A Hollywood Bride (Billionaires' Brides of Convenience Book 2) (11 page)

“I see.” A short pause. “So…why are you with him and not Ryder?” Her voice doesn’t contain any censure, but it isn’t exactly approving either. I would say she’s concerned and maybe even a little worried.

I sigh. “It’s complicated.” And probably poorly thought out. Now that I know the depth of Lauren’s betrayal, I’m not at all certain it’s a smart idea for me to stay with Anthony.

“Paige, are you one hundred percent sure about breaking things off with Ryder?”

I can’t answer her. I thought that would be best, but when he came for me in the midst of chaos… I’ve never seen him so worried or concerned. As trite as it sounds, he looked like an avenging angel coming to save me, eyes flashing and fists pumping. He threw himself into the crowd without any worry for his own safety or his image or…anything.

“Ryder offered me a job,” I blurt out. I’d been thinking about it when those people decided to mob me. Otherwise I might’ve been more aware of my surroundings.

“He did?”

“Yeah. He said I’m going to need the money and benefits, which is true. He even offered to pay for my obstetrician. She’s amazing, but she doesn’t take insurance.”

Bethany’s quiet for a moment. “Do you want to go back to working for him?”

“No. Well, yes.” I sigh. “I don’t know.” I rest my elbows on the railing and cup my forehead in my free hand. “He didn’t say anything I hadn’t already thought of. It’s going to be so much harder for me to get a job with the…scandal and being pregnant and all. And even though I think I’ve been awesome at my job, he can always find somebody else. I’m not arrogant enough to think I’m irreplaceable. And I do need some money, and I
have
to have insurance.”

“Is that all there is?”

“What do you mean?”

“You didn’t tell me everything, and I’m sure there’s stuff I can’t understand since I’m not the one in the relationship with him. And I’ve never dated anybody that famous or high-profile. But before you make any final decisions, don’t just think about the bad things, but the good things as well. I had my doubts when I heard you were engaged to Ryder, but when I saw how he looked at you and defended you against his stepmother at the dinner…” She trails off. I can imagine her eyebrows pinching. She always does that when she’s debating or thinking. “It made me feel good about you and Ryder. Mom and Dad thought so, too.”

“They did?” Simon thought Ryder was a womanizing jerk. Okay, maybe not quite a jerk, but something pretty close.

“Yeah. I spoke with them at the party. Dad said he felt a bit relieved about the two of you.”

That’s news to me. I had no idea.

“Paige, all relationships require work. It’s just that…sometimes the payoff isn’t worth it. So if you feel that way about Ryder, then I support your decision to end the relationship. If not, then…”

“But he doesn’t trust me, Bethany,” I say. “That’s why I thought it’d be better if we stop now, before we go too far.”

She thinks about that for a few moments. “Did he
say
he doesn’t trust you?”

“The tape.” I swallow. Just thinking about it leaves me shaking with rage and humiliation. “He thought I released it.”

Bethany gasps. “Is he insane?”

“No. It’s just his experience. That’s what women in Hollywood do.”

“But you’re not, you know… One of them.”

“Not to Ryder. To him, every woman wants to be famous.” I rest my chin in my palm. “I feel like he and I just…went over the same territory again and again. Ever since the tape was released, we kept talking about it without ever coming to a decision.”

“But you didn’t really have a chance. You were at the hospital, and now this.”

Suddenly tired, I close my eyes. Bethany is probably right. Ryder and I have gone through so many experiences since the night of our engagement party, charged with high emotions, most of them dark and ugly.

Bethany huffs out a breath audibly. “That job he offered… Is it your old job?”

“Yes.”

“So if he doesn’t trust you, why would he do that? It doesn’t make sense. You’re going to be able to access all his information.”

I pause. That never occurred to me, but Bethany’s right. He doesn’t hire anybody without vetting them thoroughly first and making them sign a non-disclosure agreement.

So maybe… Maybe Ryder
does
trust me after all, but he just doesn’t quite know it yet or hasn’t transitioned from “I trust Paige my Assistant” to “I trust Paige my Bride-to-Be.”

I gaze out at the LA cityscape. In spite of calling me babe and having me clean up his messes, he’s always treated me with respect. He never questioned the way I did my job or let anybody else boss me around. Not even Mira could treat me like the hired help in front of Ryder. And after we decided to marry for a year, he kept his promise to ensure I was never humiliated or hurt. I look down at the gorgeous engagement ring. He didn’t have to go that far, but he did. He made sure I’ll have sufficient funds after our divorce to be comfortable. He never once raised his voice or acted out in anger until Shaun released the sex tape.

He’s reacting to Lauren’s betrayal
.
It’s really not you
.

Maybe he’s trying to make amends in the only way he knows how. For all his popularity and good looks, he can be clueless at times, and he is very careful about giving too much of himself to anybody. It isn’t surprising, given what I know. His folks easily win the Worst Parents of All Time award, and his grandmother sounds like a horror show. If she was even remotely like Ryder’s mother, I’m certain the older woman never hid the fact that she thought Ryder was retarded.

“Paige? You’re awfully quiet,” Bethany says.

“Yeah… You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

“All helpful, I hope?”

“Of course.” I smile my first true smile since Shaun released the tape. “Thank you.”

I can’t fix the pain we’ve suffered, but I can certainly do something about our future. I go back inside.

TJ looks up from his phone, raising an eyebrow.

I inhale deeply. “I’m going home.”

Ryder

“Is Paige all right?” Elliot asks, a glass of scotch in his hand. He came over when he heard—or to be more precise
saw
—what happened outside Jones & Jones. The assholes who filmed the fight uploaded the clip everywhere, and it’s not even five. I don’t get the motivation behind doing such things, but maybe posting it on YouTube is supposed to be more heroic than helping the victim.

Sinking deeper into the living room couch that faces the garden, I drink my scotch. It burns. Too bad it can’t burn away the nasty taste in the back of my throat. “As far as I know.”

“And you?”

“I’m not the one who got attacked.”

“You shielded her…”

“Not the same thing.” My voice is terse.

Elliot shakes his head. “How did it happen?”

“I have no idea. Paige left first. When I got to the lobby, she was already outside and the attack had started.”

“Damn.” He knocks back his scotch. “Mira was right after all.”

“About what?”

“She said when a woman has sex, she’s a slut. And when a woman is labeled a slut, she’s fair game.”

Elliot isn’t saying anything I didn’t know. I’ve seen how female celebrities end up being a Public Target Number One. But Paige isn’t a celebrity. “I had no idea it was this bad for her.”

“She never complained?”

“Once. A little bit.” She told me the only reason she agreed to the interview with Derek Madison was to tell her side of the story because she was tired of people making stuff up about her, portraying her badly. I rejected that explanation, telling myself she just wanted to be famous.

I squeeze my eyes shut. How could I have been so wrong?

Elliot wisely says nothing for a moment, letting me stew in self-recrimination. “She’s just being targeted more because she doesn’t fit the image of a deserving woman.”

Raising my head, I look at him. “What the hell does that mean?”

“You know. She’s not model gorgeous, not from a rich or famous family, not a size zero, didn’t go to some fancy school, and didn’t have some kind of noble job.”

“What the hell is a ‘noble’ job?”

“Like feeding children or advocating for abused women or whatever.”

My face scrunches. Shallow, judgmental people piss me off. “First of all, Paige is gorgeous. It isn’t my fault that people can’t see that. And you don’t have to be rich or famous or a size zero, or have an Ivy League diploma to be worthy. If that’s the criteria, people should pelt
me
with eggs and tomatoes.” I have the looks, wealth and a famous family behind me, but I don’t have anything else.

“But you’re a guy.”

“So?”

“So it’s okay. The requirement is only for women.”

“What the fuck?”

He shrugs. “Just how it is. Society is harsh on women. You know that.”

I let my head fall back onto the thick cushion. Chandeliers hang from the high ceilings in the living room, one of them right over my position. It infuriates me that she’s being treated unfairly and that I had no idea all this time. I promised her I would ensure she wasn’t humiliated or hurt by our arrangement, and I failed to keep my word.

My phone pings with a text. I ignore it. I don’t want to talk to anybody right now. If it’s urgent, they can call.

“That might be Paige,” Elliot says.

“No, it isn’t. It’s probably some junk.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Where is she?”

“Not here.”

“Oh.” He nods sagely. The thing I like about him is that he knows me well. But sometimes he knows me too well. “Is she at her actress friend’s?”

“No.” The word grates out. If it were so, there wouldn’t be that nasty taste lingering in the back of my throat.

“Are you guys okay?”

I consider. I don’t want to answer him since it isn’t anything pretty, and I feel like if I say it out loud, it’s going to become real—a reality I won’t be able to ignore.

There’s no way to spin her decision to accept Anthony’s offer. She might as well have sliced my balls off. A dark apprehension in my gut say she’s also going to turn down my proposal at Samantha’s office. I shove it down deeper before it makes me do something rash.

“Ryder?”

I almost jump off the couch at the soft voice coming from behind me. I turn and blink. I didn’t imagine it.

Paige.

She’s in the same clothes she had on earlier, albeit freshly laundered. Still, the ketchup and mustard stains are visible on her top. The tear in the sleeve hasn’t been mended.

Her face is bare, free of makeup, and her hair hangs limply over her shoulders. Something fragile lurks in her gaze, and my heart leaps to my throat.

I don’t know what to say. People think that I never run out of perfect lines. I suppose that makes sense if they only know me through cinema. After all it’s easy to be fearless on set. I have the words, emotions, and props. I know exactly how my costars are going to react.

But here, at this moment, I feel like a derelict actor who didn’t bother to study his script. Sweat slickens my palms, and my brain works frantically to come up with something to say.

Elliot squeezes my shoulder, nods at Paige, and leaves.

Finally I manage, “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“It felt wrong to stay there.” Paige’s voice is barely a whisper. She meets my eyes for a brief moment then drops her gaze. “I shouldn’t have gone with Anthony.”

She doesn’t have to say anything more.

I step forward and wrap my arms around her. The tightness in my chest eases, and I can breathe again. Unable to help myself, I bury my nose in her hair. I absorb her warmth and her softness and the sweet scent that is uniquely hers. Of all the women I know, she’s the only one who can seem to comfort my soul. What my brain and experience tell me means nothing when I feel like this, a weary man finding sanctuary.

Does it matter that the sanctuary may be temporary?

“You made the right decision,” I rasp out. “Welcome home.”

* * *

The dinner offerings could be described as, well, masculine. The chef initially prepared it for me and Elliot.

The lamb chops are amazing, a fresh mint sauce really bringing out the flavor of the meat. I realize how little I’ve eaten all day, which isn’t like me. And the potatoes, garnished with some sort of green flecks that kind of look like mint but aren’t, are excellent as well.

In deference to Paige’s condition, I forgo a glass of cabernet, opting for ginger ale instead. To be honest, I’d prefer some scotch to loosen up the small knot in my gut. Even though she’s back, I can’t really relax. She hasn’t mentioned my proposal back at Samantha’s office, and there’s the whole unresolved “if you don’t trust me, we shouldn’t marry” business.

“Don’t force yourself to eat this. We can always get you something else,” I say, watching Paige cut the meat with care. I don’t recall her liking lamb before. She’s more a steak and chicken kind of girl. Besides, she’s entirely too pale, with circles under her eyes so dark they almost look like bruises. I can’t help but think I’ve contributed to that by being stubborn. I’ve probably been a terrible dickhead if Elizabeth felt compelled to call me the a-word.

“But why? This is fine.” She pops a small piece into her mouth and chews.

“I don’t want you to get sick afterwards.” My eyebrows pinch together as I study her expression for any signs of distaste. “I know you’re supposed to be all nauseous and everything when you’re pregnant.”

The smile she gives me is bemused. Warmth unfurls in my chest, and some of the ugliness that’s built up since the night of our engagement party ebbs away.

“Not everyone suffers from morning sickness,” she tells me. “I’ve been okay so far. And the doctor at the hospital didn’t seem too worried about my diet.”

That reminds me… “Have you seen Dr. Silverman?”

Paige shakes her head. “She’s out of the country right now.”

“When is she coming back?”

“Day after tomorrow. And I have an appointment with her at eleven.”

“Okay. I’ll take you in.”

Her lips part, then she shakes her head. “You don’t have to.”

“I insist.” I hesitate, then add, “I don’t ever want to go through that again.”