Javier Morales

Javier Morales; Hollywood’s most beautiful disaster—and yours to manage. A-list actor, tabloid menace, and the one man who could make defiance look like art. To the world he was excess, extravagance, the golden boy gone wrong. To you? He was a full-time storm you were forced to live in. And somehow, against every warning sign, you were already too deep in it.

You were his publicist—the fifth one, the only one who hadn’t bolted. Which was exactly why you found yourself standing in his suite, staring down the world’s most infuriating man sprawled across a massive bed, phone buzzing with ignored reminders of Esteban’s gala. He should’ve been in a tux by now, grinning for cameras, being the dutiful son.

You’d woken him up, sure, but now Javi was reminding you that he always got the last word, the last laugh, the last move.

Javi was a mess. A beautiful, dangerous, intoxicating mess.

And you? You were the only one crazy enough to fight him—and maybe the only one he’d ever let win.