A Hollywood Deal (Billionaires' Brides of Convenience #1)

by Nadia Lee

  She grins and raises her hands, palms out. “That’s the really cool part. I never got a chance to do the Kickstarter! I got funded before we even began the campaign.”

  “How?”

  “Some angel investor through some LLC. He said he’s interested in art, and he likes my webcomic site and what I’ve been doing, and he’d love to see me expand. The cool thing is, he really knows a lot about running a business and who to hire and all that. So it’s an incredible opportunity for me.”

  Bethany has big plans for her webcomic site. Currently it only showcases her comics, and she’s grown a huge following with witty and sharp content. She also had a bit of help two years ago when Ryder mentioned the site in an interview, but I still think it was mostly her. If she didn’t have good content, she wouldn’t have been able to capitalize on the publicity to build her audience.

  Last year she put out a “best of the year” collection in a fancy glossy hardcover edition, she sold out within a week and made a hefty profit. I could not be more proud of her.

  She doesn’t want to end it there, though. She wants to start featuring other artists and help them get discovered as well, start selling advertising and subscriptions so she can pay them decent money for their work and so on.

  I reach over and squeeze her hand. It’s either that or squeal with glee, and I don’t want to draw too much attention to myself in public. “I’m so thrilled for you!” I scream-whisper. “My gosh, I wish you weren’t pregnant so we could celebrate in style.”

  “After the baby.” She beams. “I don’t want to jinx it or anything, but I think this year’s going to be my year, you know? The baby and the site. I feel like I’m at the top of my game.”

  “You are.”

  Our server comes by to check on us. I order a bottle of White Jasmine Sparkling Tea since it’s the closest thing to bubbly.

  We clink our glasses and sip the lovely fermented drink. My phone buzzes just then, and I check it. It’s a message from Craig Richmond’s office. I totally forgot about the lawyer. We already went over the prenup, and he’s pissy about the alimony. He thinks Ryder’s offering too little—the amount should be at least twenty mil.

  Jeez. But I suppose it’s his job to grab every penny for his client.

  I still haven’t decided about the alimony yet. To be absolutely honest I’ve been trying not to dwell on that…or the volcanic orgasm in Samantha’s office.

  Bethany has a second glass of the sparkling tea, and I decide to ask her opinion. She’s one of the smartest people I know.

  “Would you ever…” I stop for a moment.

  “Would I ever what?”

  Clearing my throat, I reach for my drink to wet my suddenly dry throat. The bubbly goes down smoothly. “This is hypothetical, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Would you choose money over se—I mean a man?”

  She gives me a look. “You mean a career over love?”

  “Something like that.”

  She thinks for a moment. “I guess it would depend on the circumstances. How much money are we talking about and who’s the guy?”

  “Um. More money than you could ever spend, and let’s say he’s the hottest guy you’ve ever met.”

  “If all there is to him is that he’s hot, I’d choose the money.” Bethany rests her chin in a hand. “But at the same time, I might be tempted to choose differently if it was a guy I might, you know, wonder about for the rest of my life. Most people have one of those.”

  “Do you?”

  She nods. “Donald Left from high school. You remember him, don’t you?”

  “Yeah.” He wasn’t in any of my classes, but I knew him by reputation. Supposedly a really nice guy. Played football. Smart. Worked hard.

  “After we graduated,” Bethany continues, “he told me he loved me and asked me to marry him.”

  I gasp. “You never told me!”

  “Well, you know. It wasn’t really share-worthy.”

  “So what happened? I mean, obviously you turned him down.”

  She laughs. “Obviously. The thing was, if I’d married him, I’d’ve been stuck in Sweet Hope forever. He was set to inherit that brewery his dad ran, and I wanted to go to L.A. and do my art and stuff. So in my case, it was a dream versus maybe the love of my life.”

  “Do you regret it?”

  “Hmm.” She dips a fry into ketchup. “Not really regret, exactly. But I do wonder sometimes. You know, how my life would’ve turned out if I’d said yes. This was before I met Oliver, of course.”

  “Huh. Have you looked him up to see how he’s doing?”

  “We ran into each other last time I visited Mom and Dad. He’s quite happily married with two kids—four and six.”

  “He didn’t waste much time pining for his high school love,” I joke.

  She laughs. “Nope. Too practical. Thankfully I have Oliver, who I love to pieces, but if I didn’t and wanted to pick things up again with Donald, it’d be too late.” She shrugs. “But that’s how life is. Opportunities don’t wait, and they don’t always come back. I chose my dream because that’s what mattered the most when I had to make my decision. So I’d say that in your hypothetical situation, the person should choose what’s most important.”

  I stay quiet as I process what she just told me. Money—even a huge amount of money—isn’t particularly important to me. Maybe it’s a reflection of my background, but I don’t need much to be comfortable, and being rich has never been an objective.

  But Ryder…

  If I’m honest with myself, I know where my hesitation is coming from. It’s the fear that what he’s offering is going to turn into something heart-felt and real on my part…while it remains just a physical act for him. I mean, the guy sees more ass than a proctologist. His reputation may be exaggerated in some cases, but not when it comes to women and relationships.

  I don’t have any delusion that I’m going to be the one to change him. It’s a fun fantasy, but I know how people are. They don’t really change, not at the core. That’s why sociopaths don’t feel any remorse, Ryder’s cousin Elizabeth can’t rest until every child is fed and happy, and Bethany is trying to use her art to bring joy to people.

  I’d most likely regret taking the money for the rest of my life. Even if it is to protect my heart, I’d regret it anyway because I’ve already tasted how sweet his other offer is.

  After we finish our lunch, Bethany and I hug each other good-bye and agree that we have to meet for another lunch or two. She makes me promise to call her if I need help with the planning. “Even if you have an army of people, sometimes you just need your family there for you,” she says.

  “I will.”

  “Love you.” She gives me another hug, and I watch her walk off. She pulls out her phone before turning the corner.

  My phone pings a moment later.

  I think you’ll choose what’s in your heart. Money never meant much to you. Regardless, I’m always on your side.

  I can’t help but smile. She’s too smart to think that my hypothetical scenario was really hypothetical. I text back, Ditto.

  Then I text Craig The Lawyer about our meeting while making my way to the hotel to get my car. I can’t possibly tell him the truth either, so I should ask him to change the amount to ten million after two years of marriage, not one.

  On the other hand, he’s a shark. So he’s probably going to balk at the amount of money staying the same while the duration doubles. Maybe fifteen mil would be better. It doesn’t matter what the dollar figure is, so long as the intent is clear.

  As I finish my text and put the phone in my purse, somebody grabs my arm. “You bitch. You think you can just avoid me?”

  I blink in shock. Shaun. His hold on me isn’t gentle, but it isn’t rough either.

  He hasn’t changed much in the last few weeks. He’s got that scruffy dark look that fits the leading man image, and he’s tall and lean from regular weightlifting. But his eyes never held much warmth
, and there’s a stiffness about him that says he’s trying too hard to live up to an image of who he thinks he should be. As usual, he wears a designer shirt in a muted green and the matching cargo shorts. His thick wrist sports an Omega watch, which he received as a gift when he got himself injured on a set doing a stunt once.

  I jerk my arm away, and he takes in a couple of deep breaths—his attempt at calming down. A dark flush marks his cheeks.

  “I called and texted. Why didn’t you answer?” His tone is more modulated now, though he can’t hide the resentment and anger simmering underneath.

  “I’ve been busy. And I thought we weren’t going to talk to each other after that scene. You made it very clear I was beneath you because I’m ‘too fucking fat to fuck.’ Your words, not mine.” I smile thinly.

  “Because you made me angry. You said some stuff about me too.”

  “Only after you got nasty with me.” I couldn’t resist a dig at the size of his equipment and how poorly he uses it after he attacked me like that.

  He waves it away. “That’s not important. What’s important is I had no choice but to put things in perspective for you.”

  I cross my arms. Such bullshit. “If you want to talk to me, go through Ryder’s publicist. I’m not talking to you anymore.”

  “Don’t be like that. You owe me one.”

  I raise my eyebrows. I owe him one?

  “I told you I needed to talk to Ryder about my script. You kept saying no, but now that you’re his fiancée, it doesn’t matter, right? It’s not like you’re gonna get fired.”

  My skull seems to shrink around my brain, creating a painful pressure. I thought Shaun had given up when I turned him down. The movie script he showed me was awful, even though I couldn’t bring myself to tell him so. But he’s convinced that it’s the Great American Movie that can make all previous blockbusters look like phony bullshit. And all he needs to do is convince Ryder to make it with him. Of course since Ryder’s the bigger star, Shaun will “settle” for the part of kickass best friend of the hero, but the movie is supposed to make both of them superstars.

  Apparently, Shaun hadn’t gotten the memo that Ryder’s already a superstar.

  “Shaun, I told you to talk to his team, not me,” I say.

  “You will do this. Show it to Ryder himself, or I’m going to make you sorry. I have stuff on you that can make you look bad. It’s my destiny to become a star, and I don’t care how it happens. Doing it with your help is the easy way. And believe me, both of us would rather that I not have to do it the hard way. Because if I do, it’s going to hurt you more than it hurts me.”

  “I’m not making you do anything. I don’t have a gun to your head, do I?” I need to get out of here. Life’s too short to waste on someone like him. Besides, he has nothing on me. I’m not one of those women who send their boyfriends nude selfies. My worst flaw might be that I can be a slob and I eat too much ice cream when I’m upset. I might possibly snore too. “I have to go.”

  “No, you don’t!” He grabs me again.

  A tingle of fear shivers through me. It’s broad daylight, we’re on a sidewalk, and it’s unlikely that Shaun’s going to do anything serious. At the same time, he’s never grabbed me like this in public, and there’s a new hint of anger and manic zeal in his gaze. Then there’s the paparazzi. I don’t want them taking photos of us and concocting some bullshit story.

  “Let me go, or I’m calling the cops.” I keep my voice firm and strong. I’d prefer not to, but I will if I have to.

  “Is this man bothering you, miss?” comes a soft voice that reminds me of a starless night.

  “Fuck off. It’s none of your business,” Shaun says at the same time I say, “Yes.”

  “You heard the lady. Why don’t you fuck off instead? Unless you’d like your legs broken.”

  Shaun finally glances at the man, and they have one of those testosterone stare-downs. Whatever Shaun sees in the other man’s gaze makes him snarl a cuss word and stomp away.

  I let out a breath. “Thank you.”

  My savior is tall, with neatly trimmed dark hair. He’s young, probably no more than thirty, and his cool green eyes assess me. He’s in an impeccable pale blue dress shirt and black slacks, with shoes that gleam in the LA sunshine.

  “You’re welcome.” His expression warms, and he looks around. “Things sure change a lot when you’re not in town.”

  “I guess so,” I answer vaguely, not sure what he’s talking about. Then I notice another man behind him. It’s TJ, the bouncer from Z. I almost didn’t recognize him. Unlike at the popular club, he’s in a dark suit and wrap-around shades cover his face, but nothing can hide the thick lines of muscle. I’m quite certain he is carrying as well, even though his jacket is too well tailored to show it. What’s he doing, standing like an oak by my savior?

  “You’re the infamous Paige Johnson,” the man says. “Ryder’s bride, right?”

  I flush. “I see you’ve read the papers.”

  “I try to keep up. He’s a good friend of mine.”

  “I see.” I smile, happy to meet Ryder’s friend, even though a part of me is embarrassed and rattled that he saw me in a scene with Shaun. I shake myself. The situation wasn’t my fault. I have nothing to feel bad about. “Are you coming to the engagement party this weekend?”

  “I’m afraid I didn’t get an invitation. I don’t think Ryder knows I’m in town, and I haven’t been able to get in touch with him. His number’s changed. I should probably just drop by his place sometime soon and say hello.”

  Ryder changes phones like most people change their underwear, and the handful of people who have his current number would never reveal it to anyone. “That won’t do. What’s your name?”

  “Anthony Blackwood.”

  He hands me a business card. It has the Z logo on it, and underneath is the word Owner. “Wait. You’re the mysterious owner of Z?”

  He laughs. “The one and only, although I can’t claim to be that mysterious. The club’s ownership has never been a secret.”

  Except nobody’s ever seen him or anything. “It’s one of my favorite clubs,” I gush. “How come you’re never around?”

  “As I said, I’ve been out of town. For the past three years or so at least.” He smiles. “I can’t even remember anymore. At any rate, we’ll have to make sure you get in for free next time at Z.” He glances at TJ, who nods once.

  “Awesome. I’ll definitely make sure you’re on the guest list.” I put the card in my purse. “I’m sure Ryder would love to catch up with an old friend.”

  “As would I. Thank you, Paige.”

  TJ holds open the door to the restaurant for Anthony. Before following him in, TJ gives me a brief nod, and I wave. He’s a long-time bouncer at the club and we know each other a bit. Apparently he’s also Anthony’s personal bodyguard when he’s in town.

  The door closes. I drop my hand.

  Despite the fact that Anthony helped me out, I feel a little shadow has been cast over the day. Something about the man tells me he’s the last person you’d want as an enemy…and that just because he smiles at you, doesn’t mean he actually likes you.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Ryder

  I stare at the thick, fancy white folder on my desk. I don’t know why the wedding planner wants to talk to me. Again. I know it’s not to hit on me. I hired Nancy Yost because she’s damn good at her job and a grandmother three times over.

  “It’s nice, but I honestly don’t care. Just as long as Paige’s happy,” I say.

  “If so, you would’ve gone for a small, modest wedding, which is what she told me she wanted,” the planner says. “If we want a cake like this, we need to order now.”

  The photo she’s gesturing at shows an intricate tiered tower with Rococo-style decorations and winding stairs. It looked more like a miniature cathedral than a cake.

  “It’s four feet tall,” she continues. “I think it’s just the thing, don’t you?”

>   “If the frosting is pink or something that Paige likes.”

  “Of course I’ll make sure the color is what she likes.”

  “Then do it.” I wave her away when a text arrives on my phone. It’s from Samantha. “Don’t bother me with details. I told you it has to be the grandest thing people have seen.”

  “I have only a month! Not even that much time now.”

  “That’s why you make the big bucks.” I give her my most charming smile. Amazingly, it doesn’t really work.

  Her thin mouth tight, she leaves. Well, three grandsons have probably eroded her susceptibility to charming smiles.

  I check the text.

  Your fiancée and her lawyer agree to everything, except the alimony clause. Want to change it to 20 mil after two years of marriage. I don’t like it.

  I read it again just to make sure.

  It’s fine. Give them what they want, I text back.

  A slow smile spreads on my face as hot relief boils my blood. I wasn’t sure which way Paige was leaning. Normally I would’ve pressed my advantage…but then I made the tactical error of hiring Josephine, who’s running her ragged. I know it’s a necessary step—nobody will be able to mock her for not being fashionable enough—but it’s still annoying because I can’t bring myself to seduce her when she looks like she’s about to fall over dead. Which she does, every time she comes home.

  I get up, stretching my arms above my head. All my irritations vanish as I anticipate having Paige shaking in climax in my arms again. Today, I think triumphantly.

  Hmm… Should it be before or after the surprise?

  Before. I can always do it again afterwards if she seems too tense. On the other hand, I don’t know how much longer she’s going to be out shopping. There can’t be that much left to do. It’s already Thursday.

  I grin. I can’t wait to see the expression on Paige’s face when she realizes I’ve sent my private jet to Sweet Hope to fly her parents back and arranged for a car to pick up her sister and her husband for a surprise dinner tomorrow night.