A Hollywood Bride (Billionaires' Brides of Convenience Book 2) (19 page)

He doesn’t answer.

“They’re doing fine, okay? And it’s thanks to the excellent care she got at the hospital, which was largely due to your talk with Rob.”

Ryder’s lips part, then he looks away.

I’m not letting him ignore that. I put a hand on his cheek and guide his face back until we make eye contact. “I saw Bethany yesterday. She’s glowing…despite the bruises. She’ll be fine. The baby’ll be fine.”

“I know.”

And he believes it. It’s in his eyes. But his voice is off. It isn’t the usual light, flirty tone or the occasional serious, decisive tone. It’s wavering between fear and indecision. “Then what’s wrong?”

“It’s… I just have a lot on my mind, that’s all.”

“Is it because Elliot’s trying to marry a stripper?” That’s the only thing I can think of.

Now he really looks at me. “How did you know that?”

“He told me. He came by Bethany’s place when I was staying there. He wanted to explain that nothing happened at the club, and that the only reason you guys were at the strip joint is because he was looking for a bride.”

“Is that why you eventually decided to come back?”

“No.” He asked me why Ryder’s trust mattered so much to me even though we’re only marrying for a year. I wasn’t able to answer him, but now I wonder if my subconscious already knew I was in love with Ryder. “It was…something else.”

Ryder nods. “Okay. Well, it’s not about him. I knew about his plans, and, you know, whatever. I don’t care if he wants to marry some glorified hooker.”

My mouth hangs open. “The idea doesn’t bother you at all?”

“He has his reasons for doing things, and he can be quite the rebel. He doesn’t have to worry about a public image, and he hates doing things just because other people tell him to. Not to mention he has more money than he knows what to do with. So…no, it doesn’t. He can go ahead and do whatever he wants.”

“Wow.”

A smile ghosts over Ryder’s lips. “Yeah. ‘Wow’ is most people’s reaction to Elliot.”

I grin at him, wrapping my arms around his torso. I don’t know what to tell him to make whatever he’s worried about go away. But I’ll offer what comfort I can.

He rests his chin lightly on the top of my head and squeezes me back.

“Thank you,” he whispers after a moment.

“For what?”

“For being with me. And for being you.”

We stay like that together for I don’t know how long until my phone goes off. I pull away reluctantly.

It’s a text from Oliver.
The police caught the other driver
.

Who?
I type and hit send.

Some psycho fan of Ryder’s
.
Apparently she’s been stalking and sending him gifts and stuff
.
Actually she was arrested not too long ago for trying to assault him at a hospital
.

That doesn’t make any sense.
Why would a stalker try to hurt Bethany?

She thought it was you in the car
.
Bethany was in your Altima
.
Didn’t we tell you?

No
, I start to type, my fingers numb and clumsy, then stop. He might’ve told me, but I might’ve not heard. I was beside myself with worry and the worst-case scenario at the hospital. I delete
No
and respond,
Maybe
.
Don’t remember
.

If we didn’t
,
sorry
.
I called the insurance when I knew Bethany was going to be okay
,
and they’ve been in touch with us to get more info
,
etc
.

No
,
no
,
I’m so sorry
.
I’m so sorry
.
It’s all my fault
.
I should’ve thought of the possibility before I let her take my car
.

Oliver’s reply is instant.
Do NOT blame yourself
,
Paige
.
It’s not your fault
.
You’re not responsible for other people’s actions
.

I close my eyes. If I hadn’t let her drive my car, she wouldn’t have been run off the road. No, my car has nothing to do with any of this. It’s all because people see a bull’s-eye painted on my back.

Now the name Reed on the contract from the investor for Bethany’s company is feeling less and less coincidental. What if it’s something more nefarious? After all, people I love are getting hurt…because of me.

“Paige? You okay?” Ryder asks, peering at my face.

“The driver who ran Bethany off the road. They caught her.”

“Her?” His voice is much too cautious.

“One of your stalker fans. A really dedicated one, who got arrested not too long ago for trying to get to you at a hospital.”

Both of his eyebrows rise, but not before his face turns white and his Adam’s apple bobs.

“Did you know?” I ask.

He shoves his hands into his pockets. “I wondered when I heard that Bethany was driving your Altima and that the ‘fan’ was out of jail.”

“Is that why you’ve been acting so odd the last two days?”

Two beats, then he says, “Partly, yes.”

“I see. I…wish you’d told me.”

“I wasn’t sure.”

I drop my head. “I hate this, Ryder. I really do.”

“Paige…”

“I let her borrow my car because hers was having trouble. No big deal, right? For most people, it’s not a big deal.”

“You’re right. It’s not a big deal.”

“But it became one.” Tears prickle my eyes. “I can’t even do something nice for my stepsister without getting her hurt, and all because I’m…” I stop to take a shuddering breath. “I don’t even know what I am to the public. People want to hate me, fine.” I slash the air with my hand. “If they want to make memes or write terrible things about me, you know, whatever. But they can’t…” I press my lips until they’re numb. “They can’t hurt my friends and family. It’s not fair.”

“Paige, they won’t. I won’t let them.”

He wraps his arms around me, and I absorb the warm comfort he’s offering. “Maybe we should go overseas,” I say, my words muffled. “I hate it that we’re running because of…
them
. But if people know we aren’t even in the country, they might leave my family alone.”

“Okay. So let’s go.”

I tilt my head so I can look at his gorgeous face. “Where were you thinking about?”

“Not Europe. Too much press there.” He frowns. “How about southeast Asia?”

“It sounds so far away.”

“Well, that’s the point, right? And it’s not that bad.”

My phone buzzes again in my hand. I look down, expecting Oliver again. But it’s Gary.

The trust is actually owned by Mira Brasson’s agency
.
I’m surprised you didn’t know
…
isn’t she Ryder’s agent? Maybe she’s managing it for Ryder
.

I shake my head in disbelief. There is no way. Mira doesn’t manage Ryder’s money. He has a business manager, an investment advisor and an accountant and a bunch of other people for that, and they’ve done a spectacular job of multiplying his fortune. The only thing Mira manages is his showbiz career.

Then I remember how she told me she would hurt Renni if I didn’t behave. Nobody can be allowed to make Ryder look bad, and that includes his “fiancée.” Not only that, she made it clear she’s done it before to keep women in line.

I look at Ryder. It seems unbelievable that he would ever allow Mira to go that far to protect his image. But to somebody like him, image is everything, isn’t it? As grating as Mira can be at times, it’s hard to imagine her doing all this without his knowledge.

And if he knows, but does nothing, that makes him complicit…doesn’t it?

“What is it?” Ryder asks, his tone overly modulated. There is a tight tension about him, like he’s expecting something to break any second.

I pull away from him. “Did you know Mira is managing a trust for you?”

He frowns. “No. I never heard anything like that.”

“Well, she is. It’s called The Reed Trust. And it invested in Bethany’s comic business.”

Still frowning. “That’s good, right?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

He starts to take a step forward, but something on my face stops him. “Paige, I don’t know anything about this trust. I thought Bethany had plans for the site but if she doesn’t…”

“She threatened to hurt Renni, you know.”

“Who?”

“Mira. She told me if I didn’t behave and make you look good, she would release some damaging information about Renni and her boyfriend.”

Ryder’s face starts to change. “Okay, hold on. When did this happen?”

“The day I came back to my job,” I say.

“She told you that herself?” Confirming the fact.

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“Because I can’t run to you every time I have a problem with someone who’s essentially a coworker.”

“But blackmail? That’s more than just ‘a problem’.”

“I thought maybe you knew. I didn’t think she would say stuff like that without your blessing.”

He jerks back like I’ve just slapped him. “You honestly thought I was capable of something like that?”

“Ryder…you have to understand. At the time I didn’t know how far you’d go to continue with the ceremony. You told me how much your grandfather’s painting means to you, and you were willing to claim a baby that isn’t your own to get it.”

He’s looking at me like I’m some kind of incomprehensible creature, and sweat slickens my spine. I have to make him understand. “Mira also told me she’s done it before. What was I supposed to think? At the time, you made it clear that without you, my baby and I would be without money or any kind of benefits.”

He runs his hands over his face. The gesture muffles a sigh. “We never had a chance, did we?” Resignation leeches all power from his tone. His shoulders slump, and he looks…defeated.

“What do you mean?”

“To you, I was always just a source of money and security for your baby. And maybe some fun in bed. But I was never somebody you could lean on. Never someone you would ever go to for help because I’m just…not that kind of person to you.”

Something in his tone frays my nerves. I feel like I’m about to fall apart like an old, moth-eaten sweater. “It’s not like that. Ryder, we were both under enormous pressure at the time. I just didn’t think it would be good for me to burden you with the news or try to create unnecessary friction.”

“Mira is my
agent
. You are my
fiancée
. Can you not see which one matters more?”

“I’m a fiancée you’re going to get rid of after one year. Mira will be with you forever. She managed your career since you started acting. She helped you become a big star.”

“
No!
” he shouts, flinging his arms out violently. “She would
not
have stayed with me, not if she disrespected you like that! Don’t you understand? Don’t you get anything?”

I shake my head, sudden dread filling my heart until I’m cold from the inside out. “What am I not getting? Help me understand.”

“
I’m in love with you!
”

The announcement is like a hammer falling from the sky. If he had told me that any other time, I would’ve been ecstatic, but this… I can’t even process what’s happening.

Red suffuses his face, and he’s breathing hard. “And all you can think about is our damn divorce to come in a year. After all this”—he digs his fingers into his hair—“I’m not even sure why you’re still with me, except maybe it’s that you need money a lot more than I thought you did.”

The words hit me one after another like bullets. I never knew until now how they can leave a person bleeding. “Ryder!”

He’s shaking his head. “No. I just… I can’t look at you right now.”

Something inside me crumbles but I know I have to stop him. I have to make him see that he’s mistaken. That I love him too.

But he’s already moving, his hands palms out. “I have to go…before I say something I’m really going to regret.”

Before I can stop him, he’s gone. The door closes with a bang, leaving me alone and shaken.

Ryder

By the time I park my Ferrari, my head has cleared a little. I look around and realize I’m in Elliot’s underground garage. How did I get here? It’s as though instinct has brought me to the one person who can maybe understand what I’m going through.

Then I reconsider. Elliot won’t understand anything. He’s never been in love.

But at least he’ll be good company. He’ll let me drink and won’t pester me with questions. And he certainly won’t look at me with that expression of horror and shock that came over Paige’s face when I told her I loved her.

It would’ve been a lot less painful if she’d just stabbed me with a knife. An electric, double-bladed carving knife. Serrated, like they use on turkeys at Thanksgiving.

Set on high.

Thankfully, Elliot is home when I buzz his unit on the top floor. He looks like shit though. His hair is sticking up everywhere, and he has a least two days’ growth of beard. He’s in a white undershirt and pale gray shorts.

“What are you doing here?” He rubs sleep from bleary eyes. “What time is it?”

He stands aside so I can walk in. At least the penthouse is clean. Stacks of magazines lie neatly in a rustic basket, one he brought back from Tuscany a couple years ago. The glass tabletop is dust-free, the white couches are spotless, and the hardwood floor has a fresh coat of wax. There’s even a vase full of fresh daisies on the dining table.

Not that any of it is due to him, of course. Elliot is a complete pig who couldn’t figure out how to turn on a vacuum cleaner if you taped the switch to a stripper’s nipple. His housekeeper comes by four times a week to keep the place neat. Otherwise the government would seize it for health code violations.

“It’s late morning.” I check my watch. “Actually, it’s noon.”

He yawns, his jaw cracking. “Yeah. Early. I didn’t come home until six.”

“You still hitting the strip clubs?” I sit down on a couch and try to stretch out. My neck and lower back are tight, and it’s not from working out.

“Yup.” Elliot sprawls in an armchair.

“So what’s taking so long? Is there a bimbo embargo or something? Just pick one and marry her.”