The Princess and the Porn Star

Dedication

Thank you to Anne Tenino, from whose twisted mind came the glorious name Buck Harder.

Chapter One

Rachel

“A porn star?” I stared at my manager in disbelief. “Are you
kidding
me?”

Leaning against the off-white wall of the cramped space that served as my dressing room, Rich shook his head. “Not kidding.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose and forced a breath out through clenched teeth. “Look, dancing with some guy is one thing”—I dropped my hand and looked at him again—“but this is a bit over the top, don’t you think?”

Shrugging, Rich said, “Well, it’s not your decision. This is what the label wants.”

“How does this make any sense, though?” I threw up my hand. “The company that spent how long spelling out my morality clause so I know in no uncertain terms they can drop me if I step even a little out of line and tarnish their image, and now
they’re
bringing a
porn star
into my damned video?”

Rich shouldered himself off the wall. “Rachel. Hon.” He adopted that condescending tone that had always made my teeth grind. “The idea is that you’re breaking out of your squeaky-clean image from your early career.” The smile was as condescending as his voice. “Olivia Taylor has grown up.”

I glared at him. “Grown up and, what? Joined a whorehouse?”

Rich laughed. “It’s not like you’re going to be
in
a porno with him. They’re just bringing him in because he’ll be unexpected and he’s got sex appeal. He’s risqué and forbidden, so the video will have that quality.”

“Are you suggesting I don’t have sex appeal?”

“Of course you do,” he said with a dismissive gesture. “But not the way a porn star does. I should also add that for a porn star, he’s quite popular with females in the demographic we’re targeting.”

I folded my arms across my chest. “Since when are porn stars popular with women?”

He chuckled. “Since Buck Harder showed up on the scene, apparently.”

A snort that was equal parts derisive and amused came from behind me and reminded me that Quinn, my assistant, was still in the room. He followed it with a muffled, “Sorry…”

I didn’t look at him, though. To Rich, I said, “Buck. Harder.” I raised both eyebrows. “You’re serious.”

“Yes.” Rich tilted his head a little, making the fluorescent glare on his bald head shift toward what was left of his hairline. “I don’t know what you’re so upset about. You aren’t going to be doing anything but dancing with him.”

“Then why a porn star?” I asked.

He shrugged again. “What we’re trying to present is the image of a woman who’s taken control. You’re a powerful vixen, and you’re not ashamed of your sexuality.”

“I’m not ashamed of my breasts, either,” I grumbled, “but I’d prefer to keep them in my clothes if that’s all right with Risen Star.”

Rich just laughed. “Well, the decision has been made. Besides, you know what they say. There’s no such thing as bad publicity.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Says the man who’s never been dropped from a record label for misbehaving in the headlines.”

“You’re not misbehaving in the headlines.” He gave an exasperated sigh. “You’re just projecting a sexier, more mature image. That, and you’re clean now, which is what I think the label was more concerned about.” Before I could reply, he added, “Your music is better than it’s ever been, kid, and if this album sells, you’re golden. If this video ups those sales, then…” He trailed off with yet another shrug. “Why do you care what your dance partner does with the rest of his life?”

“Rich, my new contract specifically says Risen Star will drop me in a damned heartbeat if I bring in any bad press.”

He waved a hand. “That clause is just to cover their asses. You know that. They’re concerned about you going back to rehab or something. They’re not going to drop you unless you really screw up and make them look bad.”

“And yet they’re the ones putting me in a video with a fucking
porn star
.”

“Rachel. Sweetheart.” He put his hands on my shoulders and gave me that serious look that made me feel like a damned child. “You’re still on thin ice with the label, and they’re still not a hundred percent sure about bringing you back on board in the first place. You need to play their game and do things their way for a while, even if you don’t agree with or understand them.”

I sighed, and my shoulders sank beneath his hands. What could I say? Risen Star held all the cards, and until I proved myself a worthy risk, I didn’t have many options.

“It’s either do what they say,” Rich went on, “or go back to doing reality shows for washed-up celebrities. And even they aren’t all that interested in you anymore.”

“Ouch.”

His bushy eyebrows rose, and his forehead creased. “Am I wrong?”

Another sigh, this time made of pure defeat. “No. You’re not.”

“Good. Now get dressed.” He patted my shoulder. “Director wants you front and center in half an hour.”

“Okay,” was all I said.

“Trust me, hon. The marketing guys and the director know what they’re doing.”

“I hope so,” I said flatly.

He turned to go, and when the door closed behind him, I let out a breath and sank onto a folding chair.

“Jesus H.” Quinn gave a dramatic huff from the other chair where he’d been sitting quietly this whole time. Glaring at the door over his black-framed hipster glasses, he said, “That guy doesn’t just drink Risen Star’s Kool-Aid. He cuts that shit into lines and snorts it.” The second the words were out, Quinn clapped a hand over his mouth. “Shit, I’m sorry. That—”

“It’s okay. You’re probably right anyway.” I ran a hand through my hair and scowled. “Besides, what choice does he have?” I leaned back in the chair. “We all know he’s right.”

Quinn clicked his tongue. “He’s still a douche, and I don’t mean the anal kind that’s actually useful.”

“God. Quinn.” I wrinkled my nose and couldn’t help giggling as I covered my face with my hands. “Eww.”

He smothered a laugh. “That got a smile out of you. I regret nothing.”

I laughed again, this time halfheartedly. “I cannot believe they’re sticking me with a porn star.”

Immediately, I knew that was the wrong choice of words, but before I could come up with something else, Quinn deadpanned, “I wouldn’t mind someone sticking me with a porn star.”

“Of course you wouldn’t.” I shook my head. “This whole thing is just insane, though.”

“Well, Rich
did
make one good point.” Quinn’s tone had shifted to a gentle but serious one. “This guy they’re bringing has got to have some sex appeal, and we all know sex sells.”

“Yeah, I know it does. But this seems… I mean it sounds…” I leaned forward and rubbed my temples. “Do I sound like as much of a whiny spoiled brat to you as I do to myself?”

“Honey.
Honey.
” He got up, dragged his chair over to mine and sat beside me. Then his cool, perfectly manicured hand closed around mine. “Rachel, look at me.”

I did.

He took off his glasses and looked me in the eye. “This is your dream. It’s fallen apart once before, and you’re getting the second chance you didn’t think you’d ever get. You’ve grown up since the last time. You’ve learned so,
so
much. You’ve also crashed and burned, so you know exactly how much you have to lose.” He squeezed my hand. “You’re not being a spoiled brat, sweetie. You’re looking at things and questioning them because you don’t want your dream getting away from you again, whether it’s because you screwed up or because some douchewaffle comb-over corporate cocksucker did.”

I burst into giggles. “You are so eloquent, Quinn.”

He grinned. “But I’m right, yes?”

Nodding, I sighed. “Yeah, you are. I’m really trying to walk the line for these people, but I’m so scared it’s going to get yanked out from under me at any moment.”

Quinn put his arm around my shoulders. “I don’t blame you, sweetheart. But you’re going to prove yourself this time. You’ve cleaned up, you’ve grown up, and even if this video blows up in everyone’s faces, you’re not going to make the mistakes you did before.”

I released a breath. “Thanks, Quinn.”

“Any time.” He squeezed me gently. Then he sat back and clapped sharply before gesturing toward the clothes hanging beside the door. “All right, pep talk’s over. Get dressed. Hop to it.”

I gave him the most half-assed salute I could muster. “Yes, sir.”

He laughed and pushed himself up. Strutting toward the rack of clothes, he threw over his shoulder, “You wearing the black or the white first?”

“Doesn’t matter,” I said. “We’re just rehearsing today, but the director wants us doing it in costume so we get used to moving in those clothes.”

“Can’t imagine why.” He eyed the dresses. “I’ve worn condoms bigger than—”

“
Quinn
.”

“What? I’m just saying.”

“Uh-huh.”

He looked at the shining leather dresses again. “Seriously, if these things are as tight as they look, you should get a whole day just to practice breathing in something like that.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I stood and pulled off my T-shirt. “Give it here.”

He stroked his chin as he looked from one dress to the other. Then he plucked the black one off the rack. “Probably shouldn’t wear the white one today. One smudge on that leather, and…” He followed it with a look of disgusted horror.

I laughed. “God forbid.”

I stripped out of my clothes, and Quinn helped me pour myself into the leather dress, which was low on the top, high on the bottom and super tight all the way through.

“Holy crap.” I pretended to gag.

Quinn smirked. “Can’t breathe?”

“Not really.” I pulled in some air, and I wasn’t sure if it was the leather or my ribs doing the squeaking. “I think someone’s still making my clothes to fit the old Olivia Taylor.”

Quinn peered at me over his glasses. “Darling, if you can ever fit into any of those clothes again, I will drag you by the hair to Burger King and force feed you Whoppers.” His meticulously plucked eyebrow arched, and though he was good-natured about it, we both knew damn well he wasn’t kidding.

“Don’t worry.” I tugged at the skirt so it might leave at least something to the imagination. “Not going down that road again.”

“Good,” he said quietly.

I gave him a reassuring smile. “I promise.”

He returned the smile, then picked up one of the two shoeboxes off the floor. “Black shoes today?”

“Yep.” I put a hand to my chest and batted my eyes. “Heaven forbid I have to put you to work wiping scuffs off the white ones.”

“Watch it, sister,” he said as he pushed aside the tissue paper around the shoes, “or you’ll be explaining bloodstains on these—” He blinked. “Oh dear Lord.”

“What?”

“Well.” He did that looking-over-his-glasses thing again. “Guess as long as they have you barely dressed and dancing with a porn star, they might as well put you in…” He withdrew one of the shoes.

One of the strappy leather shoes with a stiletto heel that was sharp enough to be a murder weapon and high enough to give me altitude sickness.

“Stripper heels,” I muttered as I took it from him. “But of course.”

“They
do
go with the outfit.” He snickered. “And your dance partner.”

“Mm-hmm.” I sat in the folding chair again, wincing as the ridiculously tight dress compressed all my vital organs. “So help me, if there’s a pole on that set, I am
done
.”

“Well, if there is,” he said matter-of-factly, “it’ll probably be him dancing on it, not you.”

“Good point.” I leaned forward, but the dress stopped me well before my fingers came close to reaching my feet. “Oh. Hmm. This could be a problem.”

“Dresses like that aren’t for bending, dear.” Quinn snatched the shoe from me. “Now sit up straight and give me your foot.”

“You want it in your mouth or your groin?”

He held out the shoe. “You want to do this on your own?”

I sat back and lifted my foot.

“That’s a good girl.”

As Quinn buckled the strap around my ankle, just above the scar from the last surgery, I was sure I could hear my orthopedist screaming with frustration.