A Hollywood Bride (Billionaires' Brides of Convenience Book 2)

by Nadia Lee

  I start a new text to my chief publicist Christopher.

  Announce to the press that Paige and I are separating on an amicable—

  Damn it. I click the delete key until the text is all gone. I’ve been trying to make the announcement, but just haven’t been able to. I’m not exactly sure what I’m hoping for. Paige isn’t going to tell me she loves me, or that she’s perfectly fine with how my own fucking agent endangered Bethany or threatened Renni.

  “You okay?” Elliot asks.

  “Yes,” I say, but I don’t sound convincing…even to my own ears.

  “I don’t mind if you want to move in, but you know that sooner or later Elizabeth is gonna march in here and drag you back to your mansion.”

  He’s right. Elizabeth and Paige call at least five times a day. Each. Paige texts me too, but I haven’t read any of the messages. I don’t have the guts.

  I go to the garage and hop into my Ferrari. I should find a hotel to stay at. Out of habit, I start to dial Paige to arrange a suite, then stop. She isn’t my assistant, and she probably doesn’t want to lift a finger on my behalf.

  I’ve screwed up so bad.

  So I stop at the first big hotel I see and toss my keys to the valet. I don’t give a damn where I stay, so long as they have a room for me.

  Of course we have a room, Mr. Reed! Would you like the presidential suite? Of course, we will be happy to, sir. Will there be anything else, sir?

  Normally a cocky smile would split my face, and I’d wink at the female front desk clerk until she flushed and fluttered her eyelashes at me. The phrase “Isn’t my life so fucking awesome?” would ring in my head as I took the keycard and walked away to the elevator. If she was pretty enough, I’d hint that she should come up and have a drink after her shift ended.

  But now I look at the woman with about the same interest I’d show a piece of plywood. And when I take the key and walk away, the emptiness in my heart is like acid. The other guests stare at me, and it only intensifies the hollowness deep inside.

  They think I have everything.

  They couldn’t be more wrong.

  I pick up a new cap from the hotel gift shop and walk along the street. My phone’s off, although it sits in my pocket. That and my plastic are all I have on me as I wander around, letting my feet take me wherever.

  My gaze falls on a couple with their arms linked. The girl is a brunette, with a pair of square black librarian glasses. Her pale hand contrasts sharply against her man’s olive-toned skin.

  They aren’t anybody famous. They aren’t anybody rich. I’d bet my Ferrari they’ve never lived in a house with twice the number of bedrooms as people. They’re just regular, everyday people, smiling and leaning into each other as they step along and share a joke.

  They’re happy and content.

  And I’d give all I have to switch places with them.

  I walk for a while and somehow end up in front of a jewelry store owned by Kiyoko Hamada, the woman who designed Paige’s engagement ring. There are more exquisite items on display in the window. White pearls, diamond earrings and necklace sets sparkle under the lights. The pearls are so big and lustrous, they seem to glow from within.

  When I commissioned the engagement ring, I had simple hopes for my life. A loving wife. Maybe a child or two. Most people find those attainable, but not me. To me, they’re big dreams, and seem harder than flying to the moon.

  Suddenly the door to the shop opens, and the last person I ever thought I’d see at a jeweler walks out. My cousin, Dane Pryce, in all his glory.

  His dark hair is neatly cropped, and he’s in a navy blue bespoke suit. Grimness pours off him, although it’s not as bad as usual. Maybe he’s mellowing in his old age.

  “Dane?” I say, hardly believing it. “What are you doing here?”

  The icy blue eyes narrow. “I could ask the same. Trying to stock up on peace offerings for the times you’re going to screw up?”

  My mood snaps from shock to pissed off. Why do I even talk to this guy? “You’re such a fucking asshole.”

  “At least I don’t go to strip clubs while I’m engaged. Nor am I stupid enough to get caught.”

  I grind my teeth. “Are you shopping for a ring?” I say, not wanting to get into my failing personal life. He has no other reason to come here. He isn’t the type to give women lots of expensive jewelry just because.

  Nothing changes on his face, except for the subtle color on his cheeks.

  “Son of a bitch.” I chuckle. “You are!”

  His stare grows colder. “And you? Are you going to go in, or stand out here all day running your lips?”

  “Nah. I was just out for a stroll.”

  “Well, exercise time is over. I’ll take you to your car.”

  Normally I would refuse. But since my Ferrari’s several miles away—much farther than he’s expecting—I say, “Sure. Why not?”

  Once we’re both in his Bentley, I tell him where my car is. He narrows his eyes. “That’s at least fifteen blocks away.”

  I give him my most angelic smile. “You did offer…”

  He starts driving. He stays just below the speed limit, which reminds me of an octogenarian with oversized knuckles white around the steering wheel.

  “What happened to your Lamborghini?” I ask.

  “I got bored with it.”

  I raise my eyebrows. He loves that car more than anything else in the world. If he could, he would’ve married the thing.

  “So, you and Paige are going to split,” Dane says, his eyes on the road. “True, or gossip rag bullshit?”

  “Jeez. Have you been stalking me?”

  “Hardly. I can’t get away from you.” His mouth curls in distaste. “It’s all over the news, for one.”

  I say nothing. Paige’s and my situation is just too painful and raw to talk about…especially to someone like Dane, who has the emotional range of a can opener.

  “So it’s true.” He sighs at an idiot who cuts him off. But then he shouldn’t be driving like an old woman if he doesn’t want to be dissed on the road. “Was it your decision?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “I see. Not your decision. Well, if you want her, take her.”

  I choke. “I’m not a rapist.”

  “Then convince her,” he says, like I’m the biggest idiot in the world.

  “Easier said than done.”

  “My advice,” Dane says, “is to get out of L.A. Both of you are under a microscope here. Go to the family vacation home in the Maldives. Or the one in Thailand. Or Tahiti. If the idiot media follow you in a helicopter, shoot it down. That’s what guards are for. Then, once you’re alone with her, convince Paige that you’re not a total loss.” He drives on, inscrutable behind his sunglasses. “Or, second option: sit by and watch her marry some other sap, go live in a home with a white-picket fence, have two point three children and drive a gently used minivan.”

  I stare at him, feeling like I’m in a Twilight Zone episode. Getting relationship advice from Dane is like getting lessons on how to be a moral, upstanding citizen from Ted Bundy.

  “They might even get a dog,” Dane adds, scowling now as though that’s the most offensive possibility out of all the ones he’s listed.

  I don’t know how to respond. He’s actually trying to help out. “Why are you bothering to give me advice? You don’t even like me.”

  “Beside the point,” he says.

  “No, seriously. Why?”

  He glances my way for a fraction of a second. “Grandma Shirley wanted me to.”

  “Are you kidding? Grandma Shirley hated me.”

  “No. She worried about you because you aren’t particularly bright or cool-headed. Being emotional is a terrible handicap.”

  “Right. Because having ice water for blood is so much better.” Shaking my head, I lean back in my seat. “I really want to know who you bought the ring for. I want to meet the woman who’d say yes to a man who’d be hot in an igloo.”
r />   The muscles in his jaw flex. “Worry about yourself.” He stops the car in front of my hotel. “Get out.”

  I do. The second I slam the door shut, he drives off. I watch the Bentley slowly disappear around the block.

  As much as I hate Dane, he’s right about one thing. Paige is going to be snapped up by someone. And that man is going to share her bed, give her children…

  My hands curl into fists. The idea of her with another man makes me want to vomit. So I need to do something here. And Dane’s suggestion is a good one…plus, I was thinking about it already. Leave the country. Lie low. Have a heart-to-heart talk.

  My lawyers are doing what they can to ensure that Mira isn’t going to screw with Paige’s stepsister or Renni. But ultimately, Paige has to know that Mira was involved in Bethany’s accident, even if her influence was indirect. I don’t want to have any ugly secrets between us that can come back later to bite me in the ass.

  Then I should just calmly explain why she should forget what I told her about my loving her—I said that all wrong anyway—and she should give us a chance without any preconceived notions about how we should end it all.

  A good plan. In fact, it’s perfect.

  I switch on my phone. Time to execute.

  * * *

  Paige

  I no longer know what to make of Ryder’s absence. I don’t think anything’s happened to him; if it had, I would’ve seen it on the news.

  One possible clue: Elliot isn’t answering his phone either. Elizabeth hasn’t been able to get a hold of either of her brothers, and she’s convinced Elliot and Ryder are up to no good.

  “One plus one isn’t two when they’re together. It’s more like ten.”

  We have barely a week left before our wedding. Mom’s called twice, but I told her I didn’t know what was going on and asked her to not make any travel plans.

  The list I made to convince Ryder that I love him too sits forlornly on my desk. At the rate things are going, I may never get a chance to use it.

  Julian wanted me to ditch Ryder at the altar. It looks like it’s going to be the opposite, with me left behind. Now isn’t that ironic?

  Renni texts me to see when the rehearsal is. I text back, I don’t know.

  I’m going to kill him when I see him, you know that, right?

  A reluctant smile tugs at me. Yes, but you should at least wait until you have an airtight alibi.

  You can be my alibi. This shit isn’t cool, Paige. Don’t let him get away with it. He’s gotta respect you.

  My eyes sting. I press my lips together until they hurt. Renni means well, but she doesn’t know everything that’s going on between me and Ryder…or the fact that he said he loved me. I haven’t told anybody about our last big fight. If I did, I’d have to talk about how I’m in love with him, too. I’m not saying that out loud to anyone until I get a chance to tell him first. He deserves at least that much.

  Bethany calls me on the sixth day Ryder has been missing. Presumably she feels like it’s the kind of topic you should actually talk about, rather than just texting back and forth.

  It’s after dinner time, and my stomach is feeling less than happy. “Hey,” I say, my voice listless. I plop on the bed in my room and stare at the ceiling.

  “Hi. Um…are you sick?”

  “No. Just…too full from dinner. No appetite, but I ate anyway for the baby’s sake.”

  “Oh.” A bit of awkward silence. “They always make you eat a lot.” She clears her throat. “Are you guys okay? Mom’s kind of worried.”

  “I don’t know.” I sigh. The light from the bedside lamp hits the ring on my finger, and the bright sparkles cut my heart. “I can’t get a hold of Ryder.”

  There is a long pause. “Just so you know, I’ve been in touch with his lawyers.”

  “About what?”

  “The funding for my website. He’s going to do it, rather than that trust.”

  “Oh. Well…that’s great.”

  “You didn’t know?” She turns it into a question, but she already knows the answer.

  “We talked a bit about it, but…no. I didn’t.”

  “The contract he offered is very fair, much better terms, and the other guy backed off without a fight.”

  Mira can be headstrong, but she can’t win against Ryder. Not only is he her client, but underneath that carefree playboy façade lies steel.

  “Anyway, I just thought I should mention it and thank you. I know you had something to do with it.”

  “Not at all.” Her gratitude is misdirected; she only became a target because of me. She needs to know, so I tell her how Mira used the trust to get to her, in order to use her as leverage against me.

  “Are you kidding? What a…witch!” Bethany says in outrage.

  “Yup. I’m sure she’ll leave you alone now, though.”

  “More importantly, she better leave you alone. You aren’t some puppet she can control!”

  “I know. I’m sure she’s learned her lesson,” I say.

  A text comes in. I pause for a second. “Can you hold?” My heart pounding, I check it. Maybe it’s Ryder… Disappointment crashes through me when I see that it’s from Renni. I click on it, just in case it’s something urgent. Although Mira’s backed off from my stepsister, she also threatened my best friend.

  I thought I should send you this before you see it on the Internet. Apparently Ryder’s been staying here.

  She’s attached a photo of a hotel I’m familiar with. It’s the place Ryder had that orgy the night before his cousin’s rehearsal dinner. He’s coming out of the building in the picture, eyes hidden behind a huge pair of sunglasses.

  The usual assholes are saying you guys broke up, but I don’t buy it. Argh. Maybe we should sue them for defamation or something, no?

  I return to my call with Bethany. “I have to go. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

  “Of course. Take care of yourself. And no matter what happens, just remember you’re awesome and I love you.”

  “Love you, too, Bethany.”

  I go back to the picture. Then I type, When?

  Yesterday according to the “news,” Renni responds.

  Thank you!

  After throwing on a clean tunic and skirt, I grab my purse and car keys. It’s time I go track down my fiancé and tell him how I feel.

  * * *

  There is a sense of déjà vu as I walk through the main entrance to the lobby. Chandeliers hang from the high, golden ceiling, and my shoes click with every step.

  A young woman in a black suit stands behind the front desk, and she gives me a smooth professional smile. “Good evening, ma’am. How can I help you?”

  “Can I speak to the manager on duty, please?”

  “May I inquire what this is in regards to?”

  “Just tell him Paige Johnson is here.”

  She frowns slightly, but says, “Please have a seat.” She gestures at the empty couches behind me. “I’ll be right back.”

  I sit and wait. The orchids on the table look exceptionally white and elegant. Thin but sturdy wires hold the stems in place.

  Soon, the manager comes out. This time he doesn’t come with security. I give him a small, friendly smile.

  “Paige. What a surprise,” he says, his words lightly accented.

  “Hello, Patrik.” I stand up. “I’m here to see Ryder. I understand he’s staying here.”

  “Oh, terribly sorry, but Mr. Reed checked out just an hour ago.”

  “He did?” I say almost stupidly.

  Patrik looks sympathetically devastated. “If I’d only known you were coming…”

  Suddenly I’m tired. “Do I need to settle the account?”

  His palms jump up between us. “No, not at all. Everything’s been taken care of.”

  “He might’ve left something behind. Would you mind if I check?”

  There’s something that looks suspiciously like pity in his kind blue eyes. “Of course. Let me grab a keycard, and we
can go up together.”

  We take an empty elevator. I keep my chin up and back straight even though I want to collapse in a corner and cry. Down the hall, we hit the same suite where Ryder had his wild party with naked women and empty bottles of booze and the hazy smoke of burnt pot.

  Housekeeping hasn’t had a chance to clean the suite yet. I turn to Patrik. “You don’t have to stay. It may take a while.”

  He nods and steps back a pace. “Take your time.”

  The door closes behind him with a soft click.

  I look around. No signs of wild partying or womanizing. Just rumpled sheets and a shower that’s been used. A couple of towels on the bathroom floor. I kneel on the side of the bed and bury my face in the pillows.

  They smell like Ryder—the clean soap and that indefinable man scent that never fails to send hot jitters of longing thorough my whole being. The pain of not having him with me is almost physical, a knife piercing my heart. I press a tight fist against my chest and swallow a sob.

  I fumble through my purse until I find my phone. I dial Ryder’s number. He used to always answer me, but now…

  This time is no exception. After what feels like forever, I get voice mail.

  “You have reached…” a soulless mechanical voice drones on until a sharp beep cuts it off.

  “Ryder, it’s me. Paige. I don’t know where you are…or how angry you still are with me, but I want you to know I miss you and I want you back. You remember how you said I was looking forward to the end of one year? Well, you were wrong. I was afraid. I just couldn’t believe you could ever love me, and I didn’t want to be that cliché—an assistant who falls for her boss. But…” I drag in a shuddery breath. Hot tears thicken in my throat, and I compose myself so I can actually talk rather than start blubbering like an idiot. “I’m in love with you, Ryder. Crazy, stupid in love. It hurts to be away from you, and I hope it’s not too late for us. Just come back. I’m so sorry about everything. I—”

  The voice mail beeps again, ending the recording. My hand clenches around my phone. And this time I can’t stop the flow of tears or the sounds of sorrow and loss being dragged out from deep inside me.