Contracted For Love: Famous Love Series

by Tracey Pedersen

  Contracted For Love

  Famous Love Series

  Book 1

  Tracey Pedersen

  Contracted For Love

  Copyright © 2016 Tracey Pedersen

  All Rights Reserved

  ISBN 978-0-9945485-5-9

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical or electronic, including photocopying, scanning or recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without permission in writing from the author. This includes transmission by email.

  Reviewers are permitted to quote brief passages for the purpose of reviewing only.

  Contracted For Love is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locations is purely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized by, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to all the potty mouths out there! I’ve always loved colourful language!

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  Acknowledgment

  Where Can You Find Me?

  Sneak Peek

  CHAPTER ONE

  “What. The. Actual. Fuck?”

  Charlotte Shipton stood open-mouthed as she stared at Jack Fawkner across the conference room table. His fat, balding manager, Freddy Caspian, was grinning like an idiot who’d just won the lotto and would be broke within a month. Her own partner in crime, Jay Stevens, was grinning just as widely, which was the part she couldn’t actually believe. “Did you really just say you think we should get married, Jay? The two of us,” she indicated herself and Jack, “who just met,” she checked her iPhone with the push of the home key, “seventeen minutes ago?”

  “Charlotte, calm down. Let me explain why this is such a good idea.”

  “This is not a fucking good idea, Jay.”

  “You were right about the potty mouth,” Freddy said quietly, to no one in particular. Jay sighed and glared at him.

  “A fucking potty mouth? That’s what you think I have? I can tell you, Mr. Fat Fuck, that I have so much more where that came from that it’s not even funny.” She crossed her arms across her ample chest and glared at him, daring him to say another word. He finally looked away and she turned her icy stare on Jack. “Did you know about this bullshit?”

  Jack put his hands up, as though to ward off the sun. “Woah, don’t turn your spotlight on me. I’m hearing this for the first time, too.” He turned to Freddy. “What were you thinking? Why would I want to marry her?” he flicked his head at Charlotte dismissively.

  Jay piped up before Jack’s agent could say anything. “Freddy and I have discussed it and we think it could work really well for both of your careers.”

  Charlotte shot out of her chair, making it fall over with a crash. “Since when do you have discussions of this magnitude without me? What are you, my fucking pimp, now? You’re arranging marriages for me? If not him, would you have had someone else lined up to take his place, Jay?”

  Jack watched her with interest. He’d heard whispers of a feisty Australian who’d recently shown up in Hollywood, and now here she was in front of him, living up to every story he’d heard. The gossip had been spot-on for once. Her eyes were flashing and her sun-kissed, blonde hair flailed around behind her whenever she flounced around the room. She was a ball of furious energy, right now. In Los Angeles, everyone seemed so fake that, even with her crazy temper, it was refreshing to see someone being themselves and being totally honest with everyone in the room. There was no way he wanted to marry her, though.

  “Charlotte, this could make a huge difference to your career. You’re having trouble getting those great roles, but being married to someone who’s been in the business for as long as Jack has will give you the credibility you need to get more auditions. It’s a huge foot in the door. I know you’ll be a great actress, but you need to get your name known in the papers. If that’s not through acting, then we need to find another way. This is a perfect option.”

  “Wait,” Jack finally spoke up. “What am I getting out of this? Why do I have to be her meal ticket?”

  “You’re not my fucking meal ticket, asshole. There’s not a hope in hell of me marrying your high-and-mighty ass.” She glared at him and he glared straight back.

  “Why are you calling me an asshole? We just met. You could at least save that for after we’re married, sweetheart.”

  Charlotte let out a scream of frustration and spun around to look out the window. She could feel tears of fury pricking the corners of her eyes, but she’d be damned if she’d let them think she was crying. She contemplated hurling her agent out of this twenty-six story window, if she could get it open, but she would not cry real tears.

  Freddy addressed Jack in his most conciliatory tone. “What you get out of this, Jack, is a marriage that makes you seem older in the eyes of the public. You’ve been out of the spotlight for a while, but you’re still a big star. We’ve been trying to shed that childish good-boy image and this is as quick way to lift your music career out of the teeny-bopper stage and into the big-time.”

  “I don’t need to get married to do that. My music isn’t for kids.”

  “We know that, but so far, they don’t. The kids are your fans, and adults think of you as their children’s crush. No one has quite worked out that you’ve grown up, yet. You’re fairly clean-cut, so unless you’re planning a bender in Vegas, or to woo a Kardashian, this is the next best thing.”

  “Well, I do prefer brunettes.” Charlotte snorted from the other side of the room, where she gazed out over the city. “Regardless, it sounds like a bad idea. When word gets out...”

  “Word won’t get out,” Jay interrupted. “It can’t. We’ll have an ironclad contract for you both to sign and you’ll be sworn to secrecy. The only people who will know about this are in this room, and all of us stand to benefit from this going off without a hitch—pardon the wedding pun.” He smirked at his joke, as Charlotte spun around from the window, wide-eyed.

  “We wouldn’t even tell our own family?”

  “No. It’d have to be an absolute secret. There’s too much chance of this getting out, if you tell anyone, and the scandal would most likely have the exact opposite effect on your careers.”

  “Although, it might help, you never can tell…”

  “Don’t even think about it, Freddy. You’re not leaking this shit to the press. How desperate do you think that will make me look?” Jack glared at his manager, daring him to continue.

  “You’re right: bad idea. Stick with the wedding.”

  “There’s not going to be a fucking wedding, you morons.” Charlotte
shouted at the three of them. “Why would I marry a washed-up child star? He’s nearly ten years older than me!”

  “Why would I marry someone who can’t speak a single sentence without cursing? Are you sure you’re an actress, honey? Can’t you act like a lady for a few minutes?”

  “Fuck you, Jackie Fawkner.” She put the emphasis on his old acting name that had followed him around since he was seven. “You’re a grown-up, now, kiddo: you’re allowed to swear whenever you want.”

  “Pleased to see that you know who I am, even if I’ve never heard of you.”

  She raised her middle finger to him and held it in front of her with a fake smile. Jack shook his head and returned his attention to Freddy. “You’ll get married because you’re in love, of course!” He clapped his hands together in glee. “You met and it was an instant attraction. We’ll have you go out for a couple of dinner dates, and maybe to a theme park, and then, voila, a wedding announcement! Charlotte, you’ll gush about his manly abs and how you love his grown-up music.” She snorted and made vomiting sounds as Freddy turned to Jack. “You have a crazy attraction to her free-spirited ways and her complete refusal to be intimidated by Hollywood or conform to the usual expectations. You get to marry a smoking-hot woman, and this will have your female fans taking notice of what’s now gone off the market. It’s genius—very adult.”

  “Except that he prefers brunettes, dickhead. Have you thought about what you’re saying? How long do you expect this charade to go on for?” Charlotte looked at all of them, horrified that they hadn’t already dismissed this insane idea. Jay cleared his throat, as though he’d thought this wouldn’t have come up so early. Charlotte glared at him and crossed her arms again. “How fucking long, Jay?”

  “We think three years is a reasonable time frame.” He said, waiting for the explosion that was sure to follow. Amazingly, Charlotte stood in total silence, absolutely stunned, judging by the look on her face.

  It was Jack who spoke up first. “Three years? We have to be married for three years? How the hell will I put up with her for that long? We haven’t even been here for three hours and I already have a headache.”

  “You have a headache? I thought you were a rock star?” Charlotte turned to Jay, “Do you want me to marry him because he’s gay?” She turned back to Jack. “Are you gay, Jack? Because again, you’re an adult and you don’t have to hide that shit, anymore. Just be yourself dude.”

  “Really?” he looked at her in disgust.

  “Really,” she said with another fake smile and a nod to show that she meant it.

  “How would we explain living apart?” Jack asked Freddy. Jack’s manager glanced at Jay, wondering if they’d even discussed that when they had hatched this plan last night over a bottle of Jack Daniels.

  “That’s easy: you’re gay.” Charlotte threw in helpfully.

  “Would you shut up?” he glared at her.

  “Charlotte, please don’t get mad,” he glanced at her before he continued, “The only way this can work is if you’re married for all intents and purposes. You’d need to live together, shop together, vacation together—it’s all or nothing. There’s no other way to make it work in this age of social media and instant news. You can’t half-ass it or the secret will be out in the first week.”

  Jack and Charlotte stared at each other as the details of this crazy arrangement sank in. She blinked once and dropped into the nearest chair, all the fight shocked out of her. “Let me get this straight in my poor, blonde brain,” she glared at Jack before she went on. “You want us to have a fake engagement, move in together, have a fake wedding, actually include our families in the lies and not tell them that they are feeling happy for a fake future we’ll never have… and you want us to do it for three years?”

  “That about sums it up.”

  “What. The Actual. Fuck?”

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Can you run through the scene for me, baby? Exactly as it’s written.”

  Charlotte took a deep breath and resisted the urge to squeeze her eyes shut at the endearment.

  Just play the part; you’re an actress, for fuck’s sake. Play the part, get the role, get famous, and then you won’t have to suffer through this shit ever again.

  She smiled brightly at Richard, who was sitting lazily in his chair, and turned to the man she was auditioning with. He eyed her with disinterest, except for the couple of times his eyes flicked down to her boobs.

  Why the fuck did I wear this low cut shirt? You know why, stupid: because shirts that cover you up aren’t getting you anywhere. You wanted to be famous, and this is what comes with the territory. Now, say your lines and let’s get this fame show on the road.

  Richard coughed slightly and she glanced at him again. He stared hard at her and she felt herself break out in a cold sweat. She couldn’t find her voice, even though all she had to do was read the words on the page.

  She glanced down at the shaking script in her hand and finally squeezed her eyes shut.

  You’ve got this.

  She let every part of her body relax and lowered the script she’d already memorised to her side. She opened her eyes and looked at the man in front of her in her most adoring way. His eyes registered surprise at the sudden change in her stance as she placed her hand flirtily on his arm.

  “Why don’t you show me what you plan to do to me?”

  ***

  An hour later, she’d aced the audition and was waiting expectantly in Richard’s office. She knew she’d been great and the part was hers. It was a tiny part, but it was a big-budget film—a blockbuster. She’d have enough lines to get someone to notice her and she planned to make them count. This was her ticket to the big-time and she’d gladly work for free, if they asked her. It wasn’t that she didn’t need the money, though. She could survive another six months at most, and then she’d have to take a waitressing job, or worse: a Hollywood tour guide role. Whatever it took, she damn well wasn’t going home to Australia as a failure; she was going home as a star.

  Richard entered quietly through a door to the side and Charlotte’s heart dropped like a lead weight to the floor. He looked disappointed and not thrilled, like she expected. His eyes met hers and he sighed. Was he playing a joke, or had they really not loved her? She bit the inside of her lip hard while she waited for some clue from him. As his eyes met hers, she felt a shiver wash over her skin. She had a sudden premonition that she wasn’t going to like what he had to say.

  “Well, Charlotte, darling, that was an interesting audition. Your performance was very good, and we appreciated that you learned your lines.”

  “Thanks, Richard. I’d love this role, and I always prepare like that. I won’t need any prompting on set, because I’ll be ready and prepared every single time.”

  “Yes, dear, I’m sure you would be.”

  Oh no. He said, “would.” I’m not getting this role. Fuck!

  He sat and stared at her as her mind jumped to the next audition she was booked for. It was still two weeks away. Maybe she could still salvage this. “Didn’t you like me?”

  “Of course we did, dear. You were riveting. It’s just that we have to make a hard choice, now. We have three fabulous girls who would each be perfect for this role in their own way. Now we have to decide who’s the most willing to do what we need.”

  Jesus Christ. I can do whatever you need. Please, give me the chance.

  “What is it that you need?” she asked, deciding to grab the bull by the horns. “I’m willing to do whatever you require of me. I’ve read the script and I know there are quite a few stunts; I’m game to do whatever you think I’m capable of. I can dance, so the ballroom scene won’t require you to spend any money training me. What else is there that you need me to address?”

  Richard cleared his throat and got out of his chair. He came around to the front of his desk and stood directly in front of her before leaning back and placing his hands on either side of him. He looked directly at her, like he was try
ing to decide whether to tell her a secret, or keep it for himself.

  She could hardly stand waiting. “What?”

  “Would you be willing to do a sex scene?”

  “A sex scene?” She felt colour rush into her cheeks, which was stupid. She wasn’t a naive eighteen-year-old; she would be twenty-two next year—practically an old lady in Hollywood. She’d had plenty of boyfriends in real life and had even had some low-key sex scenes in some of the plays she’d done in Australia. She should have no trouble doing the same on the big screen. “I didn’t know there was a sex scene in the movie.”

  “Well, there wasn’t, but scripts are often changed as the movie goes along. We’ve been tossing up adding this scene for a little while. It wouldn’t be anything major or too gratuitous, but it would be necessary. For the story, you understand.” As he said the words, he reached out to her crossed legs and put his hand on her knee. She watched his thumb rub along the side of her kneecap and she raised her eyes to meet his.

  “I’m sure I could handle that. Do you allow the set to be cleared when you do these things?”

  “Yes,” he breathed. “We try to keep these things private, so as few people see as possible.” His hand squeezed her knee a little harder and he suddenly knelt in front of her. Before she could react, his hand had slid up the outside of her thigh and up her skirt. He stopped and his fingertips rested lightly on the elastic of her very sensible underwear.

  All her senses were screaming at her to run—to slap his hand away and get the hell out of there. She needed this job, though, and she didn’t want to flee until she was certain that this wasn’t some sort of test to see how she would do under the pressure of the cameras with half a dozen crewmembers standing around, watching.

  She’d heard of the Hollywood casting couch, of course, because all the actors talked about it. They’d mostly decided it was a myth, made up by old movie executives to keep the mystery of the movie business alive. Sitting here, with Richard’s hand up her skirt and his eyes glued to her, she was suddenly not so sure. Charlotte was also acutely aware that they were some of the last people in the building. She’d watched a large group leave about half an hour before Richard had returned to his office.