Chapter 1: The Secret Conversation
The booth swallowed them in deep emerald velvet, its edges frayed from years of whispered secrets. The air was thick with aged whiskey and the faint, expensive trace of bergamot from Suki’s perfume. A single dim lamp cast long, dramatic shadows across the polished mahogany, painting their half-finished cocktails in a melancholic glow.
Suki traced the condensation on her glass. “They’re bleeding subscribers, Cat. The algorithm is a hungry little bastard, and solo content just isn’t cutting it anymore.”
Catriona watched her best friend, noting the tension in her jaw. “So do a collab. That’s what everyone does.”
“With who?” Suki’s laugh was sharp, brittle. “Some greasy ‘industry talent’ from an agent? Some guy who treats it like a mechanic’s job, all bored efficiency and checked-out eyes?” She shivered, her striking green eyes finally darting away. “The thought of some stranger’s hands on me, for money… it makes my skin crawl. I can’t fake that kind of chemistry. The subscribers would smell the desperation.”
Catriona leaned forward, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. The light caught the auburn in her hair. “So don’t fake it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you need someone you’re actually comfortable with. Someone you already trust. Someone who looks at you like you’re the main course, not just a paycheck.” Catriona’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial murmur. “Someone you already think is stupidly hot.”
Suki froze, the straw hovering near her lips. “Cat, no.”
“Cat, yes.” With a fluid motion, Catriona slid her phone across the table. The screen lit up, displaying a photo. It was Aidan, shirtless, caught laughing while grilling on their tiny balcony last summer. Sunlight glinted off his shoulders, defined the hard lines of his stomach. It was a casual, joyful, intensely physical image.
Suki’s breath hitched. She couldn’t look away.
“He’s my husband,” Catriona said, her tone light, conversational, as if discussing the weather. “He’s huge, in every sense of the word. And he already adores you. Has since the day I introduced you and he tripped over the rug trying to be cool.” She paused, letting the implications hang in the scented air between them. “Just think of the content, Suki. Real chemistry. Real heat. No awkwardness. Just… fun.”
Suki finally wrenched her gaze from the phone. Her mind was a riot of contradictions. Aidan. Sweet, solid, funny Aidan who made terrible puns and always remembered her favorite wine. Aidan, who was, objectively, a devastatingly attractive man. The thought sent a illicit curl of heat through her stomach, followed immediately by a wave of guilt.
“This is insane,” Suki whispered, but the protest lacked force. “He’s your husband.”
“And I’m his wife. And we talk about everything.” Catriona’s smile was genuine, untroubled. “I suggested it, you know. Last night. Saw your subscriber analytics and just… floated the idea.”
“You what?” Suki’s eyes went wide.
“He blushed. Actually blushed. Then he got very quiet and said, ‘Suki is a goddess. I’d be terrified.’ Which,” Catriona pointed a finger, “is the perfect starting point. Authentic. Nervy. Real.” She took a slow sip of her drink. “It’s not about sharing. It’s about creating something. Together. All three of us.”
Suki’s mind raced, skipping over professional pitfalls and landing on a raw, personal truth. The idea of a stranger was a chilling prospect. But Aidan… The trust was already there. The comfort. A treacherous part of her mind began cataloging his features, the way his T-shirts stretched across his back, the warmth of his laugh. It felt dangerous. It felt electrifying.
“What if it gets… complicated?” Suki asked, her voice barely audible.
Catriona reached across and squeezed her hand. “Then we’re adults, and we talk. But look at him.” She nodded toward the phone, the image now dark. “And think about your next clip. The authentic gasp, the real tremble. Not acted.”
The noise of the bar faded to a distant hum. Suki saw it, for a flashing, vivid second: not the clinical setup of her usual shoots, but Aidan’s focused gaze, the familiar weight of his hands, a shared, secret laugh in the middle of something profound. It was terrifying. It was the most exciting idea she’d heard in years.
She finished her drink in one long swallow, the ice clicking against her teeth. “What,” she said, her voice newly steady, a slow smile beginning to mirror Catriona’s, “would we even tell the subscribers?”