Hard to Hold (The Hold series Book 2)

by Arell Rivers

  “I guess I started this,” he says, sighing. I stare into his green eyes. “Ro, you’ve been through so much, yet you still believe in love. You are independent, smart, caring, funny, beautiful and real. You are my everything.”

  Before I can wrap my body around his, he pulls back and asks, “What’s the deal with Kim and Melanie?”

  Where did that come from? I don’t want to think about them, so I do the mature thing and stick out my tongue.

  “Don’t offer it unless you plan on using it.”

  “Oh, I plan on using it.” I stick my tongue out again and he hauls me up into his lap. I lean forward to kiss him, but he braces his hands on my shoulders, effectively stopping me. “Nope. Not one more kiss until you tell me.”

  “I’d rather be kissing you.”

  “Then spill it, Bloomer.”

  He gives me a little shake, but his eyes betray his concern.

  Making myself comfortable on his lap, I give in. “They’ve both been working for Greta for a year or so. They’re trying to make names for themselves.”

  He frowns. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  They’re catty bitches who make me feel two inches tall.

  “They’re not the nicest people. They are very ambitious. They don’t care who they trample to get ahead, even if it means ignoring what their talent wants.”

  Cole processes everything I told him. “The reason you’re so good at your job is because you listen to your clients.”

  Heat rises up my neck.

  “Get used to the compliments, Ro. I’m not stopping.” He smiles and kisses my nose.

  I stretch my neck, allowing him full access. As he leans in to nip and bite, he runs his hands down my sides, ending at my hips. He makes me feel so small and feminine. And wanted.

  “You’re very good at this.”

  He chuckles. “And you’re very good at deflecting.” His nose is now nuzzling my hair.

  Placing my hands on his shoulders, I give him a mini massage, enjoying the feel of his defined muscles under my hands. It’s my turn to kiss his neck. He pulls back, eyes blazing. My body responds to his unspoken command.

  “Yes,” I say on a sigh.

  He growls and stands up with me in his arms. I wrap my legs around his hips as he walks. Toward. The. Pool.

  “Cole. No, Cole.”

  “You said yes.”

  I wriggle in his arms, but they tighten around me.

  “I didn’t know what you intended.”

  “You knew exactly what I wanted. It’s what I always want. You.”

  “Well, when you put it like that.” I go limp.

  “That’s my girl.” He takes a detour away from the pool. “The hot tub is back up and running. It’s time we broke it in.”

  He sets me down on my feet and walks over to the controls. We never used the hot tub before, probably because it was summer and way too hot. But tonight, it’ll be perfect. With a rush, the water starts to bubble. Cole turns the lights on to a pretty purple.

  “You. Naked. Now.”

  He crosses his arms over his chest and looks at me.

  I want to give him a funny comeback quip, but lust has wiped my mind blank. He stands in front of me looking so hot and commanding. I untie my bikini top.

  He motions with his fingers for my top. “Hand it to me.”

  When I do as instructed, he points to my bottoms. No use being shy or embarrassed about my less than perfect body. He hates it when I put myself down, so I silently shimmy them down my legs and hand them over.

  “Very nice.” His eyes travel up and down my naked body. “Better than nice. Perfect.”

  The way he’s looking at me makes me almost believe him.

  “Ro, you’re absolutely gorgeous and more than I deserve. I promise to love you more tomorrow than today, but right now, I’m going to make you forget your name. Get into the hot tub.”

  He offers me his hand. The hot tub could sit eight people comfortably, but tonight it’s all ours. The water feels warm and inviting against my naked body. As I’m getting settled in, Cole disappears into the house. Moments later, Usher’s “Scream” starts playing, causing me to dance in my seat. When Cole saunters back to the hot tub, he’s carrying two champagne flutes filled with my new favorite drink. He places them on the side, steps back and removes his bathing suit.

  My dancing comes to an abrupt halt. “Oh, my.”

  “All yours.”

  Gracefully, he joins me in the hot tub and hands me a flute. Picking his up, he says, “To our final new beginning.”

  We clink glasses and the delicious bubbles tickle my throat. He settles onto the seat next to mine and reaches out to pull me between his legs.

  The music continues with “You Really Got Me” by The Kinks. He has such a way with his playlists. This must be his fuck me hard one. I start to giggle.

  “Love that sound, Ro, but you know how to make a man squirm. I’m naked here and you’re giggling at me.”

  I look up at him, smiling. “I was just admiring your playlists. They always tell me exactly what you’re thinking.”

  He winks at me. “Guilty. Now, shut up and kiss me.”

  WE’RE BACK IN my old Command Center. Only now, it’s Emilie’s bedroom. Or at least it has a bed and a dresser in it now.

  “I wish I had another empty room for Emilie. It feels all sorts of wrong to have her in here. I hate that Gruesome’s running my life like this.”

  I peel my lips away from my teeth and hope it resembles a smile. “It’s okay. All the other rooms in the house are fully furnished and decorated, so we don’t have any other options. Besides, Emilie is hardly ever in LA.”

  “I don’t want to hide us from anyone anymore.”

  Let’s not rehash this now.

  “You know why we can’t come clean. I need to keep my job. Please, just go with this for a while longer.”

  “Fine. When Emilie moves out, you can redo this room anyway you like. I want you to be comfortable here.”

  “I still have my rental.”

  He gives me a hard stare. “Not for long.”

  “Cole, we’ve been over this. My lease runs through March.”

  “I’ll fucking pay off your rent until then, but you are not moving back there. I’m not going to lose you to Grandma Gertie, however good her blueberry muffins are.”

  I run my fingers through his silky hair. “You said one day at a time. Right now we have to focus on getting Emilie here tomorrow and finding Lisa.”

  Frustration at our situation oozes out of him for a full minute. He straightens. “But we still have tonight.”

  He kisses my cheek while escorting me out of the room, then closes the door behind us. My lower back tingles where his hand rests.

  As we walk down the hallway toward Cole’s bedroom, I say, “With Emilie moving in, I think I should spend the night at my place tomorrow.”

  “I thought we agreed that it’s time for me to introduce you to Em.” We enter the master bedroom.

  “Yes. But I shouldn’t stay here overnight in case the paparazzi—”

  “Fuck the paparazzi. You are not leaving. Ever again.”

  The set of his jaw tells me he’s not compromising on this. “But Emilie will arrive when I’m at work. How will it look if I drive in a couple hours after she gets here?”

  “I don’t give a shit how it will look. You’re staying. In fact, wait here.”

  While Cole disappears into his closet, I take a seat in a chair across the room, under a window. We’re not going to get any anywhere with this discussion if I sit on the bed.

  Tomorrow, the media will be camped outside of the house. I’m the one who tipped them off about Emilie’s flight plan, and from their barely contained frenzy, I have no doubt it’ll be a big story. Hell, they had helicopters today and it was only a furniture delivery. I won’t be able to get in without the media seeing me.

  Cole returns to the bedroom, his hands behind his back. He walks toward the bed
and adjusts his course when he realizes I’m in the chair. When he stops in front of me, he tilts his head upward in silent command. I stand.

  “Put your hands out, Ro.”

  “Why?”

  He wiggles his eyebrows. “Strike that. Close your eyes and put your hands out.”

  I pretend to pout. He flashes his dimple and waits. He’s irresistible. I do as I’m told. Something small and cold is placed in my palm.

  Eyes still closed, I run my other hand over the object. “It’s a key.”

  “Open your eyes.”

  I do, and just as I thought, Cole’s house key sits in my palm. But now it’s attached to the cutest guitar keychain. “Thank you. I love my new keychain.”

  “It slaughtered me when I saw that you had left your key.”

  “That was awful for me, too,” I whisper.

  His look turns serious as he says, “When I was home, I looked through Mom’s things. I had given her this keychain one Mother’s Day when I was a teenager.”

  I close my fingers around the best present anyone has ever given me.

  “I’m never giving this back.”

  Monday morning

  SHARI COMES INTO my office and perches on the side of my desk. “Now that’s a smile. Have a good weekend?”

  “Yes. Better than I’ve had for a while. How was yours?”

  “Great. My clients didn’t go off message, so I was able to relax for a change. I actually read two books.”

  Ignoring the ping of a new text on my cell, I reply, “Anything good?”

  “A couple of romances.” She blushes and runs her fingers through her hair. “So, are you ready for the morning meeting? I hope it’s better than last week’s.”

  “From your mouth to God’s ears.”

  “Do you think things will settle down for you soon?”

  “I hope so. On Friday, we’ll have confirmation that Cole didn’t get married, so I’ll be doing a lot of planning for his media junket.” I sigh. “I’ll be happy when this all blows over, and things can return to normal.”

  “Think you could sneak out for lunch with me tomorrow?”

  “I’d love that. I’m going to put it down in my calendar.”

  “Me, too.” She stands while thumbing at her cell. “See you in the meeting.”

  Waving to her, I pick up my own cell. I wonder what Cole sent me. My smile slides off my face when I see the text is not from him, but from Marco.

  I’ll be in town on Tuesday—can I meet up with Greta then? Everything ok? Saw that the model was moving in with your ex. Let me know if I can help.

  Not even Marco can deflate my mood. While I take responsibility for going to Las Vegas with him, he didn’t have to demand to meet Cole, which led to . . . I stop myself from going down that road again and pull up Greta’s email that lists her available dates. I respond: I put you down for Tuesday at 3.

  Greta walks into the hall, calling, “Conference room.”

  I square my shoulders, fix my ponytail, take my notebook and head into the room. Shari meets me at the door and we sit next to each other. It’s nice to have a friend here, especially with Kim and Melanie shooting daggers at me with their eyes.

  Greta starts with other clients. After the reps give their recaps, she provides instructions and dismisses them. When she’s in a hurry, Greta sometimes runs her meetings this way. Shari’s turn is uneventful. As she gathers her papers to leave, she gives me a small thumbs up.

  Soon it’s just Melanie, Kim, Greta and me left in the room. Greta’s eyes don’t leave me when she says, “Melanie, please share the photos you showed me before the meeting.”

  This doesn’t bode well. What on earth has gone wrong now? I look at the photos and my mouth falls open. My heart races. How? Who? Where did Melanie get her hands on photos from Friday night’s dinner?

  “Rose. Care to explain?”

  I look at Greta, but my mind’s a blank. The quality is pretty poor, but one photo distinctly shows Jessie and me having drinks, with McKenna in the background. Another one shows Cole and me talking in the restaurant. This is bad. Really bad.

  Before I can formulate a response, Kim jumps in. “Once again, Rose was out with our clients without notifying anyone in the office. Jessie is now Melanie’s talent, so Rose had absolutely no reason to be out with her. As for Cole, I certainly wasn’t notified about this meeting. Not to mention, the relationship we set up for Cole and Jessie is kaput, so they shouldn’t be seen in public together.”

  I look at Melanie and finally find my voice. “Where did you get these photos?”

  Melanie rolls her eyes. “That’s not important. Why weren’t Kim and I notified about this meeting?”

  I have to tell them something. How bad would it be if I say we’re friends? But all of Greta’s account reps know how much she frowns on any undue friendliness with our talent, even though non-fraternization only means not sleeping with a client. I think.

  Greta looks at me. “Rose. I’m waiting.”

  I clear my throat. “Cole and Jessie are good friends. They were out for dinner and invited my friend McKenna and me to join them briefly when they spotted us at the bar.”

  That’s sort of close to the truth.

  Kim and Melanie look spitting mad. Greta raises one eyebrow and sits back in her chair, clearly relishing the competition among the three of us. I struggle to keep my poker face.

  Breathe in. One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Breathe out. One Mississippi. Two Mississippi.

  Melanie is the first to break the silence. Looking at Greta, she whines, “Rose keeps going behind our backs and having secret meetings with the talent. Makes me wonder what else she’s hiding from the rest of us.”

  Leaning forward, Kim agrees. “She never called me to say she was out with Cole. I don’t think we ever would have known about this meeting if Melanie hadn’t found these photos.”

  “Thank you for your insights. I need to speak with Rose alone.”

  Kim and Melanie prance out, smug looks on their faces.

  Greta turns to me. “Rose, I don’t like that you deliberately went behind my back to meet up with the talent. I don’t care if this was truly coincidental, though considering how you were dressed, I would hope it was a chance meeting. In any event, you kept it a secret. You certainly didn’t mention it to me over the weekend when we spoke.”

  How am I going to save this? “I wasn’t with them long. We didn’t talk about PR.” I cross my fingers behind my back.

  “This is Strike Two on your probation.”

  Strike Two? I reflexively swallow, although my throat is as dry as the Sahara. Keep it together, Rose. “Greta, really, we didn’t discuss business.”

  “You had no reason to be out with them. Your job is to stay under the radar and get publicity for my clients, not to go out drinking with them.”

  Hmmm . . . Didn’t she instruct Kim to go out for drinks with my boyfriend just last week?

  Greta continues, “Lucky for you, these photos didn’t make the circuit, probably because they look like shit. More importantly, you didn’t inform me about this encounter, which makes me wonder. Are you trying to set something up on your own?

  Eyes wide, I shake my head in denial.

  “I would hope not. You wouldn’t stand a chance in this industry if you double-cross me.”

  “Greta, there’s no way—”

  She cuts me off. “No, there isn’t. My decision stands. Go, get to work. You’re on very thin ice.”

  I nod at her and make what feels like a mile-long trek on legs as solid as jelly. I keep my head down so that no one can see my face, which must be whiter than the tips of my French manicure. Strike Two.

  Finally, I make it to my office. But it’s not empty. Dammit.

  “Good try, Rosie. We’re on to you,” Kim spews.

  Melanie echoes, “Hope you enjoyed your last hurrah with your former talent.”

  “And your ‘boyfriend,’” Kim adds, air quotes included.

&nbs
p; I refuse to explain anything to them. Setting my papers down on my desk, I clear my throat and say, “If you two are finished, I have work to do. Kim, we should talk strategy for Cole’s media blitz.”

  “Rosie, when you have the strategy in place, I’ll take a look at it. Greta wants me to make sure everything runs smoothly for Emilie’s move into your boyfriend’s house today.”

  She and Melanie cackle. If only they knew.

  Thankfully, they leave and my office plunges into silence. Strike Two keeps repeating in my head on a loop. What does that mean exactly? I’d better not mess up again to find out. What will happen if I lose this job? Greta just made it perfectly clear that she’d do everything possible to ruin me. My safety fund only will last six months. Mom’s been doing really well financially recently, but still needs my help to make ends meet. I close my eyes and try to regulate my breathing.

  Concentrate.

  Compartmentalize.

  I open up a spreadsheet on my computer to work on a publicity strategy for Cole’s press tour. On Friday, the world will finally know he’s still a free man. This thought brings me up short. Lisa must know this date is fast approaching, and she’s been suspiciously quiet over the past couple of days.

  Sidetracked, I do searches for Starr/Lisa, but she’s gone radio silent. This is out of character for her. Pulling out my cellphone, I dial Nolan.

  After we exchange pleasantries, I ask, “Have you been able to track Lisa down yet? She’s been quiet over the past couple of days.”

  “We thought we had her on Saturday, but she gave us the slip right as we were about to nab her.”

  Damn. “I guess that explains it.” I glance down at my calendar. “The chapel has to file the wedding paperwork with the Las Vegas courts this Friday for the marriage to be legit. She must be getting desperate.”

  “I need you to stick with Roberto and my guys until this is all over.”

  His mention of Roberto reminds me. “Cole and I have, uh, patched things up. Is it possible for Roberto and Wills to smuggle me into Cole’s later? As you know, Emilie is moving into his house today, but Cole wants me with him.”