by Meghan March
I’m scanning the room—taking in the former child star, the Oscar winner, the chart-topping pop diva, several TV personalities, and other generally famous people—when I realize something shocking.
They’re all staring at us.
After a few beats, the novelty must wear off because their focus turns back to their conversational partners and drinks.
I look to Cav only to find a hard and forbidding expression on his face. A don’t fuck with me, I’m in the mood to hand you your ass expression.
“Everything okay?” I whisper.
“We’re good.” He doesn’t elaborate on why it was necessary to scare off everyone who dared look in our direction.
“You sure?”
I’m about to ask whether he’s sure this party is a good idea when Windsor comes striding toward us on heels even taller than the ones she lent me. Given that she’s at least five six without them, the heels put her close to six feet. She looks like a blond Amazonian goddess.
“You made it! Oh my God, that dress looks so much better on you than it did on my sister. I hope you don’t mind that it wasn’t one of mine, because I thought this one was the absolute perfect thing.” Her gaze cuts to Cav. “Looking handsome yourself, but not nearly as foxy as your lady.”
Cav’s arm, still curled around me, squeezes instinctively. “That’s as true a statement as I’ve ever heard.”
Finding my manners, I say, “Thank you so much for the dress and the shoes.”
Windsor tilts her head to one side and reminds me so much of my best friend, I feel the need to call Banner right that moment. I miss her.
“I bet he threw a fit when he first saw you in it and then decided to play barbarian all night, just short of stamping his name on your forehead.”
I can’t help but laugh because she hit that one right on the head.
“Something like that.”
Windsor winks at me before glancing at Cav. “Exactly like that, I bet.”
“That’s enough out of you. We’re here, she’s not tossed over my shoulder, so count yourself lucky.”
With a small, feminine shrug, Windsor laughs off his remark and gives us a rundown of the party. “I think everyone I invited decided to tell a friend, so things have gotten a little more out of hand than I’d planned, but I’m not all that surprised. You know how these things go.”
She’s clearly addressing that part to Cav, because I have zero idea how these things go.
“Food is set up in the dining room. There’s the usual smattering of hors d’oeuvres, so help yourselves.” She turns to me. “If you eat, you’ll probably be the only female seen putting anything besides alcohol or a dick in her mouth, but it’d be a nice change of pace.”
My gaze cuts to Cav and a smile plays on his lips. She’s for real. These Hollywood people are nuts.
“Uh, okay. Maybe I’ll break the mold.” After all, Cav and I didn’t exactly stop for food on the way here. And if I do nothing but drink on an empty stomach, I’m going to be awesomely tipsy really, really fast.
“Do that. You look stunning, and maybe some of these stick figures would get a clue that a real man wants a woman he’s not afraid to break.” She pauses for a second, as though considering whether to continue. “And if you have sex in any of the bedrooms, double-check the lock. You know I really don’t want my house to be a breeding ground for sex tapes again.”
Again? My brain is spiraling, trying to keep up with Windsor, my gaze once again darting between her and Cav. I’m waiting for Cav’s response, but a man approaches Windsor, and it takes me a moment to realize it’s a guy from a movie I saw last summer.
“Baby, you’ve gotta give me another chance.”
That’s when it clicks. This is Windsor’s ex that she’s so happy to have out of her life. Apparently, she should have asked for his key back.
Or maybe that’s not how these things work. Hollywood is a different universe, and no one gave me an interloper’s guide to navigating it.
Windsor draws her spine straight and squares her shoulders. “Sean, that’s never going to happen.”
Cav releases my arm and steps beside her. “I think it’s time you leave, man, because you clearly weren’t invited.”
“Fuck off, Westman. You can’t be her guard dog forever.” The man, Sean, flicks his gaze from Cav to Windsor to me. “Besides, looks like you’ve got a woman of your own finally. Maybe I should take her from you and see how you like it.”
He’s reaching out a hand toward me when Cav wraps his arm around my waist. “That’s a bullshit statement and you know it.”
“Bullshit or not, it sounds fair to me.” The man’s hand hangs in midair, waiting for me to shake it. “I’m Sean France—”
“He’s a douche who couldn’t keep his pants zipped around twenty-year-old girls the entire time we were married,” Windsor interrupts. “And she’s just a touch too old to be part of your target demographic, Sean. Move on, or I’m pretty sure you’re going to be needing another rhinoplasty after Cav is finished with you. Leave now before I have security toss you out and this gets embarrassing.”
In the face of so many threats, it would take a real man to stand his ground, but Sean France glares at all of us and walks away.
“He’s not on your list. How the hell did he get through the door?” Cav asks.
Windsor shrugs, her attention following the man’s movements. She clucks her tongue and we all turn. “Probably with her.”
Sean stops at the side of a stick figure of a girl who looks like she’s not quite old enough to drink despite the tiny dress, perfectly styled hair, and smoky eye makeup. Without a word, he grabs her hand and drags her toward the door.
“He really is a douchebag,” I say, not even conscious I’m speaking the words until both Cav and Windsor turn to me.
“He really is,” Windsor agrees, following the couple’s progress to the front door. “And good riddance to them both. She’s too young and stupid to realize that she’s going to be too old for him to find sexy in about six months. He’s got this weird slightly pedophile kink where he’s always looking for the younger chick. It’s creepy.”
Sympathy for Windsor having been married to a guy like that wells up inside me. It doesn’t matter who you are or how perfect your life seems from the outside, things can always be broken and fucked up on the inside.
“Enough of that downer. I’m going to make the rounds and check that everyone is having a wonderful time, alert security so Sean doesn’t get back in regardless of who he has with him, and find myself a distraction for the evening. You kids have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” She smiles at us and strides away with a little backward wave.
“Is she okay?” I ask Cav.
He’s watching Windsor walk away, her laughter already ringing out, a little too bright and cheerful.
“She’s a trouper. She and Sean have been split for a long time, but the guy can’t seem to stay out of her face. It’s not even that he wants her back, honestly. I think he just misses having the security of her covering for him and the ease of having someone else run his life. It’s unusual for these Hollywood marriages not to be straight fucked up.”
“Is that why you didn’t run out and marry the first famous chick who fell for you?” My question is a quip, off the cuff.
Cav’s eyes, looking steel-gray against his gray dress shirt tonight, cut to mine. “You already know the answer to that.” When I don’t respond immediately, he closes both his hands over mine and pulls our arms out wide until our bodies press together. “I was hung up on one particular woman, and she wasn’t in Hollywood. Nothing here could compare to the hold you’ve had on me from day one, Greer. You still don’t get it.”
Cav’s words are serious and completely at odds with the high-pitched laughter and conversation going on around us.
I don’t know what to say, but I’m wishing we were anywhere but in the middle of Windsor’s palatial home. I want to be back at his place, watching
another movie without this crowd around us. Maybe pausing in the middle so he can bend me over the back of the couch and assuage the ache that continues to build inside me. Just the thought has me pressing my legs tightly together.
As usual, Cav doesn’t miss a thing. “Aw, my baby girl still feeling the edge?”
I lean close. “You know you left me hanging. That was plain mean.”
His eyes darken. “Don’t think I’ll leave you hanging for long. Now, let’s make an attempt at being sociable so you can get the full experience, and then I’ll take care of you.”
The I’ll take care of you is the only part of that sentence my greedy body cares about. I should probably be more intrigued by the famous people tipping back drinks, uncaring who sees them acting ridiculous.
We’ve only gone a few feet when it hits me—this is their safe zone. Windsor’s house is their haven. No one is going to out them for acting that way here, I assume, within reason, so this is the place they let it all hang out.
It makes a certain sort of sense. Back in New York, there are certainly parties where I’ve felt the same way. When all the guests are part of a similar social and economic stratosphere, things get a little wilder than normal.
Windsor’s home is a large square, with a mammoth courtyard in the center dominated by a sparkling blue pool, a hot tub, and several seating areas. A young couple is in the pool, and the woman has the man pressed up against the corner. Both of them are still fully clothed but completely soaked. In the hot tub, several women cluster around an older gentleman who I don’t recognize as being in any films. But given the harem he’s attracted and how they’re pawing over him, he must be someone of note.
“Who’s that?” I ask quietly, and Cav follows my line of sight.
“One of the top studio producers. Those girls are all B- and C-list actresses hoping to hop up on the A-train, and they know he gets a major say in casting all of the movies for a certain hot director.”
“Is that normal?”
“For that particular producer and director, it is. They’ve been working together for twenty years, so it’s a pretty well-known fact at this point.” Cav turns us away as a woman climbs on the man’s lap like she’s about to ride him. “And he’s fresh out of a divorce, so they’re looking to take advantage of it.”
In my opinion, it’s the older man taking advantage of the younger women, but I guess my instincts are screwed up here. Maybe it’s the women who are the predators in this situation. Everyone has a motive. It’s really not all that different from New York.
We go back into the house through another open door, and I fall more in love with Windsor’s place with every step. Yes, it’s way too big for one person, but it gives off this airy vibe of being on a constant vacation. I love it. It’s so different from my apartment and the street noise that I can’t escape, even way up in my ivory tower. I know I’m lucky to not be living in a shoebox-sized place in the city, but even the most expensive penthouses in New York can’t come close to competing with this.
Cav leads me into the dining room and the decadent spread of food along a buffet. It’s virtually untouched, which surprises me more than I let on. Even if the stick-thin women are going to turn their I’ll just have a wheatgrass smoothie noses up at this, why aren’t the men eating?
A quick survey of the room shows that the lines at the bar service are dominated by men, so apparently they’re all more worried about drinking than eating.
Cav has no such reservations. He grabs two plates and hands me one. “You’re not drinking on an empty stomach.”
“I’m going to be the only female eating in this entire place.”
Cav shrugs. “Fuck ’em, Greer. You don’t need to impress anyone. You’re already the most beautiful woman here. The guys can’t keep their eyes off you, and if I make it out of here tonight without putting my fist through someone’s face, I’ll count myself lucky.” He reaches for the first set of tongs. “Eat, woman.”
“Fine.”
The choices are decadent enough to rival one of Creighton’s parties. I stick to the veggies and seafood, and Cav loads up on meats and cheese. He grabs us both a drink before we set up at one of the tall tables lining the side of the room. They’re all empty except for ours.
Cav doesn’t seem to care at all, though. He digs into his plate with gusto. I’ve honestly never seen a man eat so much or so often as he does, but it explains why most of the guys I know don’t look anything like him. I assume it takes a lot of protein to keep his physique intact.
It’s almost laughable now when I think of Tristan. Tristan who could wear skinny jeans and be in no danger of sporting a dick print. I can’t even imagine Cav trying to get them on. He’d probably bust the legs wide open. And for sure, there’d be no room for the equipment he’s packing.
Speaking of his equipment . . . my gaze dips below his belt as he digs into his food.
“Eyes up here. You’re not getting the D until I’m ready to give it to you.”
My gaze snaps up to his. “How do you even know what I was thinking? I could’ve just been admiring . . . the fine craftsmanship of your belt.”
“Stole it from costume off a set. And we both know you’re full of it.”
I roll my eyes and grab a shrimp off my plate. “I’m not full of anything right now, if you’ll recall.”
Cav waits until I’m done chewing my food before he leans close and speaks low into my ear. “You’re gonna be full of something as soon as we finish eating.”
His words have an immediate physical effect on me, and now everyone at this fancy Hollywood party is going to get a phenomenal view of my hard nipples.
Before I can reply, another man stops by the table. I cross one arm over my chest in what I hope is a casual rather than defensive-looking posture.
“Where the hell have you been, man? Been trying to track you down for poker night for weeks. It’s like you fell off the damn planet.”
The man is probably an inch taller than Cav, and is as light as my man is dark. Sun-bleached blond hair gives the guy the look of a surfer. I can’t recall his name, but Cav clearly knows him well because they do that half-handshake, half-backslapping hug that must be encoded in male DNA.
“Bohannon, good to see you, man.”
Ah, that’s right. His name is Silas Bohannon, and I remember him as a surfer because that’s what he was in his last big movie.
“You gonna introduce me to this gorgeous woman?” he says, his aqua eyes on me.
“Not sure I should. You’re a little too smooth with the ladies.”
From his easy manner with Silas, Cav clearly isn’t worried, but still the words give me a hint that this very attractive man has no trouble finding female company.
“She’s safe from me. I’ve got my eye on a spitfire I haven’t been able to pin down.”
Silas’s attention drifts, and I follow his line of sight as it lands squarely on Windsor.
Hmm. Interesting. I can’t imagine she’d be stubborn enough to say no to this much man in her life . . . especially now that I’ve gotten an up close and personal look at pedophile Sean.
“Bo, this is Greer. Greer, Bo.”
I shake his hand, but it’s clear his mind isn’t on meeting me, despite being personable and polite. Cav notices his distraction as well.
“Persistence, Bo. She’s gonna give you a hell of a fight. You know she doesn’t want anything to do with another guy from this world.”
“She’s fucking wrong if she thinks we’re all like limp-dick Sean.”
I toss in my two cents without thought or invitation. “I might be overstepping here, but sometimes a woman just needs to know what it’s like to have a real man in her life. Especially if all she’s ever known is the limp-dicked variety. Don’t ask permission. Don’t apologize. Just man up and go after what you want.”
Both Cav and Bo’s heads swing around to me in surprise, and honestly, I’m a little shocked by the words coming out of my mouth. Before C
av, I would have never said something like that. I guess that’s proof of the changes he has brought into my life.
“A real man, huh?” Bo glances from me to Cav. “You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”
“Maybe,” I admit.
Cav wraps his arm around my shoulders. “She knows exactly what she’s talking about. Her advice isn’t bad, but we both know Win won’t be easily persuaded. Have you ever thought about kidnapping?”
I elbow Cav in the ribs, and he coughs when I make contact.
“Don’t listen to him. She’d be a hundred times more likely to shank you than screw you if you kidnap her.”
Bo’s eyes narrow, and he looks from me to Cav. “Do I even want to know?”
I shake my head. “Just put that option out of your mind. I promise you, it’s best for your continued long-term health.”
Silence falls over the three of us until Bo speaks again. “What about tossing her over my shoulder and carrying her out so I’ve finally got her attention?”
I purse my lips and consider, wondering if the perfectly coifed Windsor would freak. She seems pretty damn cool, but you never know how someone is going to react to being manhandled. Who knew I’d freaking love it?
“You can give it a try.”
Cav adds his opinion. “I say go for it. Greer’s right—Win doesn’t know what it’s like not be in control twenty-four/seven. She might actually respond well to that.”
Bo’s mouth turns up in a sly smile. “I get the same vibe. I’ll let you know how it goes.” He nods to me. “Good to meet you, Greer. I trust you’ll keep this guy in line.”
“I’ll do my best.”
And then Bo is gone, heading in Windsor’s direction.
“Is she ready for what’s coming her way?”
Cav shakes his head. “No. Win’s been living in her own little world for too long now. It’s time she rejoins the rest of us in the real world. But Bo’s got his work cut out for him. She’s as resistant as any woman I’ve ever met to the idea of getting into another relationship. That’s why it was so easy for us to be friends.”