A Hollywood Deal(81)

I go downstairs to look for her. When I spot Sue I ask, “Have you seen my fiancée?”

“I think she was going to the guest house.”

Damn it. I wanted to talk before she saw Maggie and Simon. I don’t give a shit what my parents think, but Paige isn’t like that with hers.

After grabbing a cup of coffee, I make my way over to the guest house. The housekeeper there informs me that Paige is having breakfast with her family.

I go straight to the kitchen. The three of them are sitting at the counter. Paige is between Maggie and Simon, and both of them are making sure to touch her, constantly reassuring her with their presence and love.

There’s some tension, but underneath is something tight and warm. It’s an invisible shield that keeps everyone else on the outside. A bond runs through the three that says they have each other’s backs.

The scene transfixes me even as a sharp pang of longing pierces my heart. Grandpa used to do that for me when Grandma Shirley or Mom would say something particularly nasty. And I thought I’d have it again when I had his portrait. But now I wonder if I have it all wrong.

I swallow and rasp, “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

All three of them turn around to look at me. I notice the red rims around Paige’s eyes, and the sight of her misery is like a jab to the gut. Whether she planned the video or not, I don’t like seeing her in pain.

Simon gives me a glare. “Well. What do you intend to do about the scandal?”

“Simon!” Paige gasps.

“I’ll have my team handle it, of course.” I don’t plan to tell her stepfather more than that when Paige and I haven’t had a chance to talk first. “Paige, can we have a moment after you’re finished with breakfast?”

“Actually, I’m afraid I can’t. I have an appointment.”

I frown. I can’t imagine what kind of appointment she might have on a Saturday. Or what could be more important than the conversation we need to have. “Um…it’s not a doctor’s appointment, is it?” I’m pretty sure no doctor’s seeing a patient today unless it’s an emergency.

She flushes. “No. It’s personal. But we can talk afterward.”

I pull back at the stiffness in her voice. She’s never taken that tone with me, not even when she was upset over my purposely missing family gatherings or pretending not to understand what she was saying. I suddenly realize how much of her warmth I’ve been taking for granted. I never once thought it would vanish, no matter what.

I want to insist that she talk to me now, but I’m acutely aware of our audience. “All right. We can talk afterward. Just let me know. I’ll be around.”

She looks at me dispassionately and nods once. “I’ll do that.”





Chapter Thirty-Four



Paige

I climb inside my old car and speed off the property.

Ryder told me to stay away from Anthony, but I don’t know if he’s as dangerous as Ryder made him sound. I’m certain most of Ryder’s worry has to do with their bitter history.

I pull over and dig out Anthony’s business card from my purse. It only has an office number. Does it forward to a voicemail, or someone who can get in touch with him directly?

I flip it idly then stop. The back of it has ten neatly hand-written digits. Underneath it says CALL ME.

Did he know I’d end up needing to talk to him when he gave me the card? My hands clammy, I text him instead. This is Paige. Can you tell me about Lauren?

When? he replies.

Now.

A beat passes by before he responds: Come to Z.

I merge into the traffic and drive to the club. Amazingly, there aren’t that many cars on the road. I spot a white SUV and a black Escalade tailing me.

I snort. Tailing. Yeah right. More like we’re just going in the same direction. I must be getting paranoid after all the uproar. Bethany texted me four times already this morning to check up on me, and I owe her a call after I’m done getting answers about Lauren.

About an hour later, I park my car in a semi-deserted parking garage a block away from Z and walk over. The club looks different during the day.

No long line snaking around the building. No lights. No throbbing heartbeat of club music. It looks as empty as an old hermit crab shell.

I knock on the main door, and it opens soundlessly. A man stands on the other side. He’s in a dark crew neck t-shirt and black shorts, revealing legs like sequoias. His arms bulge as he crosses them. “Hey, Paige.”

“Hi, TJ.”

“Mr. Blackwood is waiting for you.” He jerks his chin toward the back. “I’ll show you.”

“Thanks.”

Sunlight beams inside through the thin vertical windows. Little motes of dust float in the air, glinting. The A/C isn’t on, but it’s comfortably cool inside.