Hollywood Love_Book 15

by Jillian Dodd

  “Over the course of the last two years, I’ve struggled with grief and guilt. I’ve struggled with the realities of being a single parent. I quit a job I loved and immersed myself in my girls’ lives because I thought they needed me. But, looking back, I realize I needed them.

  “I know we’ve all been in your prayers. I know you all wonder how we’ve been coping. How the girls are. How her parents are. I want to tell you that, slowly, we’re healing. And, as I took the stage tonight, I realized that, even though this event was created to celebrate Whitney’s life, it’s been more about those she left behind.

  “Tonight, I want to change that. I want to honor her memory. My wife was smart and beautiful and confident. She fiercely loved our children. And we need to honor her with truth.

  “I first fell in love with Whitney when I was just fourteen, a freshman at boarding school. She was magnetic and graceful, and if I had to describe her in one word, it would be that she had presence. On the surface, she had it all.

  “As the trustee of her foundation as well as the man who loved her for much of his life, I need to tell you something. I need to tell you the truth. I need to tell you about the Whitney you didn’t know because not bringing to light why she died means we aren’t doing our part. What many of you don’t know is that Whitney struggled with depression.

  “When she was a senior in high school, she tried to commit suicide. Whatever you have been told about Whitney’s death, I’m sure we can all agree it was senseless. But the fact that it wasn’t accidental makes it even more so. Whitney wanted to die. Just think about that for a minute. This beautiful woman who had a wonderful life and a loving family wanted to die.

  “We all have struggles. There were times I wished I could disappear, but on the very few times that thought crossed my mind, it would quickly be replaced with rational thoughts, like knowing I could never do that to my family. Maybe that rational thought happened because I’d never really been in that much pain.

  “Whitney was on medication, but there were good and bad days, lots of ups and downs. Many of you know that Whitney’s brother-in-law was recently sentenced to many years in prison. You have all probably seen the papers and know how much money he lost. What you don’t know is that Whitney invested everything we had with him. And she lost it all—my retirement fund and the monies from my trust, her trust. All of it was wiped out.

  “As all of us do when we lose money, we feel pretty badly, but after the initial shock and outrage, we do what humans do best. We persevere, we adjust our lifestyle, we work harder to earn more, we figure something out.

  “But it doesn’t work that way for a person who is already struggling with depression. She didn’t tell me the extent of the loss, only admitted to taking a little hit in our portfolio. For months, she hid the truth from me. It wasn’t until the bank was threatening foreclosure on our house because she hadn’t been making the payments did she tell me. I was pissed. Understandably upset. I couldn’t believe she had risked our future like that. I stormed off, but once I got over the initial shock, I began to take action. I told her it would be okay. That we’d figure it out. At that point, it was like a weight had lifted from her shoulders.

  “For one week, everything was good. She seemed happy. But she wasn’t.

  “On the day she passed, she sent our children to my parents’ for the night, so we could share a romantic evening together. Only, when I got home, I found her in the garage—with the car running.”

  He stops, gets his wallet out of his suit jacket, and pulls out a folded up piece of paper.

  “This is the note that she left. I’ve carried it with me every day since to remind myself that, no matter how bad things might seem, life is precious. I’d like to read to you what she said.”

  He unfolds the paper. “My dearest Dawson, I once read that suicide is selfish. That, by taking my life, I’ll be leaving you to clean up the mess—literally, financially, and emotionally. I’m sorry for the pain this will cause you, but your love for me is what’s gotten me through for as long as it has. You don’t deserve this. Our sweet girls don’t deserve this. But I know, in the long run, you will all be better off without having to deal with the sadness I perpetually carry in my heart. Please don’t tell the girls that I took my own life. Please don’t let them question my love, for it’s my love for them that makes this right.”

  Tears stream down my face as he speaks, and I understand even more why this has been so hard for him—because he’s been forced to lie about it.

  He wipes the tears from his face, folds the paper back up, and slips it back into his wallet. “I blamed myself. I should have seen the signs. I should have known. I should have stopped it.

  “Since then, for nearly two full years, I’ve focused my life solely on the one thing that was important to her—our children. My family told me that I had to get over it. I had to start living my life. That I wasn’t actually setting a good example for my children.

  “Last month, an old friend offered me a position in California. I met an amazing woman who lost her own mother to suicide and who helped me understand that I need to let go of the guilt. Starting today, I’m doing just that.

  “The money we raise tonight will honor Whitney in a different way—by being truthful about why she died rather than covering it up. We’ll be teaming up with Moon Wish Wine to help spread the word about depression and its dangers and to create resources for families. If we can stop just one mother from taking her own life, then I will not just be taking care of Whitney’s children, as she wanted me to do, but other children. Thank you so much for your continued support.”

  He lowers his head and takes a deep breath, and the music starts playing again.

  “They’re lies. All lies!” Whitney’s mother screams out, breaking down and dramatically dropping to the floor.

  Dawson rushes to help her.

  “Don’t you touch me!” she yells. “You were a horrible husband and are a horrible father. I will sue you for defamation. For custody of your children! You’ll never see them again! You don’t deserve them! You will not ruin my daughter’s good name with this nonsense. You’re fired from the foundation.”

  Dawson stands there in horror. The moving speech he just gave, quickly forgotten.

  A good-looking, tall, older gentleman, whom I have yet to meet, gets into the fray. I don’t know who he is, but he has presence.

  “You wouldn’t face the truth about our daughter’s depression during her life,” he says to Mrs. Clarke, pulling her upright. “Now, you don’t have a choice.” He turns to Dawson and shakes his hand. “I’m proud of you, son. It took courage to do what you just did, and I fully support you.” He gives Mrs. Clarke a glare. “And I won’t let my ex-wife stand in your way.”

  “Well, that was an exciting night,” Riley says later as we get in the car that will be taking us back to their parents’ home.

  “I still feel bad that I upset Mrs. Clarke,” Dawson says, running his hand back through his hair with a sigh.

  “She’s an old bitch,” Riley counters. “She deserved it.”

  “No, she didn’t, Riley,” I say. “She’s a mother who lost her daughter. She’s still in pain.”

  I run my hand down Dawson’s arm, comforting him. Regardless of how well he seemed to handle things, I can tell he’s a mess inside—something his brother is too stupid to see.

  “I thought you handled it well, Dawson. Maybe upsetting her this one time will help her face the truth. Maybe she’ll turn out to be your biggest supporter. Maybe she just needed her world flipped to reality.”

  “That would be nice,” he says softly. “And, if she wants to see her grandchildren, she’s going to have to shape up.”

  When we get home, Dawson pulls me into the bedroom and kisses me hard.

  “Thank you,” he says.

  “Oh, thank you,” I reply, grinning. “What did I do to deserve a kiss like that?”

  “Because you flipped my world to a wonderful reality.
Thank you again for coming with me tonight. For being by my side.”

  “I love you, Dawson. By your side is exactly where I should be.”

  He slips the strap of my dress off my shoulder and delicately runs his hand down my spine. “And I was thinking, inside you is exactly where I should be.”

  Friday, October 31st

  Bam’s Castle - Turin, Italy

  SHELBY

  It’s Halloween, a holiday I never cared for—mostly because I could never afford a costume. But this Halloween is different. I feel like I’m inside a fairytale—living in a castle, wearing an elaborate off-the-shoulder designer gown with a fitted waist and a sweeping, full skirt in a soft, shimmering pink ombre, and going to a masked ball. I made Juan leave before he saw my dress, thinking of how utterly romantic it will be when he first catches a glimpse of me.

  I pick up my skirt so I don’t trip and make my way to the ballroom. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before, not even in the movies. Who goes to a masked ball on Halloween in a real castle?

  Me, apparently. I can’t help but grin as I float through the room searching for my love, but I discover he’s hard to find. While the women’s dress styles vary widely, the men are a little harder to tell apart.

  I assumed Juan would be at my side the second I stepped into the room, but I also know that the anticipation of him finding me is a huge turn on. I step in front of a large banquet table filled with more food than I’ve ever seen in one place and am contemplating where to start when Juan’s sister, Nina, comes up next to me and says, “I suggest you starve yourself before the wedding, or you’ll never fit into your dress.”

  “Why would I do that?” Of all of Juan’s family, Nina seems to have a chip on her shoulder. You’d think a woman used to such wealth and excess would never want for anything and would be perpetually happy, but she’s not. She’s catty and underhanded. I’m pretty sure when Juan’s father spoke last night of trusting people in business, he was warning him about Nina’s disruptive personality. “I have a fast metabolism and I’ve always been able to eat whatever I want. I guess I’m just lucky,” I say, letting my eyes wander to Nina’s midsection, which is a bit thick.

  “How old are you?” she asks.

  “Twenty-three. Why?”

  “Your body is fake.” She scrunches up her nose at me in disgust. Which is sort of funny, considering the amount of plastic surgery her mother has surely had. And based on the frown lines across her forehead because of her perpetual scowl, I’m betting she’ll be the next in line for the plastic surgeon.

  I look down at my boobs, assuming that’s what she is referring to. “Actually, Nina, there is nothing on me that isn’t God given. And there is not an ounce of flab on my body. I work hard and eat healthy to insure that. Hashtag blessed.”

  “Yeah, right,” she snaps. “Bam’s ex-wife was rail thin and his last girlfriend was a super model.”

  “I’ll have you know that I’ve worn numerous designer gowns”—okay, really three, but she doesn’t need to know that—“on the red carpet. They fit quite lovely.”

  “Then you are a gold digger. I don’t know how you managed to get your claws into my brother, but I don’t like you. And I speak for my entire family.”

  “Actually,” I say with a smirk, “if I understand correctly, it is you who is a gold digger.”

  She’s taken aback and puts her hand up to her flat chest. “How can you even say that? I was born into—”

  “Your family owns a gold mine, correct?”

  “Yes,” she mutters, still looking perplexed.

  “And how do they get it out of the mine?” I ask.

  “They excavate it.”

  “Exactly. They dig. That makes your family gold diggers, literally.”

  I hear Juan burst out in laughter. “Just one of the many reasons I am in love with you,” he says, wrapping his arms around me before turning his attention to his sister. “Nina, what you said to my future bride was inappropriate and rude. Apologize immediately.” He looks at his sister with contempt.

  “I call them as I see them. And if you think you can come in and take over the business that you’ve never paid any attention to your whole life, you’re wrong.”

  Juan releases me, strides toward his sister, and grabs her arm tightly. He does nothing but stare at her for a few moments. Then he says, “You will respect me as head of the family as well as my wife. And if you don’t, not only will you not have a job, I will see to it that you and your free-spending husband don’t get another peso, dollar, franc, or euro. Are we clear?”

  She lowers her head and mutters, “Yes, brother.”

  “What else do you have to say, Nina?”

  “Sorry for what I said,” she says, glaring at me. It’s obvious she doesn’t mean it. She hates me and wants me to know it.

  “You are dismissed, Nina,” Juan says as she retreats to a corner of the ballroom.

  “Your sister hates me. It’s sad, really. I used to dream of having a sister. Thought it would be so fun. I’m thinking I was wrong.”

  “It is not you. She’s mad at me.”

  “Because you are going to take over the company and she works there and thinks she knows it all?”

  “Exactly, which is humorous since she is not even in a position of power.”

  “And you get the best of both worlds. You get to continue playing the game you love as well as run the company. Although, I didn’t really understand what your father meant by the holding company.”

  “We are a multinational conglomerate. Our family could never run something so large on our own. We have trusted employees in places of power and we pay them handsomely. My father reviews reports and has traveled the world checking in on different divisions, but it’s because of his keen eye for quickly deducing a person’s abilities that the company has grown into what it has. I but only have to, as you say, keep the wheels on the wagon. Each company has their own management hierarchy and most are publicly traded. The holding company that I will serve as chairman of, does just what it sounds like, we own—or hold—the majority of stock in the individual companies. We guide each company and try to make it more profitable, which then makes the stocks worth more as well as increases our net worth.”

  “Can we sit for a minute, Juan?” I say, not bothering to wait for his reply. I take a seat, feeling flush and like I may faint.

  “Are you okay?” he asks, sitting next to me and taking my hand in his.

  “I’m feeling a little shaken. I think I need something to eat.”

  “I will be right back.” He rushes over to the buffet, quickly filling a plate and bringing it to me. “You must be sure to eat during the festivities. You’re growing a baby and need extra calories.”

  I pop a piece of focaccia in my mouth and drink some water then proceed to demolish everything on the plate. When I’m finished, I let out a contented yawn.

  “My dear,” he says. “We must share a dance, then I am going to take you back to our suite to rest.”

  The whole time we’re dancing I can feel Nina throwing daggers at me with her eyes. Maybe this isn’t going to work. When we get back to our suite, I sit on the bed.

  “Juan, what will our married life be like? Where will we live?” I’m still feeling a little shaken. “I’m not used to dealing with family. I left my family because they didn’t treat me well. I won’t go through that again.”

  “I will not allow my sister to treat you with anything other than respect.”

  “All that means is when you are around she will be nice, but when you aren’t, she will try to undermine me at every turn. She’s a liar, Juan. You can see it in her eyes.”

  “And you are very astute. She’s always been a liar, since childhood. It seems you have my father’s gift for judging a person’s character.” He sits on the bed next to me and kisses me, distracting me by sliding his hand across the front of my dress. “I love your breasts, by the way, and know innately that you were most definitely blesse
d.”

  “Everyone always thinks they are fake, but I never had the money to buy fake boobs.”

  “My darling, you now have the money to buy anything your heart desires.”

  “And I already told you I don’t desire anything but you.” I start unbuttoning his shirt.

  “Now?”

  “Yes, but I’d like you to fully answer my question first. How will we live?”

  “Famously,” he says, quickly unzipping the back of my gown.

  “You’re going to have to be more specific than that. You mentioned a castle in Argentina. You told me your family lives there. Does that include Nina?”

  “Yes, she and her family currently live there. It’s where my stables are and where I train. We each have our own homes within the castle grounds. I also have homes of my own around the world. We will be based out of Argentina, but will probably only spend half of our life there. And if the castle doesn’t suit you for while we are there, I will make it suitable for you, even if it means relocating my sister. Let’s talk of something more pleasant,” he says, getting me out of my gown. “Where do you wish to honeymoon? Anywhere in the world.”

  “I haven’t been anywhere in the world, Juan. Where would you like to take me?”

  “Well,” he says, removing my panties and tossing them aside. “You will need a new wardrobe, first of all. The wives of polo players are typically not seen in public in the same thing twice. I have a few more matches before the end of the year, most of them in Argentina. You will get to see me play—that I cannot wait for. We’ll start our honeymoon with a shopping spree. Which would you prefer? Milan, Dubai or Paris?”

  “Oh, Dubai sounds so exotic.”

  “Perfect. Then we will need some time to relax. Let’s go to the Maldives. It’s not far from Dubai. Would you prefer a beachfront villa or a water villa?”

  “Is a water villa the kind that sits on stilts over the water?” I ask.