Stalking the Billionaire Celebrity (Sweet Bay Billionaires Book 2)

by Rachel Taylor

  I wanted nothing to do with that. I didn’t want to air anyone’s dirty laundry for the whole world to see, and I certainly didn’t want to make up lies about celebrities just to earn a buck and get my name in a tabloid. They were real people, and they deserved to be treated with dignity and kindness. Everyone did.

  I did a lot of soul searching that weekend, and on Monday I headed into the newspaper office to turn in my resignation. I didn’t know what I was going to do, but I couldn’t write bad things about people for a living.

  Mr. Elliot caught me as soon as I walked in the doors. “Cara, just the person I wanted to talk to. Can I see you in my office?”

  My heart dropped into my stomach since the last time he’d wanted to see me he’d lambasted me. It didn’t matter; I wouldn’t be working for him for much longer. But my heart couldn’t handle any more pain, it was already as limp and ragged as a sodden newspaper.

  I followed him into his office and closed the door behind me. I could already feel the eyes of my coworkers staring at me through the glass walls. Before he had a chance to tear into me, I held out the letter of resignation I’d written.

  “Is this your article about the Harbor Festival?” He took it and glanced at.

  “No, sir.”

  He read the first few lines then looked up at me. “You’re quitting?”

  “Yes, sir.” I dropped my head and tightened my muscles, preparing for whatever he had to say. My body quivered with anxiety. Would he make it obvious he was glad to get rid of me, or would he complain that I was leaving? Either way, I knew he wouldn’t go easy on me.

  He sighed and shook his head then crumbled up the letter and tossed it towards the trash can. “I won’t accept this. You owe me an article on the Harbor Festival.”

  Anger boiled up in me at his blatant disregard. “What? The writing’s not good enough? It was too polite? Not scandalous enough for you? I don’t care what you think, Mr. Elliot. I quit!”

  I turned and stomped towards the door, but his words stopped me. “You can’t quit because you’re my best reporter.”

  I whirled around to look at him. He sighed, and his mustache twitched in a hint of a smile. “Cara, I owe you an apology. I tore into you for writing such a glowing article about the resort and Calvin Montgomery, but it turns out, it was one of the most provocative we’ve ever ran. I got more calls and emails about that article than any other. Some people loved it and said it changed their opinion about the resort, and others called to complain, but either way, it got them talking about the newspaper and reading it. We saw a 5% subscription increase the next day.”

  My eyes fluttered wide in surprise, and I put a hand up to hide my wide smile. “Really? Wow.”

  “I’d like you to write an article on Beau Bennett. Everyone’s been blabbering on about him being here. You’ve probably got an in with Montgomery after that article. Think you can get him to set up an interview for you?”

  At the first mention of Beau’s name, my heart seized up, and I automatically wanted to reject the assignment, but then I had an idea, a way to try to make up for what I’d done to him. “Can I write anything I want, sir?”

  Mr. Elliot winced, and he rubbed his bald head. “I trust you on this, Cara. But it better be something that gets people talking.”

  “No problem, sir.” I smiled and turned to leave, but I stopped at the door and looked back at him. “I’ll have that article on the Harbor Festival for you by the end of the day, sir, and it’ll be rife with controversy.”

  He smirked at me and shook his head. I hurried out, eager to get started.

  I spent the next two days writing furiously, pouring my heart and soul into the article about Beau. I turned in my article to Mr. Elliot, and he printed it right away. For the first time, my name was on the front page of the newspaper.

  I had no idea if Beau would even find out about the article since Sweet Bay was such a little town. Our newspaper didn’t exactly have a very wide audience. But I wasn’t worried about spilling his secret.

  He’d returned to Hollywood, saying that the story about him going to rehab wasn’t true. He claimed he was sick with the flu and out of his mind with fever the day he had a meltdown in public. No one was buying it, especially since he was photographed the next day, partying till he passed out at a Hollywood nightclub.

  It killed me to see him fall back into that. I could tell he was hurting, and I let all the blame fall heavy on my shoulders. I couldn’t change what I’d done, but maybe the article would help some, if he read it.

  The day after the story ran, Mr. Elliot gave me a raise and a promotion and praised me in front of the entire newsroom. My article on Beau was all anyone in Sweet Bay could talk about. Then he demanded another article but told me I could write about whatever I wanted. It wasn’t the high-profile celebrity journalism job I’d dreamed of, but my dreams had changed, and I was happy to be doing what I loved with the freedom to do it the way I thought was best.

  I texted my girlfriends to see if they were free to celebrate with me. They were always up for a get-together, and they were excited to hear the news I kept purposely vague. They all agreed to meet me at the diner for lunch.

  I drove my scooter to the diner, memories of Beau’s body wrapped around me still taunting me. Would I ever find anyone who made me feel the way he did? I’d known all the guys in Sweet Bay my whole life, and none of them could hold a candle to a gorgeous, super rich celebrity. It was hardly fair to expect them to. It would be a long time before I got over Beau, anyway. If I ever did.

  Thankfully, Lindsey and Tessa were already there when I arrived, so I didn’t have to sit alone and risk being approached by a bunch of people who would have things to say about my article. I plopped down in one of the shiny, red, vinyl and chrome chairs next to Lindsey who’s mouth curled up in a Cheshire grin around her straw.

  “So, are you gonna tell your best friend what this exciting news is, or are you gonna make me wait to hear it with the others?”

  I didn’t have a chance to answer her before Mandie and Leanne swept into the diner with their kids like a twin tornados. The kids immediately raced for the blinking, beeping arcade games in the corner, and Mandie and Leanne both sighed as they slumped into chairs beside us.

  “How much longer till school starts?” Leanne whined.

  “Way too long,” Mandie scowled.

  The waiter came over and took our orders. We all knew the menu by heart, so nobody needed time to look at it. As soon as he walked away, Mandie slapped her hands on the table and grinned at me. “Okay, missy. Spill it. What’s the big news? Is it Beau? Did you two make up and get back together? When’s the wedding?”

  Tessa glared at her. “Hush, Mandie! Don’t ruin her moment. Let her tell!”

  Tessa and the others all turned to stare at me with eager smiles and twinkling eyes. I bit my lip and fiddled with my napkin, unwrapping my silverware and setting it on the side of my placemat even though I’d ordered a burger and fries that I’d eat with my hands. After Mandie’s comments, I was worried they’d be disappointed that my news wasn’t more titillating.

  “Oh, come on, girl! Just say it!” Mandie groaned.

  “It’s not about Beau,” I blurted out. As predicted, their animated faces drooped a little. “Mr. Elliot gave me a raise and a promotion. That means more freedom to write what I want for the paper.”

  “But what about Beau? Did he read your article? Did he call you?” Leanne leaned forward eagerly.

  I stared at the retro design on my paper placemat. “No, I haven’t heard from him. He probably hasn’t seen the article. I doubt he follows the Sweet Bay news.” I thought about sending it to him, but I didn’t have the nerve. Every time I thought about it, I imagined him tearing up the envelope as soon as he saw my name on it.

  Lindsey scowled and grabbed me by the shoulders, shaking me. “Hey, forget about Beau. Let’s talk about this promotion. That’s so great, Cara!”

  The others took the hint and congr
atulated me, telling me how proud they were and how great the article was. I forced Beau out of my mind and focused on enjoying the moment. Of course, the topic swung back to Beau eventually since he was the subject of the article, but the discussion centered around what I’d written and not the possibility of a relationship between us.

  “So, are you going to submit that article to one of the tabloids?” Tessa asked.

  “No, I don’t think so. That’s not the kind of thing they’re looking for. They want scandalous stories about celebrity indiscretions, not feel-good pieces.”

  “But people loved that article. Everybody is talking about it. You made the whole town fall in love with Beau Bennett, like he needed the help. He’s so hot!” Leanne winked and waved a hand in front of her face, pretending to cool herself.

  “You know, I bet lots of people would like to read those kinds of articles. If the tabloids won’t print them, maybe you should start a blog or something,” Lindsey suggested.

  The waiter brought our food, giving me a minute to contemplate what she’d said. I stared at my hamburger and fries, thinking about how the simple meal that was once only served in local diners had become one of the most popular in the country. Why couldn’t a different kind of celebrity news gain popularity the same way? I couldn’t print my own tabloid, but physical papers were on their way out anyway, in favor of online news. And anybody could put something on the internet.

  I had to admit, part of it was selfish. I wanted Beau to read my article and hear what I had to say about him. I doubted he’d take a call from me or pick up a copy of the Sweet Bay Sun. But if I put up my article on the internet and it drew enough interest, he was bound to run across it.

  I zoned out for the rest of the meal, completely oblivious to the conversation buzzing around me. Too many thoughts were competing for attention in my own head. Eventually, the waiter came by with a styrofoam takeout container and asked me if I wanted him to box up my barely-touched food. His question made everyone turn and look at me. I forced my attention back to the real world.

  Lindsey gave me a worried look. “What’s up with you, Cara? Is everything okay? I thought you were excited about your promotion.”

  The promotion was nice, and the raise would certainly help, but writing articles for the Sweet Bay newspaper didn’t satisfy the dreams I had, even if it paid the bills. I still wanted to write about the celebrities that fascinated me and make a bigger name for myself. Could I do it without hurting anyone?

  “I’m great, just thinking. I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you guys later.”

  I jumped up, grabbed the to-go box from the waiter’s hand, and darted out to my scooter before anyone had a chance to ask any more questions. My dreams demanded my attention.

  Chapter 17

  Beau

  “You’re at the coolest party of the year, surrounded by the biggest names in Hollywood, and you’re sucking on a thousand dollar bottle of Scotch like it’s a bottle of soda. Why do you look so miserable?”

  Tamara sat down right next to me on the sofa long enough to seat a dozen people and put her hand on my thigh and her head on my shoulder. When I turned my head to look at her, I could see down the front of her slinky, silver dress. She struck a pose for anyone who might be taking pictures, crossing one taut, tanned leg over the other one, which hiked up her skirt. Cameras flashed around us.

  Even this close, I couldn’t see the pores in her skin, she had such a thick layer of makeup caked on. She batted her long, fake eyelashes and tossed her hair that was curled and sprayed into a stiff mass. Even her contacts changed her eyes to an unnaturally bright shade of green. She looked gorgeous, but she also looked like a mannequin, fake and plastic.

  Looking at her, my mind superimposed another image. A fresh-faced girl with apple green eyes, creamy skin, and shiny, strawberry hair in soft waves that flowed through my fingers. My hands twitched, remembering the sensation of undoing her braid.

  “Are you lonely? I can keep you company,” Tamara purred into my ear so I could hear her over the loud music, her bright red lips curling.

  “I thought you and AJ were back together.”

  She stroked my chest with one hand and ran the other through my hair, making me flinch. “We are, but you have to give the tabloids something if you want to keep your name in the headlines. AJ knows it’s all for show.”

  I jumped up, disgusted by her and the idea that anyone might think I was involved with her when she was supposedly dating AJ. I hated the pretense. This wasn’t a movie, we weren’t playing a role. Was everyone a fraud?

  I couldn’t help but think of Cara again. When I was with her, she seemed so real. I loved the fact that she didn’t try to impress me or anyone else. I still couldn’t believe it had all been a lie. How had I been so easily fooled by her? She didn’t just trick me, she made me fall for her.

  “I’m not interested in playing a part in your drama, Tamara.” I stalked off, ready to get out of there. I wasn’t having any fun, anyway. I was in too lousy of a mood. Even the alcohol that normally made me forget my woes was only making me feel guilty. I’d briefly entertained the idea of something stronger, but I knew drugs would only make things worse in the long run.

  I pushed through the crowd, heading for the exit, but AJ cornered me. I expected him to grouse about me hitting on Tamara, but instead, he said, “Beau, if you’re trying to play the good guy role, what are you doing here?”

  His words confused me. I hadn’t told anybody I wanted to change my reputation. Obviously, I wasn’t off to a very good start. “What are you talking about?”

  “Doesn’t your manager want you to clean up your act? Isn’t that why you got that reporter to do that tell-all article on you?”

  Anxiety rippled through my body. “What article?”

  “Let me see if I can find it.” He pulled out his phone and tapped at the screen for a moment. Then he turned it towards me.

  I grabbed the phone and squinted to bring the small print into focus. I’d had a little too much Scotch to be reading, but I could make out the name of the website — Good Vibes. The title of the article was, “The Real Beau Bennett — an Up Close and Personal Exposé” — by Cara Lawson.

  I squeezed the phone in my hand almost hard enough to crack it, then I shoved it back towards AJ. I wanted to read it, but I knew I shouldn’t do it there. I’d probably get mad and throw a fit that would end up all over the tabloids tomorrow. I was already steaming. “Send that to me, will ya?”

  He nodded as I stomped away, pushing through the churning crowd and out into the cool, night air. It calmed me enough to keep me from exploding. My driver waited for me outside. Dave insisted on it whenever I went to a party, trying to keep me from getting arrested for drunk driving. I got in the car and slammed the door, wishing I could drive so I could blow off some rage. I wanted to rev the engine and blaze down the highway at 90 miles an hour.

  I pulled out my phone and tried to look up the website AJ had showed me, but the movement of the car made me nauseous. I gave up and tossed the phone aside then pressed my fevered cheek to the cool window. My mind conjured up possibilities about what the article might say. None of them were good.

  When I got home, I chugged a glass of orange juice then poured a big mug of coffee as I stripped out of my designer clothes, leaving a trail to the bedroom. When I got there, I pulled my favorite ratty pjs out of the drawer and slipped them on, instantly relaxing.

  I set my coffee on the nightstand and grabbed a tablet then threw myself onto the bed. AJ had texted me the website, so I didn’t have to search for it. It was a lot easier to read on the larger screen. Or maybe it was the fact that I wasn’t in a dark room pulsing with party lights, loud music, and a crowd of people. I settled in and read what Cara had to say about me.

  Ten minutes later, my cheeks were wet with hot tears, and my nose was drippy. I sniffed and swiped at my eyes with the back of my hand then gave in and grabbed a handful of tissues to clean myself up. I tossed the ta
blet aside, overcome with emotion.

  Cara had actually fessed up to lying her way into my hotel room, admitting her offense to the whole world, which took a heck of a lot of guts. But then she said the decision, while regrettable, had changed her life and her opinion about celebrities.

  She spilled everything that happened the week I was in Sweet Bay. She told how I had admitted to her my fear of flying because of my parents’ death and how the anxiety I felt had led me to have a panic attack that day. I wasn’t proud to have the truth revealed and my story about the flu contradicted, but the way she wrote it was so tender, so touching, I knew the whole world would sympathize with me.

  She went on to talk about how I’d risked my privacy by visiting a little girl in the hospital, and she included quotes from Mallory that made my chest ache. She left out the part about me bribing the witnesses to stay quiet about my visit but said that I’d been moved to donate a million dollars to the pediatric department at the hospital. I hadn’t done it for show, I hadn’t meant for anyone outside of Sweet Bay to know about it, but now that they did, I was sure it would earn me some major brownie points.

  Cara also talked about my personality, how I wasn’t the conceited party boy everyone thought I was. Instead, she called me kind, funny, humble, and friendly. She told how I’d been willing to ride around on her little scooter instead of one of my luxury cars, how I’d given my time to help set up games for the festival, and how I gone out with her friends and graciously let them make fun of me for my terrible bowling skills. The anecdote was a little embarrassing, but I knew that readers would love it. It made me sound like a fun, down to earth guy instead of a pretentious billionaire.

  At the end, she talked about how Hollywood had given me and probably every celebrity a bad rap without taking the time to learn the truth about us and who we really were. She admitted that she’d wanted to be a tabloid reporter her whole life, but her week with me had changed her mind, and now she had a different goal. She wanted to report the good stories about celebrities that tabloids never printed, and she wanted other writers to submit articles that she could feature on her site.