All That Really Matters - Nicole Deese Page 0,3

the media moguls at Netflix. They’re looking to recruit fresh talent for a new feel-good series slated for next year. And their response to him was, ‘Molly McKenzie is already on our radar.’”

“What?” I leapt off the sofa, unsure of what to do with my body other than gawk and flail my arms like a flightless bird. “No. No way. You’re lying to me. This can’t be real. Tell me you’re lying.” A scratchy, unrecognizable whisper escaped my throat. “Are you lying?”

He laughed. “Not even I could tell a lie that good.”

I flung myself at him, and he caught my waist and spun me around. “Oh my goodness! I know you said it would happen someday, that you’d take my brand places I couldn’t even begin to imagine, but I . . . I just can’t believe it’s actually happening!”

Ethan lowered me to the ground and cupped my face in his hands. “As long as you stay focused on the goals ahead, I will work to make your wildest dreams come true.” He smiled as if to let his words soak in. “But before I can submit your official audition to the producers this summer, we need to eliminate every potential weak spot in your résumé to edge out your competitors.”

“Sure, of course.” Whatever cloud-like euphoria had inflated my entire being only moments ago had sprung a leak. Ethan reached for his briefcase, and just like that, Manager Ethan had shown Boyfriend Ethan to the door.

“I wrote some key targets down for you on my last flight. I know how much you like to visualize your goals.”

“Right. Thanks.” My gaze dropped to his briefcase as he popped open the lock. “Whatever I need to do, I’ll do it.”

A slight curve lifted the corner of Ethan’s mouth. “That’s exactly what I told Mr. Greggorio you’d say.”

He scooted the appetizer board and wine glasses to a separate side table.

“So you’re wanting to go over all this right now, then?” I asked, glancing back at our cooling dinner.

“Waiting time is wasted time.” An Ethan quotable if ever there was one. Ethan was not someone who believed patience was a virtue.

“Right.” I took the bullet point list from his hand, and my gaze immediately snagged on the first objective listed.

1 million subscribers

“A million subscribers? By the end of August?”

“Gaining the edge is never easy.”

I raised my questioning gaze to his confident one. “But that’s . . .” On principle, I didn’t say the word impossible, but gosh, if there ever was a time for that word, it was right now. “That’s almost four hundred thousand subscribers in just three months.”

“Yes, it is. And I have a strategy for how to get us there.”

“Does it include praying for a miracle?” My joke fell flat with a quick shake of Ethan’s head.

“You know I don’t believe in miracles. I believe in hard work, dedication, and plenty of grit. All things you have in spades. And all things that make us such great partners.” He grabbed another document from his briefcase and laid it out flat. Pie graphs and algorithm reports I didn’t have the first clue how to read stared back at me. “Between your campaign photo shoot next week with Hollywood Nights Cosmetics and the endorsement quotes Fashion Emporium is adding to their stores, I estimate your boost will be around twelve to thirteen percent.” He traced a line with his finger, indicating the growth he’d already mapped out. “But that leaves a large gap to fill while I work on getting you some more widespread campaigns. We also need to find the right celebrity collaboration, someone who will take your hand and pull you up to their level—I have a few ideas already in the works. But there’s something else as well.” When he looked up at me, I got that strange woozy feeling I had whenever I glanced down in a glass elevator.

“What?”

“We need to show a different side of you to the public eye, work to expand the reach of the woman behind Makeup Matters with Molly. Which is why item two is so important.”

I slid my focus down the page as his second point assaulted me in an entirely new way.

Partner with a human-interest cause

A burning sensation flared in my lower gut, a premonition I knew all too well. “What kind of human-interest cause?”

“It actually needs to be something quite specific.” Ethan leaned in, as if the discovery he was about to share was too confidential for my living room. “After