A Hollywood Bride (Billionaires' Brides of Convenience Book 2) (9 page)

I jerk upright in my seat. “You’re a genius.”

“I know, but I can handle only so much incompetence and stupidity. At the rate it’s going, I’m gonna—”

“I gotta go.”

“What? Wait.”

“And you can fire the temp.” I hang up.

Unable to sit still, I jump up and start pacing. Of course! Why didn’t I think of it before? Paige needs income and medical insurance to get through her pregnancy.

It’s probably the best leverage I have. And while Elizabeth might be right about my being an ass, I’m not letting it go to waste.

Paige

Bethany’s car isn’t starting this morning, so we take my Altima to her office. After arriving, I spend an hour in an empty cubicle, reading and trying to relax. Then I walk the few blocks to the offices of Jones & Jones. Once this meeting is over, I’ll go back and get Bethany so we can go home together after lunch. She’s only working four hours today.

Marble, sunlight and the smell of stratospheric levels of success pervade the lobby of Jones & Jones. Ryder’s attorney, Samantha Jones sent me a text requesting a meeting. I hit the elevator button and take a deep breath. She probably wants to talk about the prenup.

The wedding is definitely off, and I assume that means Ryder’s and my prenup becomes invalid. But maybe there are still papers that I have to sign to cancel it or something.

Ryder’s parting words about what walking out would mean still ring in my ears. Given how he isn’t going to compromise or change, I know in my mind that I did the right thing.

Now if I could just convince my heart, I’d be all set.

A well-groomed receptionist stands up when she spots me. She gives me a standard I’m-doing-my-job smile. “Hello Ms. Johnson. Everyone’s waiting.”

She leads me down the hall to the conference room where Ryder and I first came for our prenup discussion with Samantha. Despite her disapproval, he insisted I take his money to ensure my child’s future. And my own as well.

It feels odd to realize that this is how it’s going to end between us. We should’ve never tried to fake a wedding and all the other stuff. It’s partly my fault for wanting to marry rather than just admit to Mom and Simon that I was pregnant. Shame and the need for approval can make people do really stupid things.

I walk into the room. The monolithic conference table still dominates, chairs surrounding it like sunflower petals. The air has the same faint smell of fresh wax and paper.

My gaze falls on the chair where I sat last time. God, the memory heats my face. Ryder pushed me onto the table and gave me not only the hottest orgasm I’ve ever had, but the hottest one I could ever imagine. I climaxed so hard and fast, I finally understood why the French call it
the little death
.

Ryder is sitting at the table now, and something dark and knowing passes in his eyes. He doesn’t say anything, though…just picks up a pitcher and pours water into an empty glass.

He’s wearing a power suit—the dark navy with chocolate pinstripes. The color darkens his eyes to an Atlantic ultramarine. His steel-gray silk tie is knotted perfectly, and an air of dynastic opulence and wealth surrounds him. It says he expects the world to turn as he wills.

Of course I know he doesn’t really expect such things. I’ve seen his struggles, know his issues. You don’t work with somebody for close to half a decade and not notice. But his charisma is such that I almost forget all that as I look at him.

Unlike him, I’m in a cream-colored tunic and a dark brown skirt with silver flowers that ends an inch over my knees. The only accessories I have on are my pearl earrings and the one-of-a-kind engagement ring he gave me.

I sit across from him. “Where’s Samantha?”

“Not coming.” He pushes the glass of water my way.

I frown. “Are we rescheduling?”

“Nope. We don’t need her to talk about what we need to talk about.”

“You could’ve called.”

He raises an eyebrow. “So you can ignore me?”

I look away. “You said it was over.” I don’t care what Elliot said. He can’t possibly know everything between me and Ryder. Besides, Elliot’s always going to be on his brother’s side.

“You walked out.”

“You forced me into the position.”

“And all over some flowers.” He mutters something that sounds suspiciously like “for fuck’s sake.”

“To you they were flowers. To me, they symbolized the dictatorial way you’re approaching our relationship.” I shake my head slightly. “Approached.”

The muscles in his jaw tense for a moment, then he shrugs. “Anyway, I’m not here to fight.”

“Then what do you want?” He could’ve summoned me here for all sorts of reasons. My best guess is to find a way to end the wedding and who’s going to be responsible for the deposits and expenses so far. He said he’d take care of the ceremony, but that was when we were actually going to do it. I don’t know how he feels about paying for everything now, and frankly, I’d prefer to pay part of it myself so I don’t have anything hanging over me. I hate owing people.

“If you aren’t going to marry me, you should at least continue as my assistant,” he says.

Shock ripples through me. “Are you serious?”

“I’m always serious about work.”

I shake my head. “I can’t just…
continue
, as if the last few weeks never happened.”

“You have a different job lined up?”

“No. I’m looking, though.”

“Might be hard to find one,” he observes. “You’re kind of notorious at the moment.”

My hands tighten into fists. I hate it when people point out what I’m trying very hard to deny. “Is that damned tape going to haunt me for the rest of my life?”

“Nah,” he says with a shrug. “People will forget about it when juicier news comes around. Ten years from now, and it’ll be like it never existed.”

Damn you
,
Shaun
.

“But even without the sex tape, you won’t find a new job anytime soon.” He gestures at my belly. “You’re pregnant.”

I rub my forehead. It’s starting to hurt now.

Ryder continues, “You’re going to need income and medical insurance. Prenatal care isn’t cheap, and Dr. Silverman doesn’t even accept insurance. Her practice is strictly on a concierge basis.”

This is bad news. Really bad. Dr. Silverman is the best doctor I’ve ever had. She actually spends time with me and listens to my concerns and discusses everything in detail. And with the bleeding I had earlier, I would vastly prefer to have her providing me with the care my baby and I need.

“But if you come back to your old job, I can pay for all that,” Ryder continues. “She’ll be better for you and the baby anyway.”

The offer is tempting, but I’m not convinced he has no ulterior motive. He can be unexpectedly sweet, but I’ve also seen him at his devious best—or worst—when he’s fixated on getting his way. “Why are you doing this?”

He looks toward the ceiling and a slow smile spreads over his face. “I’m tired of dealing with my own mail?” He looks at me, squinting slightly, to see if I’m going to go for the ploy.

The gall of the man
. “Try again.”

The smile vanishes, and silence stretches. Then he finally sighs. “Okay.” He leans forward, placing his linked hands on the table. “Look, Paige. We’ve wasted enough time being at odds with each other. Frankly, I don’t like that. We’ve never fought like this before, and I don’t understand why it’s happening now. I mean, all we’re trying to do is the right thing for each other. Right? A temporary marriage would solve both our problems, and it’d be so damn neat.” He clears his throat. “And I’m sorry for saying that it would be over if you walked out. Once I calmed down, it was obvious you needed some time to cool off.”

“So you think the problem is our tempers?” My teeth grind together. “That I’m just…pissy?”

“What else can it be?”

“Your idea of a relationship between us is, you issue an order and I obey regardless of how I feel about it. I didn’t realize it until we hit that bump.” I pause, taking a moment to collect myself. “You said we needed to put on a good show. But I’m not an actor like you, Ryder. I can’t fake things I don’t feel. I just…can’t.”

“So it’s a no?” His voice lacks all inflection.

“I…” I stop.

If it were just me, I’d say no. I don’t want to risk hurting myself anymore. It cut deep when he thought the worst of me based on his experience with Lauren, and it kept bleeding when he continued to act like I was betraying him by being civil to Anthony, who’s probably just as plugged in as everyone else and saw the news and decided to send flowers as an apology. There was no reason for me to reject that. I’d prefer that Ryder and Anthony reconcile rather than keep on with the hostility because of what happened with a woman who’s been dead and buried for a while now.

But I have a baby to consider. I can’t stay at Bethany’s place indefinitely. After all, she’s expecting too. And I can’t go home to Sweet Hope, not for a while. That town is full of busybodies who’ll sniff around shamelessly for every morsel of gossip.

And as much as I hate to admit it, I need the best care money can buy. That means Ryder is my best chance. But god…I
hate
it that I’m being forced into making a decision I’m not sure about due to circumstances beyond my control.

“If you don’t want to make up your mind right now, tell me tomorrow,” he says. “Or you can just simply move back in.”

“Move back in?”

“All your stuff is at my place, and you’re better off there anyway. Better security and privacy. If you want, you can take the guest house.”

Like that’s going to make any real difference
. I exhale with frustration. “Do you really want to do this?”

“I do.”

Without thinking, I rest a hand on my belly. “All right. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

* * *

Ryder

I let out a heavy sigh when the door closes behind Paige. If Mira knew how unprepared I was, she would’ve yelled at me.
When you go into a negotiation
,
you have to know exactly what you want to get out of it
…
and when you’re going to walk away from the deal
. How many times has she told me that?

The only thing I knew was that I wanted Paige back somehow and that I wasn’t going to walk away. No matter what.

Does this mean I can actually pretend that the sex tape and all that shit never happened? No. But I’m willing to deal with the fallout. I have an entire team for that. What I can’t handle is how cavernous and empty my house felt after Paige left.

I get up and leave. When I get to the lobby, not only do the receptionist’s eyes soften, her entire face melts into the usual “you’re so dreamy” look. More or less on auto-pilot, I shoot her an empty grin I’ve perfected over the years…but I keep on walking. If we’d met before Paige and I decided to get married, I might’ve considered banging her. But now not even a whiff of interest stirs inside me.

The elevator bank is empty. Guess Paige already went down to the lobby. I’m confident she’ll say yes. After all, a baby is kind of the ultimate leverage. I should probably feel bad about that, but I don’t. I’m willing to fight that dirty.

I’m parked in the garage on the next block. I step out of the building and immediately stop. There’s some kind of commotion going on, and the security guards have left their station to gawk.

“What’s going on?” I ask an older guy in a suit who’s walking past.

He glances back. “Fight. Some girl and a bunch of other people.”

I shake my head and think about going a different way to my car. I like rubbernecking as much as the next person, but I can’t afford to get involved in a street fight. Then I see a familiar figure in the throng.

Tall, with dark hair and a slim but lean frame, Anthony is in the middle. There’s something white smeared on his face, and my jaw loosens. I’ve never seen him in a brawl, ever.

Unable to stop myself, I start walking toward the scene. The crowd vibrates with righteous anger or something close to it.

“Slut!”

“You fat bitch! You aren’t that special!”

The epithets continue. Most of them are pretty pedestrian, but the tone makes them unusually vicious. I recognize a bouncer from the club with Anthony. Based on the cuss words, the people aren’t trying to attack
him
. So why is he in the middle of it?

Then I see. The golden hair pulled back in a ponytail and the back of a cream shirt and brown skirt.

My brain takes no time at all. It’s obvious what’s going on. The sleeve of Paige’s tunic is torn, and there’s some kind of red sauce on her face.

I run down and put myself between Paige and the screeching sociopaths. The crowd isn’t all women. A fair number of them are men, and they throw out words to egg on the women. Some of them have their phones out to record the incident.

Not a single one tries to help Paige. Well. Except for Anthony and his bouncer.

I feel something cold land on the back of my neck. I drag Paige back to the lobby. “Close the fucking doors and do your job!” I shout at the idiotic security guards.

As if my order snaps them out of a dream, they jump and block the people from following us in. Anthony and the bouncer guy are allowed inside, probably because the guards saw them helping Paige before.

Her eyes are a little glassy, and she’s shaking. I wrap my arms around her, not caring about the sauce and other crap. Her heart beats against mine like a frightened bird’s, and helplessness and fury twist into an ugly knot.

“What the hell happened?” I snarl at nobody in particular. It’s that or go out and start beating the shit out of people. I’m not the kind of guy who likes to beat people up for just kicks—that honor goes to one of my cousins—but this is different.

“Someone cast the first stone,” Anthony murmurs.

“What?”

“At first, those people were only taking photos and verbally harassing her. They got more aggressive when she shielded her face and tried to ignore them. Finally, one of them threw something at her—“

“A leftover hotdog,” the bouncer says.

“—and it escalated from there. As I said, the first stone.”