A Hollywood Deal(17)
Just the idea that I could be pregnant in this situation would crush Mom and disappoint Simon. And I’d rather eat broken glass.
Suddenly the door to my suite crashes open. I jackknife in bed, a scream welling in my chest.
The light comes on, blinding me for a moment. Ryder is leaning against the doorframe to the bedroom.
He’s so drunk, his eyes are bleary and he can barely stand. He gives me a smile. “Good morning.”
“It’s after one.” I pull the sheet all the way to my chin. I’m in an oversized, comfy pink t-shirt and white shorts with yellow smiley faces. The bright glittery pink GODDESS across my chest doesn’t change the fact that I refuse to face him in bed without some kind of shield. Even drunk he still exudes power and magnetism, and my hormones aren’t entirely immune to him.
“So. Morning.” His smile turns crooked. “Good morning.”
I roll my eyes in an attempt to ignore the warmth coursing through me. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s my suite.”
“No. Yours is next door.”
“Mmm. That’s not what I heard.” He stumbles forward.
I jump out of the bed to catch him. If he hurts himself, Mira will flay me alive.
He manages to right himself, grabbing one of the posts on the bed frame, and points at my shorts. “Cute. I like ’em. The worl’ needs more happiness.”
My cheeks flame. I’ve never, ever presented myself in anything except the most put-together, professional light, and him seeing me in my old, comfy things is totally embarrassing. Which is ridiculous, of course. Everyone wears comfy things and chills after work.
“I’ll buy you a pair for your birthday,” I say, keeping my voice tart.
“Awesome.” He puts a hand on my cheek. He’s very, very hot…like he’s burning within. Probably the alcohol. “Also… Paige?”
I lick my lower lip. “Yes?”
“Will you marry me?”
Chapter Six
Paige
I stare into Ryder’s eyes. I know he’s drunk. But I never knew he did drugs.
There’s no way he’s proposing to me without being high on something extremely potent.
“Did you…um…do some kind of recreational chemical experiment?” I’m going to kill Elliot. Ryder has never done drugs before, not in the four years I’ve worked for him.
“Did I what?”
I cringe at how loud he is. “Do drugs,” I hiss.
He laughs. “No. But I drank about a hunnert thousand bucks’ worth of scotch. Good shit. Shane recommended it.”
Shane is Ryder’s cousin, the youngest man on the Pryce side of the family. I’ve never met the guy personally, but from what I’ve heard, he’s sensible. Besides, as far as I know, he lives in L.A., not D.C. “I’m sure he didn’t tell you to drink a hundred thousand bucks’ worth of scotch.”
Elliot, on the other hand? Yup.
Ryder shakes his head. “No. He recommended the liquor. Good stuff.”
I’m thinking, For that kind of money, it better pilot his jet and chauffeur his Ferrari, too, when Ryder puts his hand on my shoulder and locks eyes with me. “So.”
I shrink back at the sudden intensity in his gaze, but he doesn’t let go. “Is that a no?” Another burst of laughter, this one quieter. “I can’t believe I’m even asking. No woman can say no to me.”
“Maybe one can.”
“Only for a year. Promise. I’ll give you whatever you want.” He scowls. “It’s going to be the biggest joke. A fake marriage that’s more real than the CGI people believe. But I’ll be damned if Dad fucks me over. Fucks us all over. That asshole.”
“Ryder, you are drunk. Really drunk. Maybe we can talk about it tomorrow.”
I wish he’d gone and trashed a hotel suite with Elliot. I’d rather deal with an irate letter from an unhappy manager than this.
Because this? This is dangerous. And I don’t have to be a genius to know it.
Ryder pulls me close and buries his face in the crook of my neck. His breath fans over my skin, and warm shivers go through me.
“I promise you won’t regret it,” he mumbles. “Make you the envy of the world.”
“Ryder—”
His arms tighten around me, cutting me off. He falls on the bed, dragging me down. I yelp. Somehow he manages to cushion me, then rolls until I’m lying under him.
“Say yes, Paige. I need the painting,” he speaks against my neck.
His hard body presses down on mine, and my skin prickles. I don’t dare say a word because I don’t trust myself to be rational. Not when my brain can’t seem to process any thought except, Oh my god, Ryder Reed is on top of me! Ohmygod, Ryder Reed is on top of me! Ohmygod, RyderReedisontopofme!