A Hollywood Bride (Billionaires' Brides of Convenience Book 2) (5 page)

“Are you going to pick whoever collects the most benjamins from you?” I ask. Elliot needs to marry for the same reason I do, and he’s sworn he’s going to marry a stripper to spite our image-conscious father.

“Or…something.” Elliot frowns. “Is everything okay? I saw the Tweets about your and Paige’s visit to an ER.”

“It’s fine.”

“The baby okay?”

Jesus
. So the pregnancy won’t be kept quiet until after the ceremony. “Yeah. No worries.”

Elliot sits up straighter and gestures for the women to leave. They go, showering him with blown kisses and smoldering gazes intended to convey sexual heat. One of them looks like she’s going to throw her back out swinging her hips as she walks away.

When we’re alone, he asks, “Is it yours?”

“What do you think?”

“That you should go home and do the groom-to-be stuff.”

I shake my head. “Paige wants to call it off.”

“Whoa, for real? Why the hell would she want to do that?”

“She claims she can’t go through with the whole thing if I don’t trust her. Apparently, my questioning her about the sex tape means I’m the one doing something wrong.”

“Did you let her know that you’re willing to listen to her story? You were pretty upset.”

“I never got a chance to say anything.” Frankly, I didn’t know
what
to say as soon as she opened her mouth and started talking about calling everything off. “She says I have to
choose
to believe her. Like that’s how it works.”

That’s certainly no longer how it works with me. I chose to believe Lauren from the very beginning. And how did that work out? It ruined my friendship with Anthony and almost destroyed my relationship with Elliot. There’s no question that the four-year history between me and Paige has erected a large edifice of trust. But what she did took a wrecking ball to the foundation. If her ex was really continuing to harass her, she should’ve told me. I would’ve taken care of it. She knows I have an entire team at my disposal to deal with annoying assholes.

But she didn’t. Is someone in my position supposed to take everything people say at face value, especially when things go south? And the whole “sex tape being released on the night of our engagement party” drove everything so fucking south, it ran smack into Antarctica.

Elliot pours me some scotch. “Well… If you want to back out, now’s the time. Mira and Christopher can spin it so that you won’t come out of the whole thing looking like some kind of an asshole. I mean, people are going to understand why you wouldn’t want to marry a woman who was caught screwing someone else on video.”

I knock back the drink and scowl at the heat singeing my throat. It isn’t that simple, and he doesn’t get it. But then how could he? I don’t even know why I feel the way I do. It’s not the first time a woman has stabbed me in the back.

Lauren’s betrayal infuriated me as much as it gutted me. Even as I tried to deny all the signs and evidence, my brain working overtime to come up with one implausible explanation after another for her behavior, my heart told me I was deluding myself. But with Paige, it’s different. I want to ignore the evidence and just accept her explanation that she’s a victim and that she honestly has zero interest in fame. Certainly she’s never indicated that she wanted to be in the business when she was working for me as my assistant. But Mira’s also right: people can change. Lauren didn’t do drugs when we first met either.

“I’m sorry I recommended Paige,” Elliot says, rubbing his forehead. “I honestly thought she would be good for you. Maybe you should follow your instincts and do it with some new model or actress whose agenda is clear. That way nothing they do can surprise you.”

I raise a hand to block his apology. “Not your fault. I’m the one who made the final decision.”

I take a long swallow of the scotch. My feelings are all jumbled. I feel like someone who was lost at sea and got tantalizingly close to reaching land, only to be carried away by the tides. But when I think about my grandfather’s portrait, I’m just…numb. And empty.

What is Paige going to do when she’s free of me? Ending our engagement won’t change the fact that she’s pregnant. And of course she’ll want the child taken care of. And that will require money…

Something’s been niggling at my mind, and it won’t go away. I try to relax, let the thought come…

The jacket. The one Paige was wearing knotted around her waist to cover up the blood-stain on her skirt.

It was a man’s jacket.

I pull out my phone and call the house. The housekeeper answers.

“Sue, there’s a man’s jacket in Paige’s laundry. Black, and too large for her. Can you check and tell me if the buttons have any particular letter or anything on them?”

“Hold on a sec.” A few minutes pass by, then she returns to the line. “Okay, I’m looking at it. Yes. They all have this big capital ‘R’.”

“Done like calligraphy, with the tail of the R in a kind of curlicue?”

“Uh huh. Like something out of a bible.”

I thank her and hang up.

Dad.

He doesn’t wear anything that cheap, but his chauffeur Perry does. Dad likes to have Rs on the staff uniforms. It makes him feel special, like he’s some kind of fucking royalty.

Paige avoided talking about who gave her a ride from the hospital. If it was no big deal, she would’ve told me. But she knows how things are between me and my father.

It is absolutely conceivable that Dad told her to do this. It’s not like he’s unable to offer her money. For I know, she could’ve released the sex tape herself because that’s what Dad wanted in return for some astounding sum.

Damn. This is so fucked up.

Even though Paige downplayed the money stuff in Samantha’s office, she could have had second thoughts. Or just gotten greedy. Buyers’ remorse is more common than people think. Just because they don’t tell you that they changed their mind out of fear of looking unreliable doesn’t mean they aren’t going to let their greed guide them.

I find that I’m breathing through my mouth. The scotch sits like acid in my belly, and my gut twists. Less than forty hours ago, I felt like the king of the world. I had a proper fiancée by my side, and my grandfather’s portrait was soon to be mine. Now everything feels ashen and dull.

Elliot gives me more scotch, then helps himself to some as well. “If you’re going to marry Paige in spite of everything, you two should present a united front. Unless you want to have people talking about your marriage forever.”

I grimace. He’s right, but I don’t want to discuss this crap anymore. “Bring the girls back in. I know you’re shopping for a bride.”

An easy grin pops on his face. “Don’t know if I want those same three. I’m not really seeing anybody my type.”

“Do you actually have a type?”

“Of course! Big tits and a nice ass, something to hold onto when I fuck her.”

I laugh in spite of myself. Good old Elliot. Never serious about women, and there’s something in his gaze that looks almost pained every time he thinks of marriage.

And why shouldn’t he feel awful? Marriage is a terrible thing. Just look at how it’s complicating my life, and I haven’t even exchanged vows with my fiancée yet.

I close my eyes and imagine what the ceremony is going to be like. But no matter how I try, I can’t picture anybody except Paige next to me.

Perhaps I should just go ahead. Like I told her, it’s only for a year, and it won’t be that hard to create a united front. I can start the process by ruining the son of a bitch who released that sex tape.

“Gotta go,” I say. “Good luck bride hunting.”

As I make my way downstairs, a topless woman is coming up. She pushes her tits my way. She’s a bottle blonde with dark roots showing. Her boobs are so plastic, she literally bounces back when she bumps me with them. “Where you going? You just got here.” She gives me an overly happy smile. “If you can wait just a few minutes, I’ll get off. And then
we
can go and get off.”

Despite all the artifice, she’s a good-looking woman. And if I’d run into her a month ago, maybe I would’ve said yes. But now I’m just not interested. She doesn’t have the softness or the natural curves that heat my blood.

And that’s another reason things seem hopeless. I can’t even interest myself in other women. I don’t know if it’s the promise I made Paige about being faithful so long as we’re together—I’ve never broken a promise to anyone—or something else…but a part of me broods in bitterness as I drive home.

Paige

I should probably go to bed and get some rest, but I can’t seem to get my brain to cut off. I sit up after a while and make my way downstairs. Simon and Mom are leaving for Sweet Hope tomorrow. Instead of stewing in bed, I should spend some time with them. Mom is a night owl after all.

My hip is better as I walk to the guest-house where Simon and Mom are staying. Ryder’s magic ointment seems to be working.

As I walk through the massive garden, I can’t help but feel a slight bit of regret that I ended up ruining what could’ve been a nice moment. I know I did the right thing by airing out what’s been festering between us, but the part of me that prefers to bury my head in the sand would’ve been happier if we’d just made out and faked everything.

After all, our current relationship is fake. What’s one more bit of fakery on top of a towering cake of fakeness?

I ring the door at the guest-house. The light is on in the main living room. Despite the unpretentious name, the place is a mini-mansion with multiple suites and a full-time housekeeper. The door opens and reveals my mom in a housedress with a pink and yellow flower design. “Paige! I didn’t know you were still up.”

“Couldn’t fall asleep. Is Simon up too?”

She shakes her head. “Dead to the world. He was wiped out from sightseeing today. Ryder’s people did a great job of setting everything up so it wasn’t overly tiring, and we got to see a lot of what we’ve always wanted to see. But you know how Simon is. Doesn’t do well without his routines.”

I grin. Simon is such an influence in my life, but sometimes he reminds me of a child.

“And you?” She searches my face. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, sure. Fine.”

She frowns. I don’t think she buys that at all. But then I guess that’s what makes her a mother. “Want to take a walk?” she asks.

“Aren’t you tired?”

“Oh, I can manage a midnight stroll. I’m younger than your father after all.”

That makes me chuckle. “Okay. Let’s go.”

She puts a hand in the crook of my arm. The garden is dark except for lamps set in elaborate knee-high wrought iron posts. We walk side-by-side on the pebbled path that winds through rose bushes and other flowering plants I don’t know the name of.

“This is a gorgeous garden. And so functional, too.”

“Functional?”

“There’s a vegetable patch in the back. I also saw some herbs and berries.”

“Oh.”

“You never noticed?”

I shake my head. “No. I’ve seen some of his garden, but never really explored the entire place here.”

We reach the man-made pond. The surface is covered with water lilies, and always reminds me of Monet. We sit on a bench, listening to the chirping of the night bugs.

“How are you holding up?” Mom asks.

“Great,” I say, trying for offhand cheer.

She gives me a stern, penetrating look, the kind that seems to peer into your soul.

“All right. Not great. It’s been hard.”

She takes my hand and pats it as if to say “there there.”

“That damn tape has just…made a mess of everything. And I’m really sorry. I know it’s affecting you as well.”

“Sometimes people betray our trust, but that doesn’t mean it’s your fault.”

Don’t I know it? But knowing intellectually and knowing something deep in your heart are two different things. I stare at the lilies, silvery black in the moonlight. “I wish Dad were alive.”

Mom’s hand tightens around mine. “What do you mean?” Her voice is brittle, and the words sound forced. It’s like she’d rather talk about anything but Dad.

No real surprise, once I stop to think about it. I haven’t talked about Dad in forever.

“It’s just…” I turn fully toward her. “If Dad were alive, I might not feel the need to be perfect all the time.”

Even in the dim light, I can see Mom’s face crumple. The lines around her eyes seem to deepen, and her lips thin.

I must’ve stunned her. Despite thinking about him from time to time, I don’t talk about him because I don’t want to pain Mom. The stories she’s told me about him are lovely, and I know if he’d lived, he would’ve been Father of the Century.

Leaning closer, Mom lowers her voice. “Has Simon ever told you you were disappointing in some—?”

“No!” I say quickly before she jumps to any conclusions. “Simon’s always been great. But I do worry about disappointing him. I always feel like the good things we have in our life might disappear unless I’m good.”

Mom gasps. “Paige, my dear.” She puts her arms around me. “We’ll love you no matter what. Sometimes bad things happen to good people, and it’s not because they made a mistake or because they weren’t perfect.”

“You know I’m pregnant.”

Mom pulls back. “Is that the reason for this sudden marriage?”

Well, there’s more to it than that. But I don’t want to get into all the details. “Basically.”

“I see.” Mom holds both my hands in hers, warming them. My mother’s hands aren’t the softest, but they’re very comforting. “You shouldn’t feel obligated to make a decision—one that can impact your life so much—just because of the baby. Simon and I can help you with it if need be. And if you don’t feel like that’s an option, well, there’s always abortion.”

My entire body stills. A hard ball lodges in my chest. “What? But…it’s your grandchild.”

“I know, but… Honestly, it’s better not to have a child if it’s unwanted.” Mom straightens her spine, pulling her shoulders back. “Marriage can have serious repercussions. When you marry somebody like Ryder, the effects are amplified. Don’t let one unintended pregnancy decide the rest of your life. You’re still so young. A responsibility as big as a child closes a lot of doors.”