by Lizzie Shane
Candy rolled her eyes. She was lucky her mother thought she could use Ren. Regina was too delighted to discover her son-in-law had fame capital to hold a grudge—though Candy was sure there would be consequences for their secrecy later. Nothing was ever just forgiven where her mother was concerned.
“I pretended to be in on the secret,” Regina went on. “I can’t believe you would let me look like a fool for not knowing when it’s everywhere—”
“Where exactly is everywhere?” Ren asked, and Regina didn’t scold her new favorite in-law for interrupting.
“Oh, you know, the internet. The article I saw was lovely.” She pulled out her phone, tapping at it until she located the site. “Here.” She handed the phone to Ren, who took it mechanically, periodically flicking the screen with a finger as he read. “It talks about your parents and their tragic death. How your father’s music was so influential. Your mother’s promise as an artist and her background as the daughter of a Chinese businessman before she met your father at a charity ball and instantly fell in love with him. How they ran away together and had you. How he left the band for her and wrote an entire album dedicated to her. It’s such a lovely story. I can’t believe you never told us!”
Candy’s stomach roiled. That wasn’t just a few lines in a puff piece. That was a full expose. His entire life story.
“Are you seriously Lorenzo Tate’s kid?” Scott asked—and even her jaded brother sounded impressed. Her father, the other bridesmaids, they all stared at Ren as if he was an act in a side show.
Ren swallowed and looked up from the phone, then he said something she’d never expected him to openly admit. “I am.”
Her father’s expression turned musing. “You said you were raised by your grandparents…”
“His parents were killed in a horrible car crash when he was six.” Regina was all too eager to share more of the story she’d learned from the tabloids. “They were being chased by the paparazzi. Just like Princess Di. Isn’t that heartbreaking? Then your grandfather dying of pancreatic cancer when you were still so young. And your grandmother fading away, dying of a broken heart without him. Oh, Ren, such tragedy in your life.”
Beside Candy, Ren’s face had gone stiff, his mobile features locking everything inside as he handed her mother back her phone. “Mom. That’s enough.”
“I don’t see why you kept it such a secret,” Regina scolded, turning her attention to Candy.
“You didn’t need to know.”
“Of course we did! This is incredible for your brother’s campaign.”
“No,” Candy insisted. “It isn’t. That isn’t how this works. Even if Aiden decides to run for office, this information is never going in a press kit.”
“Candice!” Her mother’s horror at the idea of not telling the world saturated her name. “Everyone knows anyway. Why not frame it in a way that’s beneficial to the family? After all the advantages we gave you, the least you can do is be a little grateful. For once, do your part for this family.”
Candy looked at her mother, dressed in flawless mother-of-the-bride couture. Looking like a first lady who never quite made it to the White House. So determined to run the world.
“I’m sure it would be great for the family. But we aren’t married.”
The words popped out before she’d even made the conscious decision to confess.
“Never say you’re getting divorced,” her mother exclaimed, her face falling—heartbroken at the idea of losing her new favorite in-law so soon.
Candy supposed that was a logical conclusion. Much more logical than the truth. “Technically, we were never married. It was all a lie.”
Ren shot Candy a questioning look as the rest of her family looked on in mild confusion.
“No.” Her mother shook her head, as if she could shake away the truth. “You had wedding pictures.”
“Photoshop.”
“You think I can’t spot Photoshop?” Regina’s voice was rising, the pitch growing sharp. “You think I’ve never seen faked photos? I’ve been in DC a long time, young lady. Now stop being funny.”
“I’m not laughing, Mom. No one is.” She swallowed and provided the details she hoped would convince her mother. “You kept trying to set me up with proper political alliances and I couldn’t take it anymore so I lied about being engaged to get you off my back. And kept on lying until you believed me. Ren’s just a friend. He agreed to come here to help me out because he’s the best guy in the world, but he isn’t my husband and he’s never going to be.”
“Raines family!” The photographer called. “We’re ready for you!”
Her mother’s blinding smile snapped back into place. “Excellent! We’re all ready!” She turned and ushered the family toward where Charlotte waited on the footbridge. “Candice. Ren. You’re on the left.”
Candy blinked. Impressed in spite of herself at the depth of her mother’s denial. “Mom. I just told you we aren’t married. We never were. You want Ren in the family photos?”
“Of course. Hurry along, you two.”
Ren shot Candy an inquiring look and she groaned. “Seriously, Mom? Is this because he’s famous? You want to claim him in the family photos?”
Her mother shot her a look. One of the looks that would have made her quail when she was a little girl. But she wasn’t a little girl anymore. “This is your sister’s day, Candice,” she said, smiling through gritted teeth. “And today he’s your husband. Tomorrow he can be whatever you want, but today you’re going to march up there and smile. Nothing is going to spoil this for Charlotte. She’s going to look back on this as the happiest day of her life.”
Scott burst out laughing. Regina transferred her death glare to her eldest and he choked off the sound. “Sorry. Happiest day of her life. Got it.”
But he couldn’t keep a straight face as he fell into step beside Candy and Ren. “Who would have thought that the resident cokehead would be the only one who doesn’t have a scandal this weekend? I’m the virtuous one.” He laughed. “No one would have taken that bet.”
Candy grimaced and climbed toward where Charlotte waited.
The happiest day of her life. She only hoped Charlotte had her mother’s capacity to remember things not as they were, but as she wanted them to be.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Last month…
“Jessica, I cannot tell you how pleased we are to meet you. It’s about time someone took pity on this poor ugly bastard. We were beginning to think he’d never find anyone who could stand to look at him.” Tank teased.
At Ren’s side, Jessica didn’t miss a beat. “I just close my eyes and think of Chris Evans.”
Tank barked out a laugh, toasting her with the beer clutched in one hand. “I like her. You should keep this one.”
“This one?” Jessica asked archly, but Ren barely heard her, his hearing had shut off along with his heartbeat at the arrested look on Candy’s face behind Tank’s shoulder.
Max’s house was huge, but even the giant great room was packed elbow-to-elbow with all the guests at Max and Parvati’s engagement party. Ren had introduced himself to dozens of members of Parv’s family before he’d spotted Tank—standing head and shoulders taller than the rest of the crowd—and made his way to the center of the room to his coworker. Candy must have had the same idea—though now she looked ready to bolt.
“Candy!” He didn’t know why he didn’t just let her run, but her name was out of his mouth before he gave it a second thought.
Tank immediately turned, echoing his greeting, and pulling her into their circle. “Have you met Pretty Boy’s girl?”
“Not yet.” She thrust out her hand to Jessica. “Candy Raines.” She must have come straight from work, still wearing one of the grey power suits she sometimes wore when she was meeting clients.
Jessica took the offered hand. “Jessica Fulton.”
Ren knew he should say something—anything—to smooth the introducution, but the awkwardness of the moment
crippled his tongue. Luckily, Tank kept things light and easy and Candy slipped away to get herself a drink as soon as possible.
“So that’s your ex?” Jessica asked as soon as Tank and Candy were gone, though they still stood in the middle of a crowded room.
“No. Nothing like that.” He was sure he hadn’t mentioned Candy to her. Had she picked something up? “We had a little workplace fling. Nothing serious.” Liar. “Candy doesn’t do serious.” At least that was the truth. “Anyway, it was ages ago. Ancient history. Nothing for you to worry about.”
A little wrinkle continued to crease Jessica’s brow, but she plastered over it with a smile. “If she’s ancient history, what does the future look like?”
“Should I look into my crystal ball?” he teased. She’d told him about a fortune teller she’d visited in high school who’d told her about her dream man. Just another contrast from Candy, who never told him anything from her past. “I’m seeing… a lot of you in my future.”
She grinned. “Is that so?”
“Mm.” He didn’t have to lower his head to kiss her, their lips at exactly the same height.
And if he felt unease walking up his spine with prickly footsteps at the thought of Candy seeing him kiss another woman, he ignored it. He was with Jessica now. He had nothing to feel guilty about. She was his future, damn it.
They talked about their future. They talked about their pasts. They both said all the right things, clicking in all the right ways. And if it sometimes felt like he was going through the motions, that was just his self-sabotage talking. This was what he wanted. This was his happily-ever-after. He just had to be smart enough not to screw it up.
*
Present day…
“Where’s Grandpa Dalton?” Ren heard Candy ask as they ascended the footbridge to join the bride.
“He wasn’t feeling up to the photos this afternoon,” her mother replied. “We’ll get some shots at the reception.”
“At least he has an excuse not to be here. I can’t believe Aiden. Who gets married without flower girls?” The blushing bride griped as she smiled radiantly for the cameras.
“You don’t need a flower girl, darling,” her mother soothed. “You’ll shine all the brighter without the guests getting distracted by the children.”
Ren tuned out Candy’s mother and sister as he arranged his face in an appropriate smile for the photographer. Thankfully he had a lot of experience angling his head and his body at their commands so he could perform by rote while a hundred sensations churned beneath the surface and his thoughts were a million miles away.
Or three thousand miles away in Los Angeles.
A source close to the family… The phrase had littered the article Candy’s mother had shown him. But Ren knew of only one source with that much information who was hard up for cash. The realization had crept in, growing more and more certain the more he read.
The photographer called out a command in that sweet, wheedling tone they all seemed to develop and Ren shifted, putting his hand on Candy’s trim waist, tucking her a little closer. He heard her inhale, holding her breath, reacting to his touch like she always did.
He isn’t my husband and he’s never going to be.
Her words kept echoing in his brain. He didn’t know why. He’d already known they were true. But hearing her say them like that, so baldly, without even thinking—another nail in a coffin that already had more than necessary.
If he’d had any questions about where she stood this morning, he knew now. The unvarnished truth. And suddenly he missed the lie.
“Perfect. Just like that,” the photographer gushed. “Such an attractive family.”
Scott’s gaze flicked sideways to catch his. Because Ren wasn’t family? Or because of who Ren’s family was?
People always treated him differently after they knew. Even if they tried not to. Candy had known from the start, so that was different. She always treated him, well, like him. But her brother was looking at him now with something different in his eyes. That awareness. That knowledge of who his parents were that somehow superseded who he was.
Her entire family was aware of him now. As Lorenzo Tate Junior. Except for Charlotte, who seemed to have embraced the bridal prerogative to be aware only of herself. Or if she was at all aware of the drama unfolding around her she was doing an excellent job of pretending ignorance.
“Perfect. Now just the siblings.”
Ren stepped away, clearing the area for the next shot. Alicia tried to approach him, but he let his gaze slide over her—aloof, unapproachable. A trick he’d learned from his celebrity clients when they were trying to discourage fans from approaching. Ren hated doing shit like that. He hated having those walls up. Keeping the world at a distance because celebrities couldn’t afford to let their guard down.
He hated being this guy, but now that the news was out, what choice did he have?
And it was all Javi’s fault.
He watched Candy standing stiffly beside her brother and sister, smiling, though no emotion penetrated the brick wall of her façade. Nothing ever penetrated.
Ren snorted. Candy hated letting her guard down and Ren hated putting his up. He should have seen years ago that they were incompatible.
“Excellent. And now just the parents and the bride.”
Candy descended the footbridge quickly, beelining toward Ren. “I’m sorry.”
“It isn’t your fault. Unless you’re ‘a source close to the family.’” Close to. Hell. In the family.
Candy didn’t bother to respond to his attempt at levity. “We’ll smother it. There must be something we can do to bury the article—”
“Candy. It’s already been republished a dozen other places. It’s out. That’s all there is to it.” And he was surprisingly okay with that.
He’d spent his entire adult life keeping that one thing about himself secret and now that it was out in the open he almost felt… relieved. Sad, in a way, too, because that chapter of his life where he’d been able to just be Ren—or Pretty Boy—was over now. There was no putting this cat back in the bag. But it wasn’t the worst thing that had ever happened to him. Not by a long shot. He’d adapt. It was what he did. And if he had to leave Elite Protection… if he was no longer any good as a bodyguard because he’d cause too much of a stir in his own right… if he had to walk away from the life he’d had for the last few years… maybe it was time.
Maybe it would be easier to quit Candy if he quit Elite Protection too.
He didn’t need the money. He never had. His father’s catalogue still sold like crazy—keeping both him and the foundation very comfortably wealthy.
Except for when Javi started skimming.
Shit. He needed to talk to Javi.
He realized Candy was still talking. Something about hacking into every website that published the article and manually taking it down.
So he kissed her to shut her up.
It was a stupid impulse. His heart didn’t know they were already over and it leapt at the contact, lighting up at the taste of her, the scent of her, the feel of her in his arms.
Damn. He was going to have to leave EP.
He’d reinvent himself. He’d done it before. Spoiled little rich boy to model to martial arts student to bodyguard. The many faces of Lorenzo Tate Jr.
“Not married, are you?”
Ren released Candy and they both turned toward her mother, who eyed them with a cat-got-the-canary grin.
“I never said we hadn’t slept together,” Candy said, and the words successfully knocked the smile off her mother’s face, replacing it with a disapproving purse of her lips. Candy jerked her chin to where the photographer was fawning over Charlotte. “Are we done here?”
“You’re released. Just be at the church at three-thirty, sharp. As a couple.” She eyed them both sternly.
Ren let Candy field this one—all week he’d been following her lead and now didn’t seem the time to intervene. “You want us to keep p
retending?” she asked. “Won’t that make it even harder to explain when we come clean?”
“We’ll figure out how to handle the explanations later. For today, you’re married. Congratulations. Just be ready to congratulate your sister.”
“Mom. You can’t be in favor of this marriage. He cheated on her last night. He’s lying to her. Manipulating her. Dad,” she called when her father would have moved past them. “You’re really going to walk her down the aisle to a man who treats her like that?”
Her father’s expression flickered with uncertainty, but her mother didn’t seem to share his hesitation, her next words sharp and firm. “You aren’t one to judge, are you, Candice? If he’s lying to her? Maybe if you’d been part of this family for the last decade, you could change all our minds for us. But all we know about you is that you’ve been lying to us for years. Stringing us along. Telling us you’re married to this man. Well, we reap what we sow. So you keep up the charade. You smile pretty and read that verse in the ceremony. For your sister’s sake. Because this is what she wants. And you owe her that.”
Ren felt like a voyeur, caught in their family drama when he had plenty of his own to sort through. “Excuse me,” he murmured, before Candy could come up with a response, striding quickly back toward the carriage house.
He had a phone call to make.
*
Candy watched Ren escape, half of her wanting to chase after him. To make sure he was all right. To help. But that wasn’t her place anymore—if it ever had been—so she turned to her father instead.
“Dad.” She pressed, pushing against the weak link where her parents were concerned. “At least talk to Charlotte—”
But he wasn’t as weak a link as she’d thought. He shook his head. “We don’t interfere in her choices any more than we interfere in your life.”
Her jaw dropped at that liberal interpretation of reality. “I moved to LA when I was eighteen to get away from your interference in my life.”