. "Baldy and Chubby. Those two are your managers?"

She blinks at me, baffled.

"Well?" I snap my head forward and shoot my eyebrows up, demanding an answer.

Celia's mouth twitches. "I-if you're talking about Mr. Patrick and Mr. Henshaw, then yes. They're my new managers."

My head pounds with the intensity of an outraged dragon, and I fling my back against the couch. Oh my God. What have I done?

Author's Note:

So, Ollie accidentally said yes to working with Celia during that Christmas party. Did you see it coming? xD

Hope you enjoyed this chapter and if you do, please don't forget to show some support by commenting and/or voting. Thanks for reading! :)