by Nadia Lee
“So.” I clear my throat to get their attention. “Why are you moving in here? Not that you aren’t welcome, but I thought you liked Virginia.”
“I do, but it’s Tiffany.”
“Who?” Elliot asks.
“Our current stepmom,” Elizabeth explains.
“Well, learn something new every day. What about Wife Number Six?”
“She wants to play at being mom. She comes over every morning to have coffee with me. Apparently she’d prefer to have a family breakfast together, but since I’m too busy to accept a daily invitation, she’s decided to invite herself over for coffee instead.”
Elliot is stroking his jaw with more force than necessary, trying not to laugh.
“It’s not funny!”
“Well, hey,” I say. “You have to drink coffee anyway, right? What’s the harm in humoring the poor woman?” There has to be more.
“She wants to advise me on dating. And men—”
“Is she giving you tips on how to snag a guy three times your age and two thousand times your net worth?” Elliot says, letting the laugh out.
Elizabeth shoots him a withering glare. “No. It’s much worse. She’s also giving me sex advice.”
“Ewww.” Normally I’d be down with two young women talking about sex…but this is my sister. “How long has this been going on?”
“Over two weeks.”
“You’re a saint,” Elliot says. “I would’ve torched my house and salted the land after two visits. Fled the fucking continent.”
“Anyway, I hope you don’t mind,” she says to me.
“Of course not. Paige’s parents are staying at the guest house, but they’re leaving soon. And there are six other suites to choose from until then.”
“Thank you.”
“Hey, what’s an older brother for…” My voice trails away as I see the man I never wanted to see again.
Elliot turns his head to see what got my attention. “Son of a bitch,” he mutters under his breath.
I can never forget Anthony Blackwood.
We were friends from early childhood, our bond forged over crappy parents and their desire to keep us in one European boarding school after another. All that history went out the window, though, when things turned nasty over Lauren. Our rivalry lasted a bitter half-year, then ended abruptly with a tragic outcome. He blames me for what happened. The crappy thing is, he’s right. If it weren’t for me, Lauren would never have gotten involved in a dangerous, ugly scene for fame and fortune…and died the way she did.
“I thought the party was invitation only.” Elliot looks at me. “What the hell is he doing here?”
“That’s a good question.” I made sure to hire security to keep intruders out.
The black tux fits Anthony’s slim frame well. His dark hair is slicked back, and an air of opulence and insolence rolls off him in waves.
When I last saw him, he was materially comfortable enough, thanks to some money his grandmother left him, but didn’t have much else to his name. Although his family is filthy rich, his father made it clear he would get nothing simply because he’s the second son.
Something’s changed in the last seven years. Anthony’s amassed billions with his clubs and bars. I honestly have no idea where he even got the seed capital since everyone knew about his circumstances, but I guess the Blackwood name carries some weight among tight-fisted investors.
Anthony walks over to us. His lips smile, but his eyes stay flat. “Congratulations, Ryder. Who would’ve thought you’d marry so soon?”
“How did you get in?” If he bribed security, I’m going to sue the company into the ground.
“I was invited.”
“No, you weren’t.”
“Actually, I was.” He smiles, leans forward for a stage whisper. “Ask your fiancée.”
Something cold clutches my heart, and I school my face into an unreadable mask. “Do you know Paige?”
The smile finally reaches his eyes, and a chill settles along my back even as anger knots in my belly. Nothing good can come of his reappearance in my life.
“She’s very beautiful,” he says finally. “You’re a lucky man.”
“Fuck off.”
He raises an eyebrow and faces my siblings. “Is he always this touchy? Or is it just a sense of…personal inadequacy?” He turns to Elizabeth. “What do you think, Lizzie?”
“That is not my name.” Her voice is careful, neither warm nor cold. She looks at him up and down but not snottily. My sister’s too polite for that.
“Stiff as ever, I see.” Something hard and dark flashes in his eyes. But then he blinks once, and he’s back to his usual insufferable self.
I grind my teeth. I don’t want him anywhere near Elizabeth or Paige. After Lauren, his parting words were, “I’m going to destroy the people you love the most, just like you did to me.”
“Get out,” I say.
“Now now, let’s not make a scene. I haven’t done anything, and I’m your fiancée’s guest. I’ll go if Paige wants me to.”
“Stay away from me and mine,” I warn him.
“Ooh, was that a line from a script? Brilliantly delivered.” Anthony looks around, every inch the relaxed party guest. “They’re adults, so I’m sure they can make up their own minds as to who to associate with.”
I know without a doubt that he’s here to make me pay for what happened. And Paige and Elizabeth are both in his crosshairs.
I’m not too worried about my sister. She doesn’t like to place herself in dangerous situations, and she’s extra careful since a stalker incident some years ago. Even if you aren’t a celebrity, when you’re a gorgeous heiress with a heart of gold, you get targeted by some sick fucks. I can ask her to stay away from Anthony, and she will.
But Paige? She does what she wants. And the thing is she’s not even my employee anymore. She’s my fiancée, even if our arrangement isn’t real. She would never agree to do everything I tell her to, and I don’t want to let her in on the whole sordid history. It’s none of her business…and I don’t want to see the disillusionment in her eyes.
Anthony knows that.
“I’ll only say this once, Anthony. I will ruin you if you fuck with me, or anyone close to me.”
“I’m sure you’ll try.” Ice fills Anthony’s face. “I’m not the same helpless young man from seven years ago, Ryder.”
“No. Just disowned now, right?” I bare my teeth in a smile. I don’t know the details, but his father publicly disowned him a couple of years back. Given how much Tulane Blackwood loves success and money, Anthony had to have done something really bad if all his wealth can’t make up for it.
My last line finally cracks his façade. Anger erupts in his gaze. His face turns livid, and the muscles in his jaw clench.
Come on, throw the first punch.
I’d love an excuse to toss him out.
Then the heat vanishes from his gaze and the tension from his body. He merely nods at Elizabeth and walks away.
Acid eats at my gut. He would’ve punched me in the face seven years ago. Now…he’s controlled. And that worries me more than his threats.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Paige
After I sort out the minor crisis in the kitchen, which required my input thanks to a model who decided to pitch a fit over “allergies” and “unnatural” food—I return to the party. It’s impossible to spot Ryder in the massive, heaving crush. I can’t believe he knows this many people.
My progress across the ballroom is glacial. Guests stop me to say hello, offer congratulations and make small talk. Their faces all seem familiar, except I can’t remember their names anymore. I start to wish for an assistant who had every attendee memorized and could whisper their names into my ear, like that scene from The Devil Wears Prada. Unfortunately I don’t think it’s something I can ask for. Ryder’s never needed me for that, so I’ll just have to get through this as best I can.
“I must say, that dress looks st
unning on you.”
I turn around. “Anthony!” Finally, someone I recognize and who is also my guest. “I didn’t know if you could make it.”
“Oh, believe me. Wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”
I smile. “I’m happy to hear that. Have you seen Ryder?”
“A few minutes ago.”
“Great. I hope you two had a chance to catch up.”
He chuckles. “That we did. Thank you, Paige. It was quite…gratifying to see him again after so long.”
“When was the last time you guys spent time together?”
“Seven years ago.” Good humor still glitters in his eyes, but his expression sharpens. “When he was a new and rising star.”
The orchestra starts a waltz tune, and he extends his hand. “Would you do me the honor?”
“Well… I’m actually looking for Ryder.”
“He’s around somewhere, but I’m leaving soon, and I’d hate to go without a dance with the belle of the ball.”
I would really prefer to find Ryder, and I wanted to dance with him first. But I also don’t want Anthony to feel snubbed or anything, especially if he’s leaving soon. Even though he’s Ryder’s friend, I’m the one who invited him.
“Okay. One dance,” I say with a nod.
His smile widens, showing straight white teeth. He takes my hand and leads me to the dance floor, where he puts his free hand to the small of my back. His hold is entirely proper—not too close, not too stiff.
“Just so you know, I’ve never waltzed,” I say.
“No worries. It’s just a dance in three beats. One-two-three, one-two-three. Just follow my lead.”
He’s an excellent dancer. I mess up here and there, almost stepping on his toes a couple of times, but he doesn’t criticize.
The waltz doesn’t last long. When the final note fades in the air, Anthony bows. I curtsy in return.
“What the hell?”
A hand grips my wrist, not hard enough to hurt but hard enough for me to feel the barely restrained fury. I gape at Ryder.
I’m not the only one staring. Other guests circle around, their eyes glued to the three of us in the center.
Ryder glares at Anthony like he wants to strangle his old friend. “I warned you,” he says in a low voice.
“I didn’t force her to dance with me. Don’t be a jealous ass,” Anthony says carelessly, brushing lint off his sleeve. “I don’t mind if you make a scene, but how would your fiancée feel?”
“If you care about her feelings, you’ll definitely stay away.”
“Why?” Anthony steps closer and lowers his voice so that only Ryder and I can hear. “Are you afraid of creating another Lauren? I thought you Hollywood types love sequels.”
I feel Ryder’s pulse throb through his palm. I try to step forward, but he pulls me back. I put a hand on Ryder’s arm and rack my brain for some way to defuse the situation. “Anthony, I think you said you were leaving.”
“Did I?” Anthony smiles. “Ah, yes I did, didn’t I? Of course. I have quite a lot to do tonight.” He gives me a bow. It’s perfectly executed and pointedly polite. Somehow he makes it clear it’s all directed at Ryder, though. “Thank you for the dance, Paige. Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials.”
He leaves, his stride long but unhurried.
His hand still around my wrist, Ryder pulls out his phone and texts. Make sure Anthony Blackwood is gone. If he shows up again, have him arrested.
Once he’s done, he looks at me. He lowers his face so people can’t try to read his lips. “We have to talk.”
Dread unfurls in my belly like poison. “Upstairs?”
He shakes his head. “Not now. After the party.”
* * *
The rest of the evening passes in a blur. The earlier scene scraped my nerves, and it’s hard to pretend I’m enjoying myself, even though I paste on a smile. My parents are here, and they’re watching me. Neither of them is crazy about the idea of me marrying Ryder, and I don’t want to give them more reason to think badly of him.
Ryder, on the other hand, is a champ. He talks to everyone like nothing’s wrong, and nobody mentions the confrontation again, not even Mira, who gives me the Look of Death.
I pull her to the side. “Okay, explain to me what I did wrong.”
“I can’t because I didn’t see what happened. But you should’ve never invited someone you don’t know.”
“He said he was Ryder’s friend.”
“Honey, everyone says that if it means getting into a party.”
“Yeah, I know that. But he owns Z. And his family’s just as rich and well-connected as Ryder’s.”
“I don’t care if he owns the entire city of Los Angeles. This is supposed to be about Ryder’s engagement. Now the only thing people are going to talk about when they get home is how Ryder almost lost it when a guest was dancing with you.”
I cringe. “Maybe Christopher can spin it into Ryder being jealous?” There’s no turd Christopher can’t turn into gold.
“But Ryder doesn’t get jealous!” she hisses furiously. “Ryder never gets jealous.”
She stalks away in her stilettos, reaching into her clutch to pull out her phone. I should count myself lucky she didn’t put one of her spike heels through my eye.
Sighing, I hide in the powder room and sit down. The fact that Anthony lied to get invited to the party upsets me, but what he said won’t leave my mind.
Another Lauren.
So the other man she was dating must’ve been Anthony. But why couldn’t he see that both he and Ryder were the victims of her manipulation? It’s obvious she wanted fame, not either of the two men.
If Anthony was honest about having been Ryder’s friend, doesn’t he understand what a terrible waste it is to throw that friendship away for a woman who was only using him as the lowest rung on the ladder to fame?
It might be years ago and she might be gone, but she obviously still casts a long shadow over the men…and now me. I expected the worst that would probably happen in this fake marriage was getting caught between Ryder and Julian. I never thought I would end up in an old feud over a dead woman.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ryder
Mira approaches with her mouth set in a hard line, cutting through the crowd like a shark in still water. People move out of the way.
I look at her with a small smile even as an internal alarm goes off. She had the exact same look when that tramp released her fake sex tape for publicity. Whatever it is, I’m sure she and the team can handle it, but I still can’t help but feel a little tense. I have a lot more to lose now. I don’t want some bullshit out there to hurt or humiliate Paige.
Mira puts a hand on my arm. Even in stilettos she’s short, so I bend down so she can whisper into my ear. “We have to talk. Private. It’s urgent. Your office?”
I nod, and we go upstairs to my office together. I look back at the crowd below. I haven’t seen Paige since that ugly scene with Anthony, and I hope she’s having a good time with her friends and family.
She closes the door behind us. I lean against the edge of the desk, too wired to sit. “What is it?”
“It’s Paige.” Not a ghost of smile passes over Mira’s face, not even to reassure me.
Nervous energy jitters over my nerve endings. “What about her?”
“I just got a text. Apparently there’s a sex tape of her and her ex.”
“A what?”
“A tape. Of sex,” Mira says, enunciating with care. “Showing Paige. And her ex.”
“How?” I ask almost stupidly. My brain can’t process what she’s saying. The individual words out of her mouth make perfect sense, but together? Paige isn’t the kind of girl who does stuff like that.
“‘How?’” Mira cocks an eyebrow. “Obviously they filmed themselves while having sex. Probably had the camera on a tripo—”
“I know that,” I snap at her. “I’m asking you how it leaked. Who did it?”
&nbs
p; “I don’t know yet. It’s ‘anonymous,’ although I have a shortlist of suspects.”
“Who?” My hands clench with the need to pummel someone.
“The most obvious one is Paige herself.”
“What? No.” I push myself off the desk and stand up. “No way.” My first instinct is to blame Anthony, but that doesn’t make sense either. He hasn’t been in town long enough. Besides, this is too weak a volley for what he vowed to do.
“Ryder, when a sex tape is released, it’s almost always the woman doing it for publicity.”
“What about her ex? Have you considered the idea that it might be revenge porn?”
“Of course I have. But if it was Shaun, he would’ve released it sooner. Like when she dumped him or something like that. Why sit on it until now? He didn’t know you were going to marry her.”
My mouth is dry, and an ugly cocktail of incredulity and fury courses through my veins. I draw in a lungful of air to calm myself. Losing my shit won’t do any good. “Maybe her ex did it for publicity.”
Mira makes a face. “It’s almost always the woman who gets the press. Men bragging about sex in public are a dime a dozen. Women? It’s titillating. Deliciously scandalous. I can name too many female celebrities who have zero talent but made themselves famous with a judicious use of sex tapes. They make people talk about the women for months if not years.”
I rub my face with a shaking hand. “We don’t even know if it’s real.” It could be some asshole trying to hurt me through her.
“I’m sure we can ask Paige.” Mira pauses. “Or have it authenticated somehow.”
“She doesn’t like the spotlight.”
“Don’t be so sure. She knows what fame can do for you. She’s seen it first-hand.”
“If Paige were doing it for publicity, she’d be talking to reporters, right? But she doesn’t have a single interview scheduled.” I know that much because Christopher is handling the press for both of us, and I made it clear to him that there would be none.
“Not true. She has an exclusive scheduled with Derek Madison from The Hollywood News.”
The revelation hits like someone dropped an anvil on me. Air rushes out of my lungs, and I feel faint. “Are you sure?” I stop and shake my head. Of course, she’s sure. Mira knows every secret in this town. “How?”