Hollywood Love: Book 6: A sexy celebrity romance (Hollywood Billionaires) Read online

  “Because she was in a severe depression.”

  “Why?”

  “I really don’t want to talk about it, Vanessa. I told you she struggled with depression. I’m sorry I brought up my wedding. I didn’t mean to.”

  “Oh,” she says. “It’s okay.” But I can tell it’s not really.

  She’s quiet for a minute then says, “So tomorrow night is the party. What do you want to do Friday night? I think if we’re able to pull this all off, we should go out and celebrate.”

  “I can’t on Friday night. The girls will be in town.”

  “We’ll include them in the celebration.”

  “I think that I need to spend the weekend with them, uh, alone.” I stress.

  “Oh,” she says again.

  Then there’s silence.

  “We’ve been making plans all week for what they want to do when they get here. They deserve my full attention,” I say, then trying to make it up to her, I slide my hand onto her thigh. “And you are a beautiful distraction.”

  She immediately stands up. “Well, since we’re all finished up here, I’m heading home. Thanks for all your help today, Dawson. I’ll see you bright and early in the morning.”

  “You don’t want to come back to my place for a massage?”

  “No, I’m very tired. It’s been a long day. Good night, Dawson,” she says, then quickly walks out the door.

  Shit.

  Riley’s Penthouse - L.A.

  RILEY

  I’m sitting alone in my penthouse staring out at the view, trying to avoid the phone in my lap.

  After the photo shoot, Keatyn sent me home but asked me to keep my phone on. Thankfully, I was so tired I did nothing but shower and then fall on my bed and pass out.

  But, now, the phone is taunting me.

  I have twenty-four unread text messages, waiting to be read.

  I have no idea who they are from, but I’m sure at least one is from Ariela.

  I’m trying not to obsess over whether or not I should read them, but that’s exactly what’s on my mind.

  Fuck it.

  I know I probably shouldn’t go out after everything that’s happened, but I don’t feel like being alone.

  So I’m going to the bar for just one drink.

  I’m at the bar for about ten minutes when I notice two young blondes staring at me, then talking about me, then looking at their phones to confirm what they thought; that I am indeed Riley Johnson.

  I roll my eyes and look around the room, searching for someone who might not know who I am. Who might not care what I could do for their career.

  My mind flits back to Ariela holding her shoes and wrapped in her husband’s arms.

  Next thing I know, a high-pitched voice says boldly, “Buy me a drink?”

  I turn, wondering if that line actually works for her. The girl has a fresh-faced Midwestern look set on the body of a porn star.

  I’m thinking it does.

  “Sure, why not?” I raise my finger in the air to summon the bartender. “Get this lady a drink.”

  She orders some sort of fruity concoction and quickly downs it.

  Then she sets to work on me; touching my arm, giggling, leaning forward to allow me a closer look at her cleavage, which is prominently on display in a low-cut, skintight dress.

  “You wanna get out of here?” I ask. I’m not in the mood for flirting. I’m in the mood for fucking.

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  When the valet pulls up in tonight’s ride, you can practically see the dollar signs blazing in her eyes.

  “Ohmigawd! You have a Poorsh,” she exclaims, slaughtering the Porsche name.

  On the short drive to my penthouse, she gives me an excellent blowjob, which is always a sign of good things to come.

  Pun intended.

  Once she’s naked on my bed, I reach into my nightstand and pull out a couple silk scarves. This chick looks a little like Shelby, and I’m thinking she may have the same taste in sex.

  “I’m going to tie you up,” I tell her.

  Her eyes get big but then she quickly purrs, “Of course. Whatever you want.”

  Once she’s pinned to my bed, I position myself above her.

  But the closer I get to her the more scared she looks.

  Is she afraid?

  Of me?

  I study her more closely, realizing she looks pretty young. But she had to be twenty-one to be at the bar.

  I think back to my college days and the fake IDs we all had.

  “How old are you?”

  “Twenty,” she says, but she’s not a good actress.

  “How old are you really?” I ask sternly.

  “Um, nineteen.”

  “And how long have you been in L.A.?”

  “A year.”

  “And why are you here with me?”

  “Because you're hot,” she says, trying to convince me, but not succeeding.

  I frown and shake my head, suddenly pissed.

  “Don't lie to me! Why are you here? Why did you come home with me when you don't even know me?”

  She doesn't bother trying to act this time, but she still lies. “Your name doesn’t matter, baby. I think you're sexy.”

  I get in her face. “Tell me the fucking truth.”

  She sighs, her perky breasts rising and falling. “Fine. Because you're Riley Johnson.”

  I sit on top of her, grab a pocketknife from my bedside table, and flip open the blade.

  Her eyes get huge and she starts to cry. “What . . . What are you gonna do with the knife?”

  I quickly cut the ties, jump off her, and pull on my pants. My boner is long gone.

  “Get out of here,” I command.

  She sits up.

  “Wait! It's fine. I'm kinky. I love that stuff. I was just acting. Pretending to be inexperienced. I'd be perfect for the role of Miranda in the new teen romance you're casting.”

  I narrow my eyes at her.

  “Get the fuck out of here. And for the record, serious actresses don't have to sleep with the producer to get a role. They're good actresses. I have never and will never hire a girl who acts like a whore.”

  “Word about that gets out and you'll never get a date,” she mutters as she's pulling on her dress.

  I take two steps toward her and grab her by the arm. “What the fuck did you say?”

  She glares at me. “I’m sure you heard exactly what I said. Are you stupid? Why else would I want to sleep with some old guy? I'm just tired of getting nowhere.”

  She grabs her purse and storms out of the bedroom in tears.

  I follow her toward my elevator, push the button, and don't give a shit about how she gets home.

  Fuck.

  I plop down on my hard, modern leather sofa. Then quickly get back up and stare down at what the interior designer called a statement piece.

  I look around at my penthouse. Dark woods, sleek furniture, lots of metal and leather.

  It's like the inside of a fucking car, not a home.

  I grab my phone and call Aiden.

  Keatyn answers. “Riley, this better not be your one call from jail."

  I glance at the modern clock above my fireplace, realizing how late it is.

  "It's not. Sorry, I know it's late. Fuck. Can I come over? I need to talk to Aiden."

  "Of course you can, Riley. Are you okay?"

  “Not really,” I say and hang up.

  I hit an app on my phone to get a black car. I'm not in the mood to drive.

  On the way to Malibu, I wonder what in the hell I'm even going to say to Aiden. Truth is, I needed to get out of my cold penthouse.

  I have the driver drop me off at the public beach.

  I take my shoes off and walk in the sand, then sneak under the chain link fence into the Malibu Colony. I look up at the moon, thankful for the light.

  I close my eyes and take a deep breath, then make my way up their deck and knock on the window.

  Aiden
comes to the door wearing just shorts.

  “Is that what you wear to bed?” I ask as he lets me in.

  “Did you come out here at two in the morning to ask me that?” he chuckles.

  “No. Where's Keatyn?”

  “I told her to go back to sleep.”

  “She gonna listen to you?”

  He laughs. “Probably not. So, what's going on?”

  “A girl I brought home tonight called me an old guy. When did we become old guys?”

  “Well, I am almost thirty.”

  “Fine. You're an old guy. I’m still twenty-eight for a few more days. Do I look old?”

  “You look successful, Riley,” Keatyn says, walking into the study wearing a short silk robe and carrying a tray of warm, fresh-from-the-oven chocolate chip cookies and three tall glasses of milk.

  “I’m gonna defer to her on that,” Aiden says. “No offense, but I don't really pay attention to how you look.”

  Keatyn hands me a plate with four cookies and I take a glass of milk off the tray. When I got here, I wanted a scotch, but this is even better.

  As I bite into the gooey cookie, I survey their home, wondering why it’s one of my favorite places. The walls are the color of sand. There's a worn leather chair in the corner and photos on the shelves. It smells clean like the ocean. And I realize it reminds me of our place in the Hamptons, where I’m surrounded by family.

  And that’s how I feel here; like I’m surrounded by family.

  “These are good,” I tell her. “Thanks.”

  She's perched on the edge of Aiden's chair. One of his hands is protectively wrapped around her side and the other is bringing a cookie to his mouth.

  Me, I'm double fisting it; cookie in one hand, milk in the other.

  Bite. Drink. Repeat.

  Keatyn gets up and gives Aiden a kiss. “I’ll let you boys talk.” On the way out of the room, she kisses the top of my head. “If you dated girls your own age, Riley, you wouldn't feel old.”

  “How does she always know what's wrong before I even say it?” I ask Aiden, who's now double fisting milk and cookies too.

  “Is that really why you're here? Because a girl called you old?”

  “That's part of it.”

  “It's Ariela, isn't it?”

  “It's all of it. I'm tired of fucking a different girl every night. It's exhausting. My penthouse feels cold. I have so much stuff—”

  “And no one to share it with?” he says, finishing my sentence.

  “Yeah.”

  “And the girl you want to share it with broke your heart. Twice now.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Riley, what do they say about Captive Films? About you?”

  I chuckle. “That I'm the king of romance. Ironic, huh? I haven't romanced a girl since her.”

  “What's the one thing about romance? About love?”

  “It's a risk. If I could just get inside her head and know what she’s thinking. It's funny, really. You know how Keatyn turned her journals into the screenplays and now the books. She was telling me the other day that readers are clamoring for a book from your point of view.”

  “You know she won’t allow that. She says it would ruin the story.”

  “Exactly. If the audience would’ve known what you were thinking, there wouldn't have been any drama or mystery.”

  “And they'd be pissed to know that although I did totally fall in love with her that day, I still mostly wanted to sleep with her. I thought after my prom gone bad that I had grown up and was different, but I still had a lot of growing up to do. We both did. I was crazy about her but there were times when I wanted to give up. Times when I thought we'd never make it. Love requires work, Riley. It's risking your heart. It's wooing her when she has a boyfriend or is still seeing her ex. You and Ariela never had much drama. Once you asked her out, you never really broke up. I mean, until that day.”

  “Graduation day,” I say, taking a gulp of milk and shoving another cookie into my mouth.

  “Riley, did you fight for her?”

  I hang my head. “I was too devastated to fight. Then I was pissed. Then it was too late.”

  “She's back. You have a chance. Why don’t you stop fucking around and take it?”

  “If she—”

  “If she breaks your heart, we’ll deal with it,” he tells me. “Call her and find out what really happened.”

  “What do you mean? I know what happened.”

  “Riley, you’re trying to fuck your feelings away. It’s not going to work. And what do you know exactly?”

  “I don’t care what Vanessa says. I know what I saw.”

  “Yeah, you saw her husband kiss her.”

  “That was enough.”

  “Did you bother to ask him why he kissed her?”

  “No! Why the fuck would I do that? It’s her fucking husband.”

  “You did once before. Don’t you remember?”

  “What do you mean?” I ask, bewildered.

  “Remember Christmas break senior year? You were at Ariela’s house and some guy dropped by.”

  “Yeah, her idiot ex-boyfriend. He tried to kiss her and I whooped his ass.”

  “So, why didn’t you whoop Collin’s ass this time?”

  “Wait? What the fuck? Are you telling me that’s who she married?”

  “Yeah.”

  “But he was such a douche!”

  “Still is, from what I gather. Riley, if you’re going to have a relationship with Ariela, you have to talk to her. You have to believe her when she tells you what happened. The Riley I know would have seen him kiss her, walked straight up to him, knocked him the fuck out, and—”

  “—asked questions later,” I say along with him. I take another cookie. “You’re right. I’ve become a pussy.”

  Aiden laughs. “You haven’t become a pussy. You can’t knock someone out in business when things don’t go your way. I’d say you’re more refined. But you haven’t been in love for a while. You’re out of practice.”

  “It always seems so easy for you and Keatyn.”

  “It’s not. We make it work because we want it to work. Our relationship has always been our number one priority. You know how many roles she’s turned down because of scheduling. Riley, I’m going to ask you one question. It’s the only question that really matters. Do you still love Ariela?”

  I slowly nod.

  “Then go fucking do something about it and don’t let anything get in the way.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes, now.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “I think Keatyn and Dallas are right. I need to go back to Eastbrooke and put the past behind me before I can move on.”

  “Does that mean you’re going?”

  “Yeah, I am.”

  “Then congratulations are in order too. Riley Johnson CEO & Chairman of the Board has a nice ring to it.”

  “I was so shocked, I never asked her why she was promoting me.”

  Keatyn walks out with another plate of cookies and sets them on the table. “Why don’t you just stay here tonight, Riley.” It’s hard to even look at her. I’m so overcome with emotion. I’m so lucky to have such good friends. “I’m promoting you for a lot of reasons but mostly because you deserve it.”

  “Is one of the reasons because you want to slow down?”

  “We want to spend more time at the vineyard,” Aiden says. “Raise our family there.”

  “That sounds nice,” I say.

  “I want to take some time off and just write scripts for a while. It’s what I love. And I want that for you too, Riley,” Keatyn tells me. “Dallas has always been so good about having balance between his personal and professional life. You and I need to do a better job of it. That’s part of why I brought Dawson in. I want you to groom him to be your successor. Once you feel he’s ready to take over as CEO, you’ll retain the Chairman of the Board title and only have to attend board meetings.”

/>   “It would be cool to only work on the fun projects. I’ve been sorta itching to produce again. Be on set more often.”

  “It’s not like you even need to work anymore, Riley. You have plenty of money. You should be doing what you love.”

  “And finding love?” I say with a smirk, knowing where the conversation is headed.

  “At least having the time for love,” she replies.

  Thursday, October 9th

  Captive Films — Santa Monica

  VANESSA

  The Purity Party invitations have been delivered, the event is being set up, and I’m leaning back in Keatyn’s office chair taking a breather when Avery steps in. She started work today as a Captive Films intern and jumped straight into the fire.

  “So, I will admit, I follow most of the big tabloids,” she says. “Something just got posted that you should see.”

  “Is it good or bad?”

  “I know how good my sister is at handling the press. She says she learned from our mom and Knox. I showed this to a couple people in the marketing department and they were shocked, which means my sister, and probably you, planned it that way. My guess is the Vegas thing was as bad as it seemed, and you two turned it around to make it look like a publicity stunt. Am I right?”

  “Close the door,” I tell her. “Have you told anyone else your thoughts?”

  “No. If I’m right, we wouldn’t want anyone to know.”

  I nod my head at her. “You’re very astute for someone your age, Avery.”

  She does a little clap. “I knew I was right!”

  “Are you having fun today?”

  “Actually, yes. I kind of thought working here might be corporate and boring, but it’s not. Everyone is cool.”

  “Keatyn told me she wants you to try your hand at the different divisions of the company, but what’s your passion?”

  She looks at her feet.

  “What?” I say. “You can tell me.”

  “I know the tabloids say things to sell papers. I know some of the things they print are lies set in a teeny bit of truth. I know some are boldfaced lies. But it’s exciting, don’t you think? The way people are perceived in public. The face they choose to show. The trouble they get into. How it can be manipulated.”