by E V Darcy
‘Paige!’ he said—more of a squeak really—as he spun around to face her. He didn’t get to say anything else, before a perfectly frosted cupcake was shoved in his face. The group of men collectively grimaced as they realised she’d overheard.
‘You lying little shit!’ she snarled at Tristan as he tried to process what the hell had just happened. ‘What the hell have you been telling people? We have never slept together! I told you when we first met that I only wanted to be friends!’
‘Paige, I—’
‘No!’ she shouted as she squared up to him. It was laughable really, her tiny five foot one inch frame against his six foot plus, but she wasn’t going to let him get away with this. ‘How fucking dare you spread lies! You’re ruining my reputation!’
‘Paige, maybe we can—’ his words were cut off by another cupcake being rammed between his lips.
‘Go fuck yourself,’ she told him, dropping the box of cakes on the floor between them. ‘Because that’s all you’ve been doing anyway!’
A sharp intake of breath sounded from the group behind Tristan as Paige turned and walked away. She was furious. How could he? How dare he? What gave him the right to—
‘What the hell!’ Paige said as a hand under her elbow suddenly grabbed her. She glanced up to see a frosting covered, red-faced Tristan at her back, pushing her forward, diverting her from her previous direction. ‘Tristan—’
‘Smile,’ he said through gritted teeth, a tight smile on his face. ‘Fucking smile, and don’t say a word until we’re alone.’
The anger drained out of her and a cold sliver of fear ran through her as he yanked her into an empty room and closed the door behind them.
The slam of a door made Casey glance towards the far wall of the small, quiet room he had hidden in to get away from Tristan’s gang of groupies. He had found this hidey-hole the first day of filming and claimed it for his own when he couldn’t be arsed to go back to his trailer but needed respite from his co-star and all the other idiots on this set. How they couldn’t see the younger star for what he was, Casey had no clue.
The guy had no class or dignity, and certainly had zero respect for Paige from the way he talked about her. It more than rankled him, hearing the bastard bragging about what they did, how they did it, and how many times. He knew Paige had a healthy sexual appetite, but, God, it sounded like pregnancy had ramped it up by a thousand times! It was surprising she hadn’t broken the younger actor’s cock the way he described their sex life.
He shook his head to dismiss the thoughts of Tristan and Paige, and turned his attention back to his book when muffled shouting came through the wall. He frowned at the white plaster again, wondering who was disturbing his small slice of peace and quiet.
‘Don’t you dare speak to me that way in front of people!’ Tristan’s voice was muffled, but Casey could just make out the words. He wondered what poor soul was getting it in the neck from the man. There was a pause, and Casey assumed whoever it was, was trying to defend themselves.
‘No! You will listen to me!’ the star snapped again, and Casey shut his book. He had to go and save the poor thing. He sighed as he put his novel down and made his way from his little piece of heaven, but as soon as he dealt with the irate prick, the sooner he’d have peace and quiet again.
He didn’t bother with knowing on the door; instead he eased it open to peek through and see who the guy was laying into. He couldn’t see the person; Tristan stood in front of them, blocking them from view, but Casey froze as he recognised the voice that was arguing with the star.
‘You were telling them lies, Tristan!’ Paige’s voice was high-pitched, clearly distressed by what they were discussing. ‘You were making me out to be a whore!’
‘You’d be lucky to be fucking me, Paige,’ the man shouted. ‘Anyone would kill to be in your position, and I’ve been patient, waiting for you to decide you’re ready, that you’re over Casey, but telling them we’re waiting isn’t going to look good to the guys!’
‘I don’t give a shit how you look to the guys, you fucker! We’re not waiting! I don’t want to screw you, Tristan! I wanted to be friends. I told you that the first time we met!’ Casey winced at the shrill pitch and was so grateful he wasn’t standing any closer—he feared his eardrums might burst.
‘I have spent far too long working on you Paige, helping your little show, boosting your ratings, making sure you’re news, for you not to be invested in us—’
‘There is no us! And there never will be! I told you I’m not over—’ A grunt of pain ended her sentence as the resounding slap echoed throughout the room.
Casey reacted instantly. He was across the room, turning Tristan around and punching him in the face before he even thought through what he was doing. Later, he would realise that he’d have acted the same regardless.
Tristan stumbled back, only just avoiding Paige—who was holding her reddening cheek with her hand—before he hit the floor.
Paige stared up at Casey with wide, unbelieving eyes.
‘Don’t you dare raise your hand to her or any woman, you arrogant shithead! he shouted at the disorientated man. ‘Do not contact her again, or I will end your career!’ Casey told the younger star. He took immense satisfaction at the blood smeared across Tristan’s face; he hoped the man’s nose was ruined.
‘C’mon, Paige’—Casey turned to the surprised woman, offering his hand to her—‘let’s get out of here.’
She took it with a slight aura of awe as she continued to gaze up at him.
They said nothing more as they left the room.
‘Has he ever done that before?’ Casey asked hotly as he pretty much dragged her across the lot’s yard. She shook her head, unable to find her voice, still so shocked that Tristan—sweet, funny, light-hearted Tristan—had struck her!
‘I swear, Paige,’ he started again, grinding to a halt and turning back to look at her. He dropped her hand to run it through his hair in frustration. ‘If you’re protecting him—’
‘I am not!’ she snapped at him as she came alive once more. She pushed past him and marched onwards; heading towards the gates, hoping the security team would be able to call her a taxi.
‘Where are you going?’ Casey hurried to her side and from the corner of his eye she saw his panicked expression. ‘You can’t go home, he knows where you live!’
That stopped her dead in her tracks.
Shit. He did. How many times had Tristan picked her up for what she assumed were just friendly outings? She’d assumed he was a gentleman saving her from a life of solitude, introducing her to a new social circle here in the city… the city clearly built on total and utter bullshit if this was any indication.
‘Well, I’m not scared of him.’ She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath before marching onwards again. Like fuck, she wasn’t. Her apartment building had no security, so if the bastard wanted to get right up to her door, he’d have no problem. All he’d have to do is smile at one of her neighbours and he’d be let up.
Fuckity, fuck, fuck, fuck.
‘Paige!’ Casey called as he hurried forward to her again. ‘Don’t be stupid.’
‘I was already fucking stupid for thinking he wanted to just be my friend,’ she mumbled, as she approached security. She paused her step when the door to the block swung open and the scarily huge man that Casey called a bodyguard stepped out.
‘Julian,’ Casey said with a hint of relief in his voice. ‘Tell Paige she can’t go home.’ The man looked at the pair of them with confusion, unsure if he should follow or question his orders.
‘Ignore him, Julian,’ she said, brushing him off. ‘He’s being a jerk.’
‘Oh, really?’ Casey grabbed her arm and turned her to face him. ‘Who the hell just stopped that prick kicking the shit out of you?’
‘He slapped me, Casey, he wasn’t beating me to a pulp.’
‘Because I stopped him!’
She sighed as they stood staring at one another, neith
er wanting to back down. As much as she’d been thrilled by Casey coming to her rescue, saving her like a knight in shining armour, she didn’t need anyone to do that for her. The moment she’d recovered from the shock of the smack, she’d have kneed the bastard in the balls before spraying him with the pepper-spray she carried in her bag.
‘Excused me, ma’am.’ The security guard at the Reception interrupted their stare-off. ‘But can I enquire as to who assaulted you?’
‘It wasn’t—’
‘Tristan Swift.’ Casey cut off her protest. ‘And it was assault, Paige. I can’t believe you’re trying to brush it off. He’s bruised you…’ Casey reached up and brushed the back of his fingers across her still-stinging cheek. She flinched as the merest pressure made her entire cheek feel on fire again. Shit, Tristan really had smacked her good.
She just didn’t want Casey to know that she needed him, not after the way he’d walked off the night before.
Although, if he’d thought she was with Tristan like that…
‘Did you think I was screwing him?’ she asked. ‘No bullshit,’ she reminded him, pointing her finger to emphasis she was serious. He blinked at the suddenly change of topic, pulling his lips between his teeth as he considered her question.
Fuck, he was trying to be careful how he answered. He totally had thought it. What the hell had Tristan been saying? What did Casey think she’d been doing with the other man?
She groaned and stepped towards one of the reception seats, throwing herself into it and covering her face with her hands in embarrassment—she made sure her left hand didn’t touch her cheek.
‘Kitten, I’m sorry,’ he said quietly taking the seat next to her. His fingers carefully wrapped around her wrists and gently lowered her hands from her face, but she kept her eyes closed, unable to look at him. ‘The guy… he didn’t give us any reason not to believe him and I know you’re…’ he paused to search for the word.
‘A whore.’ She supplied it for him with a whisper.
‘God, no!’
‘But you must think that,’ she said as she opened her eyes and met his. ‘You thought I went back to Daniel, and then you believed Tristan as soon as he told his wild tales.’
‘I…’ She could see the moment when he realised that she spoke the truth and that he’d branded her with such a brush. He looked devastated at the thought, his face falling and his hands slipping from hers.
‘Fuck, Paige, I’m so sorry.’ He rubbed his hand over his mouth as he turned away from her. ‘I’m a complete arsehole.’
‘Miss Hamilton,’ another voice interrupted before she could reply. She turned to look up at the head of security staring down at her. ‘I understand you’ve been struck by someone on the lot. Would you come this way, so I can get some details?’ He glanced at Casey at her side before adding, ‘Mr. McManaman can join you if you wish.’
‘Look, I don’t want to make—’
‘Paige,’ Casey said, his voice quiet and low as he turned back to her. He looked crushed, Paige thought as she took him in. ‘Please, report it. It is a big deal. What would your friend Deanna say?’
Paige frowned at that. Damn him. He knew her far too well; Deanna would kick Paige’s ass up and down the studio lot if she found out Paige was trying to brush this off.
‘Fine,’ she sighed and pushed herself up from her chair. ‘But you stay here,’ she told him. He nodded before she turned and left the room with the security guard.
21
Casey drove the DB9 down the Pacific Coast Highway in silence, listening to the sound of the tyres on the road and Paige’s soft breathing.
She had looked so forlorn when she’d come out of the security offices. She’d melted his heart when she’d peered at him meekly, told him she had nowhere else to go but to her apartment. All her friends—well, more like people she’d met—in LA were Tristan’s.
‘Not all of them,’ he’d said with a gentle smile. He’d held out his hand and she’d taken it. He hadn’t had to say anything more as they climbed into his car and started out of the lot.
There was only one place he wanted her; in his home.
No. In his bed.
His fingers flexed on the steering wheel at the idea of her lying between his sheets. She’d wake up slowly, her eyes flickering open, and as her gaze met his, a sleepy smile would grace her lips. She’d stretch her body, her arms over her head, breasts pushing upwards as she arched her back against the mattress. The action would make the sheet slide over them, teasing her nipples into hard buds before falling away completely and displaying them to him.
‘Morning,’ she’d murmur, her voice still roughened by sleep, making it husky. He’d lean down to capture her lips in a delicious kiss, his hand sliding over her rounding stomach and up to her breasts, to trace the small, hard nub with his thumb and make her moan softly into his mouth, encouraging him to do more, to—
A horn blared at him from the next lane as the other car swerved to avoid his drifting vehicle; it snapped him back to reality with a hard jerk of the steering wheel to put them back into one lane. His burgeoning erection quickly wilted as his heart raced for a completely different reason, for a change.
‘What the hell?’ Paige asked at the jerk of the car, her head springing up from where it had rested on her hand as she gazed out of the window. ‘What was that?’
He rubbed one of his hands down his face and took a deep breath. Shit, he could have killed someone. He gripped the wheel tightly as he put both hands back on it, keeping his eyes focused on the road in front.
‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘I guess I’m more tired after last night than I thought.’
‘You drifted off?’
‘A little,’ he admitted, glancing at her from only the corner of his eye.
‘Are you okay? Should you pull over?’ He shook his head, keeping his eyes on the road. ‘Is there far to go? I think you should pull over. I could drive.’
He scoffed at that. There was no way in hell he was letting anyone drive his car. If the Queen knocked on his door and asked to have a spin he’d tell her the exact same thing he uttered to Paige, ‘No fucking way. No one drives Debbee but me.’
‘Debbie?’ she asked, giving him a completely unimpressed look. ‘That’s a crap name for this beauty.’
‘It’s Debbee, not Debbie. And you leave her alone.’
She gave a little humph before turning back to looking out of her window. Not that there was much to really see, bar a wall of homes obscuring the view. He saw her brows draw into a frown. ‘Where are we now?’ she asked.
‘Malibu; we just passed the pier, that’s The Colony,’ he told her, nodding to the houses on their left, blocking the view of the ocean that he enjoyed from his own home. While he adored waking up and peering out over the vast ocean, he did feel it a shame its beauty couldn’t be seen by everyone as they drove. Although, if it caused distractions like his own back there, perhaps it was a good thing the rich and famous had gobbled up the landscape.
‘I thought I’d be able to see the beach by now.’
He scoffed at the remark and began explaining about the history of the area and the attempts of the stars to try to make the beach—that was completely public—into their exclusive playground with fake signs and fences erected between their million-dollar pads.
‘That’s terrible!’ she exclaimed. He merely shrugged his shoulders. His home backed onto the beach, but it wasn’t directly. There was a road between the wall of his back garden and the sand, that led to some of the other houses in his gated community. The gate was the only way to ensure any privacy in this city, but he certainly wouldn’t stop anyone from taking time to enjoy the sands.
A few minutes later, just as he reached the security gates of his neighbourhood, Paige suddenly realised the flaw in their plan.
‘I don’t have any of my things!’
He merely smiled; he’d already thought of that. ‘I sent Julian to your place. He’ll grab the essentials; if you want anythi
ng in particular, let me know and you can call him and ask him to get it.’ He paused for a moment, licking his lips as he debated if he should say what he wanted.
‘Spit it out.’
‘I kinda want Tristan to turn up while he’s there.’
He smiled at her chuckle as he drove towards his home.
Her first thoughts as they slipped through the gates that protected the rich and famous from the regular schmucks, was that this wasn’t real. She had somehow stepped into a movie and the houses were cardboard facades.
House upon gorgeous house lined the street as they drove through, an indulgent display of wealth and peacock-strutting as one house tried to out do the other.
‘That’s Brosnan’s,’ Casey said. He pointed to a mansion on her side and Paige couldn’t help but gape at the building. It was huge!
‘Mine’s nothing like that,’ he chuckled. ‘I didn’t get the James Bond gig… this time,’ he added with a wink. ‘Craig’s promised me he’ll tell me when he’s decided he’s doing his last one, and he’ll put in a good word for me, but I doubt I’ll even get a look-in.’ His words were meant to be light, but Paige couldn’t help but detect the hint of bitterness laced through them; had Bond been something that he really wanted? She frowned.
She hadn’t really thought of him being denied anything career-wise, as he had the air of always getting exactly what he wanted. She always figured that if he had actually wanted some of the roles he’d been linked to, he’d have got them. She believed his laughing off the rumours of being the next Bond, or being tagged as the name for the upcoming adaptation of the best-selling Glyn West novels was his way of saying he wasn’t interested.
She tried to recall what he’d mentioned about his career during their time under the hotel together, but she couldn’t remember him talking about it in any depth, other than who he’d slept with on each production, what his co-stars were like, which services provided the best food… Not bullshit per se but certainly superficial stuff in the grand scheme of things. She needed to change all that.