Hollywood Love: Book 14: A sexy celebrity romance (Hollywood Billionaires) Read online

  He hugs me. “I already have everything I desire. I just want to make it official in the eyes of the church.”

  “Your bride and I will figure out everything else. Come, my dear,” she says to me, “let me show you the gardens.”

  Juan takes my handbag, tells me it will be delivered to our room, and deeply kisses me. “Until we meet again.”

  Gawd, he’s so freaking romantic.

  His mother motions for me to follow her, and even though I am going to plan my wedding, I feel a little like I’m being taken to the principal’s office.

  In school, they taught us how to know the difference between two words that sounded the same—principal and principle. They said that our school principal was our friend. All I know is, that was not a true statement. The man at my school did not give two shits. I didn’t want to leave school. I wanted to graduate and go to college, but when I tried to explain why I was absent, been late, or missed a test, he didn’t want to hear about my home life or try to help me in any way. And, when he threatened expulsion for my truancy—like I’d wanted to skip school and stay home with my drugged-out-of-her-mind mother—I had to drop out. I was afraid the state would take me if they saw our living conditions, and I’d heard horror stories about that. At least my mother’s behavior was consistent. I knew what to expect. Knew how to deal with it. Knew when to hide in my room and be quiet and when not to. I’d learned to shoplift food from a young age just so I could eat.

  And, now, I’m standing in a castle with a twenty-five-million-dollar diamond on my finger, and I’m actually in love with the man who put it there.

  Really, I owe Riley a thank-you.

  Oh, shit. Riley.

  I almost forgot about him. I need to message him back. Now.

  “Mrs. Martinez, would you mind terribly if I went to our room to briefly freshen up before we got started?”

  “Of course not, dear. I’ll have Fernando escort you, and he can bring you back when you are ready. That will give me a few moments to speak to my assistant. I assume you don’t have a dress?”

  “Juan mentioned something about calling someone he knew in Milan to find me a white dress. I have shoes I could wear, so all I need really is a simple bouquet.”

  “A simple bouquet?” She laughs. “Oh, my dear, that will not do.”

  Fernando shows me to my room, which really isn’t a bedroom. It’s a gorgeous apartment.

  I find my purse and check my phone. Shit. There are a lot of texts from Riley, wondering where I am.

  I call him. “Hey, sorry, my phone wasn’t working.”

  “Where are you?” he asks. “I called the hotel. I was worried about you!”

  “Oh, you shouldn’t be. I’m fine. Just on an unplanned trip.”

  “To where?” he demands.

  Do I tell him? No. I haven’t passed the mother test yet, and really, until Juan and I are actually married, I can’t say anything. If this all happens, I’ll tell Riley the truth and apologize. Until then, I need to keep him on the hook, just in case. It is really horrible of me, but whatever. A girl has to do what a girl has to do.

  “Do you remember my friend, the one I loaned the money to so that she could start her own nail salon? She asked me to come for her grand opening.”

  “That’s fine, Shelby. I just wish you had told me where you would be.”

  “You didn’t tell me where you would be, Riley,” I fire back. “I just got a text, saying you were gone.”

  “Well, that’s more than I got. If you must know, I have been in London for a friend’s wedding and to celebrate my birthday.”

  “Oh, Riley, when is your birthday?”

  “It was yesterday.”

  “Well, happy birthday. I hope you had a great day. When will you be back in town?”

  “When will you be back?” he asks in a snippy tone.

  “Probably not until next week. You?”

  “Monday. Just message me when you get back, and we’ll reschedule our dinner,” he says. “I’m sorry I’m being a dick. I was just worried about you and the baby. Don’t just up and leave again like that.”

  I feel a pang of guilt. No doubt I’m going to hell for lying to him, but as I look at the gilded four-poster bed and the luxurious furnishings, I decide it’s worth it.

  “I won’t, Riley. I’m sorry.”

  I quickly hang up, take a pee, make sure my nose isn’t shiny, and then leave the room, taking my handbag with me this time. I’d like to stay and check it all out, but I don’t want to piss his mother off by keeping her waiting. A butler—no, she referred to him as a footman; whatever that is—is waiting outside the door for me, like it’s his job.

  I’m following him through the castle to an expansive terrace overlooking a beautiful garden when I realize it actually is his job.

  On the terrace, I see that Juan’s mother has been joined by another woman.

  She quickly introduces us. “Shelby, I’d like you to meet my personal secretary, Rosario. I’ve informed her of the news.”

  “Congratulations,” Rosario says. She then proceeds to run through so many options that it makes my head spin. I often ask Mrs. Martinez for her opinion and defer to it because I don’t have a freaking clue. Really, about the only input I offer up is that my favorite color is pink.

  That causes Juan’s mother to clap. “Are you sure you don’t understand the Day of the Dead traditions?” she inquires.

  “Not really. Where I’m from, we just celebrate Halloween. But I was baptized and given first communion in the Catholic church”—back when my grandmother was alive and took me to church every Sunday—“and we always went to mass on All Saints’ Day. Although, once, I went to a parade in Los Angeles that had a lot of skulls and stuff.”

  Juan’s mother smiles at me, seemingly thrilled that we share the same religion. I don’t bother to mention that I haven’t been to church since my grandmother died when I was nine.

  Another household employee—this one dressed in all white, including gloves, and deemed the underbutler, which I think means he’s below the butler in the house hierarchy—brings a bucket filled with ice and a bottle of vintage champagne. She rattles off the titles of some other staff, but I’m too busy taking it all in.

  “We must toast to my future daughter-in-law,” Mrs. Martinez says. She raises her glass. “Salud.”

  I hesitate for a moment, knowing I shouldn’t drink.

  I notice her closely watching me, so I take a sip and offer a dazzling smile. I am a beaming very-soon-to-be bride.

  “Well, you will be happy to know that pink flowers mean celebration and are a very important part of the Day of the Dead, and we will use them in abundance.”

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Jillian is a USA TODAY bestselling author who writes fun romanc
es with characters her readers fall in love with, from the boy next door in the That Boy trilogy to the daughter of a famous actress in The Keatyn Chronicles to a kick-ass young assassin in the Spy Girl series.

  She lives in a small Florida beach town, is married to her college sweetheart, has two grown children, and two Labrador Retrievers named Cali and Camber. When she's not working, she likes to travel, paint, shop for shoes, watch football, and go to the beach.

  Check out Jillian’s website for added content and to sign up for her newsletter.