The Passionate One: A Billionaire Bride Pact Romance

by Lewis, Jeanette

  New York-size.

  “Why don’t we stack everything over there and I’ll get some space cleaned out as soon as I can?” Lindsey offered, pointing to a corner of the living room.

  “I can take some of this to storage,” Erin said.

  Lindsey shook her head. “It’s no problem. I’m spending so much time at the bakery I’m hardly ever home anyway. Besides, I want you to be comfortable.”

  They ordered Greek food for dinner and spent the evening catching up. Lindsey was almost set to open her own bakery, a dream she’d had for a long time.

  “I remember you talking about it at camp,” Erin said, rolling a French fry in spicy mayo. “Didn’t you already have a name for it?”

  “Yeah, Lindsey’s Luscious Luxuries.” Lindsey wrinkled her nose. “How gross does that sound? I changed it to Sugarbee Sweets. Much better, right?”

  Erin nodded. “Much better,” she agreed.

  Lindsey sighed. “I never thought it would be this much hassle,” she confessed. “I have to get permits for everything, and of course there’s a fee every time. The floor refinishers say they can’t start until I have the permits from the city, but the city won’t give me the permits until I have an inspection. Guess how long the wait is for them to send an inspector over? Forever! I was hoping to have the floors done by the end of the week so I can paint, but now who knows?” She took a bite of her gyro and chewed angrily.

  “It sounds like a lot of work for one person,” Erin said. It was on the tip of her tongue to offer to help, but she held herself back. She had enough on her plate. Besides, she didn’t think Brennan would be the type to jump in and help the way Matt always did when she got in over her head.

  As always, thoughts of Matt brought a twisting ache to her chest. She hadn’t seen him since that night in his apartment. He’d avoided her and she had been too overcome with shame and misery to seek him out.

  Had she really only been using him? If that were the case, it wouldn’t hurt this much, would it?

  No, they’d been friends. He brought her happiness and stability and she brought him ... what? Heartache and drama. Her guilt was like a wound that wouldn’t heal.

  “I’m so excited for you,” Lindsey said and Erin focused her attention back on her friend. “A play on Broadway and Brennan Avery for a boyfriend. Exactly what you dreamed about, right?”

  Erin’s throat was tight as she shook her head. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  “But he will be, eventually. You were always so certain about what you wanted. Fame, money, glory ... not necessarily in that order.”

  “I remember I probably talked about it way too much,” Erin countered. She forced her mind to think of happier things. “Remember how I used to sing everyone to sleep with a lullaby every night?” She winced. “What a dork.”

  “It was sweet,” Lindsey insisted. “But I don’t remember “Do You Hear the People Sing” being much of a lullaby. Usually all you did was get us marching around until someone came in and yelled at us to be quiet.”

  Suddenly Erin was homesick for those sweet, innocent weeks at camp when she’d had all the time in the world and an absolute certainty that the future held only happiness. Fame plus rich husband equals happily ever after, right? Adult Erin was finding real life to be a great deal more complicated.

  She glanced at the clock on Lindsey’s microwave, startled to see how late it’d become. “I should get some sleep,” she said reluctantly. “I’m helping with auditions tomorrow. How early do I need to leave to be on time?”

  Lindsey began cleaning up the food wrappers. “The subway traffic is pretty hairy into Manhattan in the mornings. You probably want to leave at least two hours early.”

  A two-hour commute when she was less than ten miles away? Erin groaned. Finding a place in Manhattan would be one of the first things she’d do with her new paycheck.

  **

  Chapter 24

  Matt let Roswell chase him up the stairs to his apartment. When they reached the third floor, Matt turned left, but Roswell turned right and took off down the hall.

  “Hey!”

  But the dog ignored him and Matt quickly saw why: Mrs. Brinkerhoff’s door was open. The noise of conversation drifted toward him, cutting off abruptly when they evidently saw the dog.

  Halle-freaking-lujah, she’s finally back. Matt jogged down the hall and rapped on the doorframe. “Hello?”

  A man stood in the middle of the living room clutching a sheaf of papers to his chest. He was clean shaven and had a sheen of sweat on his forehead where his gray hair had receded. The sleeves of his light blue dress shirt were rolled to the elbows and his rust colored tie was loose round his neck. He watched Roswell warily; the dog stood several feet away, his hackles up and teeth bared.

  “Roswell—no!” Matt ordered. He moved quickly into the room and grabbed the dog’s collar. “Sorry, he’s just excited to be home.” He waited for the guy to call for Mrs. Brinkerhoff while Roswell strained against the collar, trying to get away. Matt dropped his backpack to the floor and fumbled in the front pocket for the leash. “Sit,” he ordered, clipping the leash to the collar. Roswell reluctantly sat.

  Matt eyed the man. Any time now.

  “Is there something I can do for you?” the man finally asked.

  “I’m Matt. Mrs. Brinkerhoff’s neighbor. Is she back?”

  Another man appeared from the kitchen; this one was slightly younger judging by the darker hair, which he wore long and messy. His yellow polo shirt was open at the neck and tucked into a pair of faded jeans.

  The two men exchanged a look at Matt’s words.

  “I’m Carson,” the first man said. “This is my brother Donald. Connie .... Mrs. Brinkerhoff was our mother.”

  “Was?” Matt took a sharp breath.

  “She had a heart attack last month ... at my house,” the younger man said softly, tears shining in his dark eyes. “The coroner thought it must have happened in the middle of the night. When she didn’t come out of her room, I went in and ... found her.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Matt said, stunned. “How terrible.”

  Carson nodded and waved the papers around the room. “It’s been a shock. We’re finally finding the time to go through all her things and get everything in order.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “That’s very kind of you, but no. We’ve got it covered.”

  Matt hesitated. It felt like a bad time to bring it up, but what else could he do? “What about Roswell?”

  “Roswell?” Carson blinked in confusion at the dog. “Is he ...?”

  “Hers? Yes.”

  Donald groaned. “I forgot about the stupid dog. Well, I can’t take him, Sabrina’s allergic.”

  Carson pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay, I guess ...” He looked at his watch. “We have an appointment with Mom’s attorney in half an hour. Could he stay with you one more night, and we can get him in the morning? I’d be happy to pay you for your trouble.”

  “It’s no trouble,” Matt said. “We had a rough couple of days at the beginning, but he’s doing okay now.”

  Carson stuck out his hand. “Thanks a lot. What’s your apartment number? We’ll come by in the morning.”

  Matt gave him the apartment number, and they shook hands . Roswell whimpered in confusion when Matt tried to pull him out of the apartment, but finally he came, head hanging and with his tail between his legs.

  As they reached the door, Matt heard Carson mutter to Donald, “I don’t want that thing either. Add the animal shelter to your list.”

  “He’s purebred,” Matt turned. “He was probably really expensive. I’m sure he’s got papers around here somewhere.” He glanced around the room, as if they could find Roswell’s papers framed on the wall or displayed on the coffee table. Well, given how much Mrs. Brinkerhoff had loved him, it was possible.

  The brothers exchanged a long look. “Do you have time to sell him?” Carson asked. When Donald shook
his head, he turned back to Matt. “We weren’t counting on the dog. I guess someone at the shelter will be lucky to have him.”

  Later that night, when he settled on the couch with Roswell curled up next to him, Matt ran his fingers through the soft white fur. He’d had the dog over a month, and the thought of him leaving brought a sharp ache to Matt’s throat. But what else could he do? His life was blowing up all around him; he didn’t have time for a dog.

  “I’m sorry, boy,” he said softly. Roswell put one paw on Matt’s leg, and the look he gave Matt seemed to say he understood.

  **

  Chapter 25

  Erin found the rehearsal space on 114th Street without much trouble. She was half an hour early, so she loitered in front of the glass-and-steel skyscraper, watching people passing by. Most were dressed in business clothes, but it was easy to spot the tourists with their shopping bags and comfortable shoes. Almost everyone had a cell phone in their hands.

  When the time finally came, she took a deep breath and went inside. The elevator was almost full, and the button for the tenth floor was already lit.

  Several people got off when the doors opened to a rather drab, very crowded reception area. The scene was instantly familiar: men and women with heads bowed, studying their phones and trying to pretend they weren’t nervous. Most held glossy headshots.

  Erin suppressed a grin. It was nice to be on this side of the audition process for once.

  “Erin Parker,” she told the receptionist in maaaybe a louder voice than was necessary, though she immediately felt silly for bragging.

  “Have a seat; they’ll be with you soon,” the woman said, waving her hand around the room.

  “Oh, I’m not here to audition,” Erin protested. “Mona asked me to come read with the actors.”

  The receptionist nodded. “Please have a seat, I’ll check,” she ordered, picking up the phone.

  There were no empty seats, so Erin wormed her way through the crowd to a spot against the wall. She took out her phone and pretended to be busy with it, like everyone else, but she was afire with curiosity wondering who her new co-stars would be. Hopefully not the girl next to her, who smelled like she’d bathed in perfume.

  “Erin Parker,” the receptionist announced after several minutes. Erin tried her best to look humble as she made her way back through the crowd. The receptionist pointed to a long hallway. “Third door on the right.”

  Erin opened the door to find Mona, Jerome Kirby, and a dozen or so people she didn’t know sitting behind a long table. Good grief, were they all from the production company?

  “Hello, Erin,” Mona said pleasantly. “How can we help you?”

  What?

  “I’m here to read,” she said, trying to sound confident.

  Mona said something to a woman with curly red hair, large black glasses, and a clipboard. The woman leafed through several papers and pointed at one. Mona nodded.

  “Erin, we’re sorry. We do have you down to audition at ten, but we’re running behind. If you’ll be patient, we’ll get to you as soon as possible.”

  Wait ... audition?

  “But I’m reading ... with them,” Erin said, fighting to keep her voice steady. She waved her hand toward the hallway, where the room full of hopefuls waited.

  Mona’s brow creased in confusion.

  Erin frequently had a dream where she showed up at the theater only to find it was opening night and she hadn’t memorized any her lines. In the dream, she stood on the stage in the glare of the lights, mute and ashamed as the crowd began booing.

  As awful as the dream could be, this was worse. Much, much worse. She stared at the crowd behind the table. “C-could I speak with you in private, please?” she stammered to Mona, who nodded tersely.

  “What is it?” Mona said when they were in the hallway.

  “I don’t ... I thought ...” Erin took a shaky breath and tried again. “I thought I was Charlotte,” she said.

  Mona’s eyes widened in surprise. “Whatever gave you that idea?”

  “You told me to come at ten for Charlotte,” Erin reminded her, hoping desperately Mona was having some kind of stroke and would snap out of it.

  “Oh ... no! Sweetie, I meant come at ten to audition for Charlotte,” Mona said. “I’m so sorry, you must have misunderstood me.”

  Okay, deep breaths. She could handle this.

  ... Okay, not quite such deep breaths, wouldn’t want to hyperventilate.

  “You said I was in the cast,” Erin wheezed. “We signed contracts.”

  “You are,” Mona said. “We have cast you as Jane. But you are also more than welcome to audition for Charlotte. Just, if you’ll please wait your turn.”

  Jane? Erin tried to think. Didn’t her contract specifically state she was playing the lead? How did she miss something so important?

  Because she was excited and impulsive and didn’t stop long enough to examine everything carefully. She’d made assumptions and plowed ahead like she always did, signing her name on the line without so much as a second thought.

  “Erin? We really need to get back on schedule,” Mona prodded. “If you want to audition for Charlotte, you’re welcome to stay, but as I said, we are running behind.”

  Somehow she nodded. Somehow she made her way back down the hall, through the lobby, and to the ladies room, where she locked herself in a stall. Somehow her phone was in her hand and her fingers were hovering over Matt’s number before she realized what she was doing and shoved it back in her bag.

  She stood still, waiting for the flood of tears to start.

  Only they didn’t. Erin blinked in confusion. Something as terrible as this should trigger a full-on crying jag. So why did she feel ... okay?

  Sure, she was disappointed and sad, but she wasn’t hysterical. She wasn’t going to die; the world wasn’t ending.

  There’d been a mistake, yes. A colossal, awful, humiliating mistake. And yeah, it sucked. But she couldn’t change it. She could either give up, or march in there and give a killer audition.

  What would Matt tell her to do? Maybe she didn’t have his voice over her phone anymore, but she still had it in her head, offering encouragement and praise, telling her she was the best and to go out there and prove it.

  Erin squared her shoulders. She was not going down without a fight.

  **

  Chapter 26

  The play was officially set to open the Monday after Thanksgiving, which canceled Erin’s plans for going home for the holiday. It was a long drive clear to Asheville, North Carolina, for two days.

  “Why don’t you fly?” Brennan suggested. They’d just gotten out of a dress rehearsal and were walking slowly down the street to Erin’s subway stop.

  “Yeah, right,” Erin scoffed. “Thanksgiving is in four days. Even if I could get tickets, they’d cost a fortune.”

  Brennan looped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “It couldn’t hurt to check, right?”

  There was no way she could afford a last minute plane ticket, but he didn’t need to know that. Since her move to New York, they’d spent plenty of time together, but they weren’t exactly boyfriend and girlfriend ... yet.

  Brennan scuffed the heel of his brown leather boots along the icy sidewalk and gazed at the skyscrapers surrounding them. “New York is so pretty in the winter, don’t you think?”

  It was. Despite the cold and the snow making the already narrow sidewalks even narrower and more crowded, Erin loved New York in the winter. They’d been ice skating in Central Park and then gone to Serendipity 3 for frozen hot chocolate, and even though it was a very touristy thing to do, somehow it felt right. As if she was experiencing her first winter in New York the way it was meant to be.

  New York with Brennan was fun ... and expensive. Dinner the other night at Gramercy Tavern had set him back at least three hundred dollars, as had the front row seats at the Thursday performance of Wicked. Erin enjoyed the luxury of it all, but felt guilty about him spend
ing so much money on her. Her parents were well off, but they took pride in their ability to find a bargain. A New York trip with them would have meant dinner at a hot dog stand and tickets in the nosebleed section.

  Brennan wasn’t trying to impress her with money; this as simply how he lived. From his loft in the West Village to his designer clothes, he enjoyed his money and the luxuries it bought.

  She’d never dated anyone with this level of wealth before. Her previous boyfriends were either students, or still relatively new in their careers and did so not have money to blow on grandly expensive dates. Except for Matt ... but most of his money went back into the glass studio.

  Wait ... did she just include Matt on her list of boyfriends?

  Well, he wasn’t. Even though she’d spent far more time with him and knew him better than any of her actual boyfriends. And he knew her better too. With Matt, it was easy to open up and be herself. She was never afraid he’d judge her or criticize the way she’d been with some of the guys she’d dated.

  She sighed. It had been ten weeks since she’d seen Matt, or even talked to him. He’d avoided her after that night in his apartment—when he’d dared talk about love and she’d thrown it back in his face. Sorrow tightened in her chest. The absence of Matt in her life was a hole she couldn’t fill, no matter how hard she tried.

  Why couldn’t she have Matt, but with Brennan’s money and charisma? Or Brennan, but with Matt’s ... everything else?

  “Are you even listening?” Brennan nudged her with his hip.

  “Sorry ... what?” Erin pulled her attention back to New York.

  “I said, be ready to go Tuesday night.”

  “Go where?”

  He laughed. “You really were zoned out. We’re going to your house for Thanksgiving.”

  “Sure we are.” She nodded.

  Brennan sighed theatrically. “Oh ye of little faith. Be ready to go Tuesday night, okay?”