by Nadia Lee
I pull her into my bed and wrap my arms around her. And I will the odd ache in my heart to go away.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Paige
Ryder’s gone from the bed by the time I open my eyes. It’s not even seven. What is he doing up so early?
My clothes from last night are on a chair by the bed rather than on the floor. Since I highly doubt housekeeping came by while we were sleeping, I know it was him.
I should get up, but I’m not in the mood. My body’s loose and relaxed, and the flesh between my legs tingles. Despite the languorous physical sensations, though, I can’t help but feel that something’s very wrong. It’s the way Ryder keeps holding out on me. If he hasn’t told me everything about Lauren, fine. It’s clearly not a pretty memory, so I can see why he doesn’t want to relive it. But after sex, he grew distant. It wasn’t anything overt, but I’d have to be the most oblivious person ever not to have noticed.
A knock at the door, and I pull the sheet up to my neck. One of the maids comes in with a tray of breakfast.
“Ryder asked me to bring this. He thought you’d be hungry and tired.”
“Thank you.” The unexpected gesture surprises me. “Is he going to join me?”
“I don’t think so. He’s eaten already.”
“Where is he?”
“He went out for a walk about half an hour ago and hasn’t returned yet.”
I nod in acknowledgment, and she leaves.
Ryder sent a cheese egg omelet and a bowl of fresh fruit plus a couple pieces of toast and ginger tea. I take a sip of the tea. I can’t remember the last time I had breakfast in bed, and it is sinfully luxurious…even though I have to be careful not to leave any crumbs on the pristine sheets. As far as I know, housekeeping changes them every day, but still…
Then a thought strikes me. Has he ever brought another woman to this bed?
He seems to prefer hotels for the humped and dumped, but he’s got to have had at least one genuine relationship before, even if the media doesn’t talk about it. Did he bring someone here? Did he—
“Argh!”
I smack myself in the forehead. This is the most unproductive train of inquiry ever. I’m not even a real fiancée. Him calling me the love of his life last night in front of our family doesn’t change that. He said it to salvage my pride and shut his stepmother up.
Then there was the Lauren woman. If Julian knew her, she was probably somebody very special to Ryder. I hurt for him, but I probably shouldn’t say anything. Sometimes talking helps, and sometimes it just reopens the wounds. I suspect it’s the latter with Ryder. It’s been years, and given his personality, he’s moved on—or tried to.
Come on, girl. I’m not letting a jerk like Julian ruin things between Ryder and me. We both know what we’re getting out of this union. Keeping our eyes on the prize is what matters, not reacting to everything Julian tosses our way.
I finish the breakfast and go to my suite to shower and get ready for the day. Stylists are going to be here in the afternoon to help me get ready for the party. It’s our first real social event as a couple, so it’s important that we put on a good show. It would be horrible to go through the charade only to be found out and have Ryder lose any chance at getting his grandfather’s painting back.
I pull my hair back into a ponytail and put on a pair of comfy, loose gray pants and a pink tank top. They are two items of a few meager “lazing around the house” outfits Josephine deemed acceptable. If she had it her way, I’d wear nothing but designer dresses all the time.
The door to Ryder’s office is open. He’s inside, reading a script submission, which he always does himself. Thankfully Mira doesn’t send him a lot since he is hyper-selective about his roles. It also helps that he’s a very fast reader. I honestly thought it was some kind of practical joke when I first saw him flipping through one.
He’s reclining in a Barcalounger and…there’s a couple fingers of scotch in a glass by his chair. Huh. I’ve never seen him drink this early. A white shirt strains against his heavily muscled torso, his shoulders impossibly broad and powerful. He flexes his feet as he reads. I can’t believe he’s mine for a little over a year.
Not really yours. Just in name. And…something.
It’s that something that bothers me.
There is a wall between us that I discovered last night. I can only get so close before Ryder will shut me out. At the same time, we do everything like a real couple. We share a house, eat late-night snacks together, have incredible sex. Our relationship is more marriage-like than a lot of couples who are married for real.
And the contradiction is driving me insane.
Or maybe I’m just becoming greedier. I told myself I’d be satisfied with our arrangement so long as my child was free of Shaun and his negative influence. Plus Ryder is going to set it up for life.
But somehow I hunger for more. Maybe it’s the speech Ryder made last night… I wish it were a genuine sentiment, not some line he said to play a role.
“Morning,” he says, giving me the brilliant smile that has every woman in the world melting at his feet.
“Morning.”
“Just so you’re prepared…” He lets the sentence hang dramatically.
“Yes?”
“…Mom didn’t go back to her house.”
Ah. Thus the early drink.
He tosses the script aside. “She supposedly didn’t even make it to her car. Not in any condition to drive, don’t you know.”
“Doesn’t she have a driver?”
“Yeah, but apparently he went home early—during the dinner—because of some emergency.”
His tone says he’s too smart to buy that. I don’t blame him.
Geraldine is not the type to let other people inconvenience her. The driver would have to have a stroke in order for her to let him go before she was done with the day’s schedule.
He sighs. “Thought I should warn you.”
“Warn her about what?”
I almost jump at the cheery voice. Geraldine comes in, thick curls cascading down her back and shoulders. I’ve never seen her with her hair loose, but she looks much younger this way.
And she isn’t in the same outfit, but the new blue dress is just as expensive and elegant as yesterday’s. A string of pearls wraps around her slender throat, and her makeup is perfect.
Well, I think. It’s almost like she brought all her things with her.
“What do you want, Mom?” Ryder says.
Geraldine gives me a long-suffering look. “My son. Always the epitome of politeness.” She sighs theatrically. “What I want, Ryder, is to say goodbye. My driver’s going to be here in a few minutes.”
His smile is surprised…and genuine. “Oh. Well, okay… Great.”
“Could I just borrow Paige for a moment before I go?”
“Sure, Ms. Pryce,” I respond in reflex. Old habits die hard, and sure enough, she cocks an eyebrow.
I manage a chagrined expression. “Mother.” One word I never thought would be awkward to speak out loud, but oh lord it is.
“Splendid.” She holds out her hand, and I have no choice but to take it.
Geraldine’s palm is soft, the bones underneath delicate. She probably never had to do any sort of labor while growing up, and if she ever broke a sweat, it was due to her own choice, not necessity.
She wraps an arm around my waist and we make our way down the stairs to the foyer. She tilts her head in my direction. We must make a pretty picture—the bride-to-be and her future mother-in-law spending quality time together.
“I’m so glad you’ve upgraded your wardrobe, my dear. Being my son’s wife will entail maintaining a certain image.”
“Josephine Martinez picked some things out for me.”
“She has good taste. Perhaps she could help your family out as well? We can’t have them showing up in, well…clearance rack clothes. It would be embarrassing for them, and for you, too. And how would it reflect on Ryder?”<
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Anger and resentment knot in my chest, but I force a smile to avoid making a scene. My family’s wardrobe is perfectly fine by the standards of everyday America, but not people who spend four figures on a pair of jeans.
She continues. “Ryder laid it on quite thickly, didn’t he?” Her voice is so low I have to strain to hear her. “Babies. My goodness.”
My instinct blares caution. “Well, he does love children.”
“Does he now?” Geraldine smiles, her eyes bright with amusement. “I approve of this union only because it will foil Julian’s attempt to control Ryder, not because I think you’re a suitable bride for my son.”
Everything inside me freezes. “How…?” I blink a couple of times. I’m certain Julian didn’t tell her, and Ryder? No way. The only likely person is Elizabeth, but she isn’t that close to her parents either.
Geraldine chuckles. “Don’t be so shocked. I’m not some moronic society matron, frittering her life away in a state of ignorance.” She clasps my hand in hers. “I’m sure there’s a prenup, but still, a child would complicate things. I hope you take care to avoid creating such a complication. A divorce should be clean and swift, don’t you agree?”
Sue appears, smiling at the sight of us. “Your car’s here, ma’am,” she says to Geraldine.
“Wonderful. Thank you.” Geraldine turns and gives me air kisses. “I’m sure you’ll make my son happy,” her mouth says, but her eyes say, You better make him happy.
I’m too stunned to react. I stay rooted to the spot as she waggles two fingers good-bye and leaves the house.
When the door closes with a click, it starts me out of my trance.
“Paige?” Sue asks.
“I’m fine.” I force a smile. “Just surprised that she had to spend the night here.”
“I think she just wanted to stay here. Isn’t it sweet? She had coffee with Ryder earlier.”
“How lovely,” I murmur.
Sue doesn’t know the whole stilted situation with Geraldine and Ryder. All the appointments and social calendar stuff are managed at my level. She hears only what Ryder wants her to hear.
As I go upstairs, a shiver of apprehension runs through me. Agreeing to help Ryder by “marrying” him is supposed to be just that: help. I, however, underestimated what the job truly entailed. Julian isn’t stupid, so he probably knows that our union isn’t for real. But Geraldine? Both of them seem eager to toss me into the center of petty squabbles that have been going on for a while.
The last thing I want to be is collateral damage.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Ryder
It’s already time and I don’t see Paige. The stylists arrived as soon as lunch was over. What on earth can they still be doing to her?
Mom told me over breakfast that I should at least buy engagement party outfits for Paige’s family, since they obviously can’t afford anything better than what they had on. I didn’t want to—talk about rude and presumptuous. Trying to dictate how someone else should dress? Plus, their clothes from last night showed that they can dress themselves just fine.
But she said their shabbiness would embarrass Paige, and that she would be too proud to ask for help. And that’s true enough. Paige won’t even take my money, which is nothing compared to what she’s doing for me. I could’ve offered her quadruple that amount, because that’s just how much the painting means to me.
So I sicced Josephine on her family, with specific instructions to buy them something for the party only, provided that they’re okay with it. I don’t want to force them into doing anything they aren’t comfortable with.
From the top of the winding staircase, I can see everything down below.
The guests are already here, everyone in tuxes and suits and fancy gowns. Priceless perfumes fill the air, and exquisitely cut gemstones adorn hands, throats, ears and wrists. I could’ve made it a more casual affair, but I need the party to look as glam as possible because that’s exactly what I’d do if things were real. My invitation informed the guests that I’ve hired a team of photographers. And no one in Hollywood wants to look like shit—unless that’s their brand. My publicists will release a few stills with my approval.
I glance at my watch once again. It’s about time we make a grand entr—
“How do I look?”
I turn around and stare at Paige.
Artful makeup enlarges her beautiful brown eyes and highlights the perfect structure of her facial bones. Raspberry color tints her full lips, which are set in a slightly apprehensive smile. Her hair makes a half-loop around her neck in sleek waves and rests on her left breast. The ivory-colored gown is elegant but sexy with a V-neck that shows off her gorgeous breasts.
I make a circle with my finger.
She flushes, then makes a slow turn.
I nearly have a heart attack.
The gown has no back. Her dress is held together by four ivory ribbons tied into one large and elaborate bow. If I tug on it, it’ll unravel like wrapping from a Christmas present.
I wipe my mouth, just in case I’m drooling.
“Josephine said the bow would stay put,” Paige says, twisting to look at her back. “So…”
“You look incredible.” I run my hands down her sides, tracing the enticing curves. I’m very close to canceling the damned party so I can drag her upstairs and have my way with her. “I’m going to be the envy of everyone here.”
She laughs softly. My insides warm at the sound.
“I think you mean I’m going to be the envy of everyone,” she says. “I do believe you’re the most suavely handsome man I’ve ever seen.”
“Ah, it’s just the tux.”
“I don’t know.” Her gaze slides to the crowd below. “I see a lot of tuxes down there, but not a single one of them makes me catch my breath.”
We take steps together down the stairs. The crowd claps and goes wild. I hear one of my former costars whistling. A grin pops on my face.
I’m an actor, so I can fake almost anything. And I thought I’d be faking my way through the engagement and marriage. But Paige makes it easy. I don’t even have to try to have a good time. Just standing next to her makes my heart fill with light.
She’s smiling too, and her eyes sparkle. I don’t know if she’s acting. If she is, she’s a natural. And the idea hurts, dims the light in my heart. It yearns for something I don’t understand, something I have no experience or knowledge to comprehend.
A part of me wonders if that’s why Paige’s stepfather didn’t find me good enough for her. I noticed the disapproval in his gaze. He must’ve sensed that I’m not the perfect, ultimately desirable man the media says I am.
We’re assailed by an endless stream of congratulations as the guests engulf us. I introduce Paige since she hasn’t met all of them in person, and I want to make sure she does. Almost everyone is my guest, including several cousins. Two are missing: Vanessa is too pregnant to come, and of course Dane is an anti-social psychopath who avoids all “unnecessary” functions.
Finally we reach a couple of Paige’s guests. Her roommate Renni stares at me, her mouth open. She’s pretty in an unconventional sense, and her red cocktail dress fits her well.
I grin and say, “You’re making your man very sad.”
Her date laughs. “Nah. I don’t blame her,” he speaks with a light Russian accent. “If I played for the other team I’d be drooling too.”
Paige tenses under my hand. But when I look, she’s smiling at him. “It’s a good thing none of us play for the other team. Less complicated that way.”
Renni’s smile becomes a bit strained, but her date doesn’t seem to notice. We chat for a few moments, then move on. As we walk away from them, I whisper, “What was that all about?”
“Nothing.”
I grin at her. “Were you jealous he might take me away from you?”
She snorts. “Hardly.”
I spot Elliot. He’s actually wearing a tux, which is unusual. I thought he�
��d attend in whatever he felt comfortable in. He rarely follows tradition or rules. Elizabeth walks by his side. She, of course, is in a dark lavender designer dress. That’s just how she rolls.
I don’t see Blake or Lucas, but that doesn’t surprise me. Blake is a lot like Dane, and currently in Boston brokering some deal he has to take care of himself. And Lucas… Well he doesn’t do parties anymore.
Elliot comes forward and hugs Paige. “Hello, hottie. Why are you marrying an ogre like this guy?”
She hugs him back. “Good to see you, Elliot.”
He snaps his fingers in mock vexation. “Man! I knew I should’ve asked you to marry me way back when.”
“Too late,” I say dryly. “But I told you I’d send you someone suitable, and I wasn’t kidding. Already hired someone.” I’m not going into the specifics of our convo, not with Paige and Elizabeth around.
“Your taste in woman is awful. Present company excepted, of course.”
“You look amazing,” Elizabeth says to Paige. “Congratulations! I’m so glad you’re going to be my sister-in-law!”
Paige flushes. A staff member comes over and whispers something in her ear, and she puts her hand on my forearm to catch my attention. “I’ll be right back.”
I nod, and she slips away.
“Just so you know, Elizabeth says she is going to move in with you,” Elliot says, bringing my focus back to my siblings. “I told her she’s going to ruin the lovey dovey mood between you guys, but apparently my place isn’t good enough.”
“I want a clean and non-disgusting place.” Elizabeth wrinkles her nose. “That disqualifies your porn palace.”
Elliot bursts out laughing, and I hide my grin. Our poor sister, still traumatized by the sex tape.
“How do you know? Did you watch the tape?” he asks.
“No. But I saw still shots on the Internet. How could I not? They were everywhere for a month!” She squeezes her eyes shut. “I’ve never wanted to bleach my brain until that moment.”