A Hollywood Bride (Billionaires' Brides of Convenience Book 2) (7 page)

“Huh. Must’ve been an error, then,” Derek says. He sniffs. “Well, I’m disappointed about not getting that interview. Not gonna lie. But I’m happy for you that the wedding’s going to happen as planned. Calling it off now would look bad, especially for the bride.”

“Of course,” I rasp.

“Maybe in another month or two?”

I nod, then remember that I’m on the phone. “Yeah. Sure.”

I hang up and shove the phone back into my pocket. When Ryder came home drunk last night, I assumed he went out drinking with Elliot to blow off steam. The notion that he went someplace racier than your average bar never crossed my mind. The core issue between us has been his inability to trust that I’m not like Lauren. I trusted that he would keep his word to me—that he wouldn’t do anything to humiliate me. I guess my trust was misplaced, or else he has an odd definition of “humiliation.”

Unable to sit still, I walk home. My mind churns with thoughts, and my heart is full of conflicting emotions. But I have to talk to Ryder now. I don’t think I can function without that first.

When I walk in, Sue is coming downstairs with a black trash bag. “Are you all right?” she asks. “You look a little flushed.”

“I’m fine,” I say quickly. I must look horrible for her to remark on it. But then she usually sees me all made up and everything. “Have you seen Ryder?”

“He just went to his office.”

“Thanks.” I walk up to the second floor.

His office is past the assistant’s—the one I used to work out of until a few days ago.

Ryder’s workspace isn’t exactly “corporate”. It’s a big area with lots of comfortable loungers and low tables that he can place drinks on. Instead of books, he has photos of places he’s been on built-in shelves. There’s also a fascinating bit of art on one wall: a nearly empty canvas with just a few black lines and lots of white space, done by a Korean artist. He paid some insane amount of money for it at an auction, calling it “beautiful emptiness.” I’m not sure if that’s actually the title of the piece or not.

He’s on a barcalounger, drinking another coffee. A stack of paper rests on his lap, and from the looks of it, he’s perusing another script. He glances my way. “Thought you went out for a walk.”

I close the door behind me. “I’m done now.” I take a love seat and cross my legs.

Setting aside the script, he sits up straight. His eyes are guarded. “You okay?”

“Is it true you went to a strip club with Elliot?”

Something flickers in his gaze, then he frowns. “Who told you that?”

“Does it matter?”

“Probably not.” He sighs. “Yes. Well, technically, I didn’t go
with
him. I met him at one because he was there and didn’t want to go anywhere else.”

“Am I supposed to believe that?”

“Of course you’re supposed to believe it. You think I’m lying?”

He’s meeting my gaze straight on. Normally I’d think the person was telling the truth. But this is Ryder, one of the best actors around.

“Look, Paige. I don’t care what you heard, but nothing happened. And you know I’d never talk about private stuff in front of a bunch of strippers.”

“How do I know you went there to talk?”

A dull red rises in his cheeks. “Are you telling me you don’t trust me? Especially after that stuff about how trust is more a decision than anything?”

A fist lodges in my throat, and I can barely breathe. It takes a moment before I can gather my thoughts enough to speak. “This isn’t about tit-for-tat, Ryder.”

“I never said it was. You’re the one who’s grilling me here over some gossip. You know how it is in Hollywood. Everyone puts the absolute worst spin on everything.”

It pains me that he doesn’t see how that’s true of me too, because of my association with him. But it’s obvious that he thinks I’m some kind of exception.

And the truth is I’m pretty certain he’s right. He can’t even smile at another woman without it becoming a big deal. But the fact that he won’t give me the same benefit of the doubt he’s asking for hurts. I can’t decide if I should scream or cry.

“Paige…”

I jump to my feet. “I can’t continue right now.”

Before he can stop me, I go to my room. I need to be somewhere quiet to process all this so I don’t do anything rash.

But when I open the door to my suite, a white-hot rage sears my entire body, leaving my skin raw and tight. For a moment I can’t think or even breathe. Then all the emotion gathers in my belly like a knot of angry snakes.

Gone are the blue hyacinths and white tulips. Instead, there are red, yellow and purple tulips in a different crystal vase on my bedside table.

The bouquet is just as large and beautiful as the one from Anthony. It probably cost just as much, if not more.

Ryder follows me in. Concern softens his voice. “Paige, look—”

“Did you do this?” I ask, my jaw tight.

“What?”

I gesture at the tulips. “Where are the hyacinths?”

Tense lines form on his forehead. “The housekeeper knocked the vase over when she came up here to clean your room.”

The fury in my gut explodes. “
Am I supposed to believe such a lame excuse?
” Something close to hysteria edges my voice, raising it until it’s shrill.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! Now what? Is there going to be another inquisition over some flowers?” His expression is no longer placid or concerned. It is one of pure justified outrage.

“If you’d just waited, I would’ve thrown them out myself. I decided to do that when I was out walking. But no—you had to take care of it yourself, didn’t you? You weren’t going to let me decide.” I reach into the closet and pull out a small suitcase. I open it and start tossing in some essentials—underwear, moisturizer and some changes of clothes.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Can’t you tell?”

The sound of his breathing rings harshly in the room. He rakes his hair, then glares at me. “Dammit, Paige. If you walk out now, it’s over.”

I zip the bag. Suddenly I’m drained and empty. Tears prickle at my eyes, but I hold them back. They won’t do a thing to fix the situation.

“No, Ryder,” I tell him, facing him with my hand around the suitcase handle. “It was over when you decided that I was the one who released the sex tape for fame and fortune.”

Paige

It takes me over an hour to reach my stepsister’s house. The traffic is atrocious, even for Los Angeles, and makes me contemplate moving to a mountain top somewhere in the Himalayas.

I ring the bell and wait. Bethany and Oliver have given me free run of the place, but I don’t like to walk in unannounced since they’re still rather passionate about each other. After a few moments the door opens wide and Bethany steps out. She’s in a bright sunflower-yellow t-shirt and faded denim capris. A yellow number two pencil skewers a messy brown bun on top of her head. It’s her “I’m home and comfy” look.

She notes my suitcase, and a concerned expression comes over her face. Instead of asking questions, she pulls me inside.

I walk into the homey living room. Oliver adjusts his glasses as he walks out of the kitchen. His gaze drops to the suitcase, and a frown appears. “What’s going on?”

I stand by the couch, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. “I know it’s sudden, but I need a place to stay for a while. Normally I’d go back to my apartment, but there are too many reporters.”

Bethany and Oliver exchange a quick look. She takes charge. After all, I’m her family. “Of course, you’re welcome to stay with us as long as you need. But… I thought you were getting married.”

“In less than three weeks. Is Ryder calling things off?” Disapproval pinches Oliver’s face.

“Not exactly,” I say. “But I guess they’re off now.” Ryder made that clear when he issued his ultimatum.

The silence in the room seems to suck all the air out, waiting and anticipating. I resist the urge to babble. The entire mess is just too embarrassing to share with my brother-in-law, even though he’s a sweetheart and I adore him.

Bethany comes over and hugs me tightly. “I’m so sorry, honey.”

Oliver pats my shoulder awkwardly. “Yeah, um… If you guys would like to talk privately…”

I shake my head. “It’s all right.”

Bethany puts a hand at the small of my back and leads me upstairs. “Let me show you to your room.”

They have three bedrooms. The biggest one is the master bedroom, and the smallest is a home office where Bethany does most of her web comic work. The medium-sized one is for overnight guests and has a double bed. Pale green sheets with an ivy pattern cover the mattress. The curtains are cool mint green against the light cream wall. Even though the room isn’t that large, it feels somewhat spacious because of the colors.

I set the suitcase at the foot of the bed and perch on the edge of the mattress. My knees shake, and fatigue settles all the way to my bones.

“Are you really all right?” Bethany asks, settling next to me.

“I’m fine. Just a little tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Not surprising. I saw the news. The baby, right?”

I nod. We didn’t talk about anything like that when we accompanied Mom and Simon to the airport, but Bethany would have to be deaf and blind not to hear about it.

“I wish you’d told me,” she says.

Blinking away the tears before she can notice them, I put my elbows on my knees and clasp my hands together. “I’d just found out when you made your announcement. I didn’t want to steal your thunder.”

“Oh, Paige. You know it’s not like that.”

“I know. But at the time I wasn’t sure what I was going to do, or what was going to happen… If I was going to be a single mom or…what. I didn’t want to say anything until I knew for certain.”

She sighs. “Ryder should do the right thing. It’s his baby, too.”

I press my lips together. I can’t tell Bethany what’s really going on. It’s not that I don’t trust her to be discreet. It’s just that I can’t let anybody know the entire truth behind the deal Ryder and I struck. Even if he made it clear what he thinks of me, I don’t want to be petty just to get back at him. Undoubtedly he’ll move on—there are thousands of eager women for him. It won’t take him long to find a woman who can play the role he wants.

Bethany squeezes my hand. “I’m glad you decided to crash at our place. There are pictures of us at the airport with Mom and Dad. It looks like everyone’s tracking your movements.”

The idea that people are watching me like that makes my skin crawl. I saw how bad it was for Ryder, but it’s one thing to watch it happen to someone else and another to experience it first-hand. “I’m really sorry. I’ll find a place soon. I don’t want you to lose your privacy because of me.”

She snorts. “Don’t even think about it. They’re welcome to watch me drive to the grocery store, the post office…and my gynecologist! I’m so boring, they’ll lose interest within a week.” She puts an arm around my shoulder. “No matter what, you have me and Oliver. And Mom and Dad, too. We love you and we won’t let anything happen to you, okay? So cheer up. I want to see you smile.”

Her unconditional love thaws the cold knot in my chest, and I manage a tiny smile.

“There you go.” She tightens her hold on me. “Have you had dinner yet? If not, Oliver made a killer quesadilla and guacamole…unless you can’t keep anything down?”

I shake my head. “No morning sickness. And I’m ravenous. I’ll join you.”

“We already ate, but I’ll set you a place and re-heat some of the food. Come on down whenever you’re ready.”

The wooden stairs creak under her steps. I inhale the mild detergent on the sheets and will myself to cheer up. Moping won’t solve anything, and I have to pull myself together. I’m going to need a new job and a place to stay ASAP.

But first things first. It’s time to eat and fortify myself. I won’t waste away like some distraught Victorian maid. Paige Johnson is made of sterner stuff.

So I get up and pull myself together. When I reach the dining room, one end of the rectangular table has a plate piled with quesadillas, a bowl of what looks like homemade guacamole and some salsa. At the other end is a stack of papers. Bethany is reading through them, a frown on her face.

Oliver hands me a glass of OJ, and I take my seat. His quesadillas are amazing, gooey with tons of cheese. I eat in silence for a few minutes, just savoring the food.

Finally, the edge comes off my hunger. “What’s that?” I gesture at the papers.

“The contract for that investment,” Bethany answers without looking up. She jots something down in a spiral notebook. “My web comic thing.”

“Any problems?” I ask. Her brows are pinched with more than just concentration.

“It’s just so…grabby. It’s like nothing I create would be my own anymore. Ditto for the other artists I want to showcase. I can’t have that. I need to talk to my lawyer about it.” She purses her mouth.

“Can’t you just walk away? You can just raise the capital you need through crowd funding.”

She shakes her head. “It isn’t that simple. I’ll owe them fifty thousand dollars in a break-up fee.”

My jaw slackens. “Oh my gosh.”

“It’s my fault. I should’ve read the initial agreement more carefully. I was so excited that I basically skimmed it.”

Oliver squeezes her shoulder. “It’s not your fault. Anybody in your position would’ve done the same.”

I nod. “What your wise husband said. I’m sure you’ll find a way to make it work. You’re too smart not to.”

“Thanks,” Bethany says. Her chin firms a bit. “And you’re right. I will.” She returns to the contract.

I munch on the food, watching my stepsister. No matter what she faces, I know she’ll find a way through. She’s the kind of person I’ve always wanted to be…but somehow can’t seem to manage to become.

Paige

The next day, the house is empty after breakfast. Oliver went to work, and Bethany went to see her lawyer.

I sit on the IKEA couch and tap my knees. Not having anything to do feels
really
weird. Normally, I’m on call even on weekends and have errands to run on Ryder’s behalf. Once we got engaged, I spent most of my time being dragged around by his personal shopper and fashion consultant. To have an entire day when I don’t have to be anywhere or deal with anybody? It feels like I stepped through a portal into some alternate universe.