Hollywood Prince

by Natasha Madison

  “Sorry, it got late, and by the time I looked at the clock, it was already midnight your time,” I tell her. I smile, walking into the lobby. “Mom, I am not sure I can do this.”

  “Oh, please,” my mother starts, “if anyone can do anything, it’s you.”

  “You are saying that because you are my mom,” I tell her, pressing the button to the elevator.

  “No, I’m telling you this because it’s the truth. If you want it, you will get it. You have never backed down from a fight.” Her voice is calm, and I suddenly miss her.

  “Mom, this isn’t high school where someone called me a name,” I tell her and step in the elevator. “It’s a big deal.”

  “I know it is,” she says. “It’s a dream job, and one you’ve been talking about since you decided this was what you wanted to do.”

  “I just don’t want to let anyone down,” I say, my voice low even though I’m by myself in the elevator.

  “Honey, as long as you give it everything you have, there is no way you can let anyone down.” The elevator pings, and I walk out, almost crashing into a man who walked out of the other elevator. His hands hold both of my hands before I crash into him and spill the coffee.

  “Oh my gosh,” I say softly. The warmth of his hands on my arm makes me look up, and I think I stop breathing. His smell of musk hits me right away. I can’t see his eyes because he’s wearing aviator glasses, but even with them on, I know who this man is. His brown hair looks like he just stepped out of the shower and ran his hands through it, and I think he actually did. A smile starts to come over his face; the famous smirk that graces all the magazine covers.

  “Sorry, sugar,” he says, and his voice comes out smooth.

  “Erin, are you okay?” I hear my mother’s voice through the phone that is still up to my ear.

  “I have to go,” I say to her and bring my hand down. He slowly lets my arms go. “Sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going,” I say and then turn to walk away before I openly gawk at him.

  “If you weren’t a sight to see from the front, you’re an even better sight to see leaving,” he says when I walk away, and I halt in my steps, turning now and taking him in. Twelve hours ago, he had a redhead on his arm, and now he’s looking for a date tonight. He’s wearing blue jeans rolled at the hem that fall over his brown boots. A tattered leather jacket covers his black shirt. “Listen, I have a meeting, but how about we take off when I’m done?” He walks to me as I stand here watching him. “Why don’t you just sit here and wait, and when I come back out, we can take off?”

  “Are you asking me to leave with you?” I ask him, shocked but definitely not surprised. When he smirks, I bite down hard to block my mouth from telling him to fuck off. And before he says anything, I hear Sylvia behind me.

  “Carter, good, you’re here,” she says, coming to us. “We are just waiting for you.”

  His smirk disappears, and he takes off his glasses. It’s the wrong move because now I can see his green-blue eyes. “I’ll be out in ten minutes, fifteen minutes the most,” he says, and I just look at Sylvia.

  “Let me know when you need me,” I say and then turn and walk back to my desk. I keep my shaking hands in check. I sit down and literally count to ten in my head. My heart beats faster and faster and then slowly calms. And just when it’s finally beating normal, the buzzer on my phone goes off.

  “Erin, we are ready for you,” Sylvia says.

  “I’ll be right in,” I say and look up at the ceiling. “I can do this,” I mumble to myself. “How bad could it be?”

  In the back of my mind, I am almost afraid of the answer.

  Chapter Three

  Carter

  I slam the door shut behind me and walk straight to the winding staircase that takes me upstairs to my bedroom. When I make it up to the landing, I come face-to-face with the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows and a view of the blue ocean outside. The sun shines high in the sky, making it perfect. This view made me dish out twenty million dollars. That, and well, it’s right on the beach and gives me the privacy I deserve. I’ve been in show biz for the past twenty-five years, so basically most of my life, after being chosen at an open casting call my parents brought me to at the mall when I was eight.

  We lived in a trailer, and some months, we were lucky to have water. The minute they cast me on The Mickey Mouse Club, I was my parents’ golden ticket. Almost like in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. They loved it so much that when I turned eighteen, I was happy to say I had not one penny left. My father had spent it on five homes that he paid for in cash while my mother jetted around town with a chauffeur.

  So I started from the bottom when I legally became an adult, crossed them off my list forever, and then went on with my star-studded life. They tried to sue me for back royalty. Can you believe they claimed to have managed my career? Luckily, I had a shark lawyer who went toe to toe with them and even presented proof of all the money they embezzled from me. I’ve been on my own since I was eighteen years old, if not younger, but I have one person to think about, and that is me. I don’t have time to have any strings attached to anyone. Unless it’s for the night.

  I pull a black shirt over my head and walk to my bedroom on the right. The open curtain gives a view of the ocean again. I toss the shirt in the laundry, taking off my shoes at the door and then make my way to the bathroom to shower. I woke up thirty minutes ago and snuck out of my latest conquest’s house. I look in the mirror and see the nail marks down my chest. Why do these women feel it’s necessary to leave a mark as if I’m actually going to remember them in the morning? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ve dated women but just casually and sporadically. Besides, in my line of work, why eat the same food every night when you can feast at a buffet?

  I open the glass door to the huge walk-in shower. Even though it’s fitted with a bench, it’s never seen any action. I’ve never brought a woman home. Actually, that’s a lie. I brought one girl home seven years ago, and she stayed a fucking week. I literally had to send one of my friends to escort her from the house because she thought we were in love. Love. Like I’d be stupid enough to fall in love with anyone. Love was for fools, and I wasn’t a fool. I only had to depend on myself and no one else, and I loved myself. I loved my life.

  Grabbing my brown leather jacket and sliding my sunglasses on, I run down the stairs and straight to the garage, then get into my black Ferrari. I make my way over to Hillcrest where I’m meeting my manager to sign the biggest contract of my life. The engine purrs every time I rev it. I pull up to the valet and toss him my keys. Grabbing my phone, I check to make sure I’m not late, and I see I have one minute to spare. I press the button for the elevator and then make my way up to Ryan’s office. I got a message from Jeff, my manager, that he’s already in the conference room.

  I look up, and I swear the earth stops, or I think it does. My arms come up as I try not to run over the woman with long auburn hair walking out of the opposite elevator. If you put glasses on her, she’d look like one of those sex kittens. I don’t even know what I say to her, but I think I just asked her to wait for me. She turns and walks away from me, and then I give her my trademark smirk. A smirk that makes sure I don’t go to bed alone. I watch her walk away, and I was not wrong when I said it was a good view. Her tight ass in that tight as fuck skirt causes my cock to spring to half mast. Her long hair is swinging side to side. I’m going to bury my hands in her hair, wrap it around my fist, and slam my cock into her.

  “Jeff is waiting for you,” Sylvia says to me. I’ve met her twice before when I came for meetings here. I nod at her, and she turns to walk away, but the view is definitely not the same as the sight of heaven I just witnessed. We walk down the hallway to the conference room, and when she opens the door, Jeff looks up and sees me. He gets up, coming over to me, and he’s wearing a business suit, like always. When I turned eighteen and found out I had nothing left, I went to his office. I had seen him around on set when he visited other clie
nts. Sitting in his office that day, I told him everything. Every little detail. He sat in the chair beside me facing his desk. He got up and then slapped me on my shoulder and said, “Let’s get it all back and then some, yeah?” And from that day on, he was like a brother to me. I even spent holidays at his house with his wife and kids, no questions asked like I’ve always been there.

  “Hey, you are right on time,” he says to me. He isn’t giving me his regular smile. No, his look is bleak, and my stomach falls. Fuck, did they cancel the deal?

  “Right on time,” I say, looking at him. I’m trying to read his eyes, but I see nothing. When he turns away, I see Ryan sitting at the table in a suit without a tie. The top two buttons are open. He sits at the head of the table with two other suits next to him—I can’t remember their names—and then Sylvia sits beside them. Jeff takes a seat in front of them, and I pull out the chair next to Jeff.

  “So,” Jeff starts, looking at the contract in front of him, “there is an adjustment to the contract.” His thumbs tap the table, so I can tell he’s nervous about it.

  I put my glasses on the table, trying not to show that I’m irritated or better yet pissed. “Really? Exactly what kind of adjustment?” I ask, leaning back in the chair and putting a hand on the armrest.

  I look at Ryan, and he looks back at me. From what I heard, he took a chance and started this production company when he was twenty. The first couple of movies were literally handheld equipment that he filmed himself, and now he’s the richest person in Hollywood. He has his hand in everything that has to do with Hollywood. He is a key player, so bottom line, you want him on your side.

  “Let’s cut to the chase. Your last release didn’t kill it like we wanted it to.” I sit up now, and I’m about to say something, but he puts his hand up. “It did great. I’m not saying that. What I’m saying is it could have done better.” I’m about to say something, but Jeff puts his hand up so Ryan can finish speaking. “With that said, we think your reputation is what is stopping you from going from here,” he says with his hand halfway up, “to here.” He raises it higher.

  “Reputation?” I ask, confused. “I come to work each day on time, and I do my job. I don’t pull any stunts, nor do I sit in my trailer and pout until I get my way,” I say of another actor that is known to do that. “So I’m confused on why my reputation isn’t getting me here,” I say, putting my hand up to where Ryan just had it.

  “It isn’t your reputation on the set,” he says, leaning back in his chair more to one side. “It’s your reputation out there.” He points his thumb at the window. “It’s the partying every night. It’s the girls. That kind of lifestyle really turns people off, which translates into people not wanting to go see your movies.”

  “Wait a second.” I’m annoyed now. “I’ve never been drunk or on drugs,” I tell him, and I’m not. When I was nineteen, I blacked out more times than I could count, so I stopped drinking. Period. Cold turkey. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I mean, I do, but so what if I get laid every night or twice a day?

  He looks over at Sylvia, who opens her folder and takes out a picture from last night and then another one from the night before and before then and a couple from last week. “This is just in the past couple of weeks.”

  “So I like to date,” I tell them. “There isn’t a law against that.”

  “You’re right,” Ryan says, “but it pushes a huge chunk of your fan base away—specifically, the female audience—from the movie if they think you’re a douche.” I roll my eyes. “If you want a sampling, we actually did a survey on video, and we asked a hundred women what they thought of you and your movies.”

  “This isn’t Family Feud,” I snap back, and now Jeff talks.

  “Okay, Ryan, we get it.” He folds his hands on the table. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to Carter, but he’s going to do whatever is necessary to make sure that this movie kills it.”

  “I am glad you said that,” Ryan says, looking over at me, and I look at him and then at Jeff. “Who is going to tell him?”

  Jeff smirks and then looks at me. “For the next sixty days, you need to live the life of a monk, so you can’t have sex.”

  “What?” I shriek. “What in the fuck?”

  Ryan laughs. “And for the next thirty days, we are going to rebrand you.” I shake my head, hoping I heard wrong. Surely, I heard wrong.

  “I don’t understand,” I say, looking at Jeff and then finally snatching the contract from in front of him. Surely, they can’t stop me from having sex. Is there a law against stopping someone from having sex? That’s not actually a thing, is it?

  “Well, we are going to be working with you on how to polish your image like a shiny nickel,” Sylvia says. “And we have Erin, who is going to work with you on doing just that.”

  “Before we do that,” Ryan says, “you need to sign that contract.” I look over at Jeff who nods his head and then leans over to me.

  “This is the deal of a lifetime. We are talking multi-movie deals with royalties,” he whispers. “Don’t let your dick fuck it up.”

  I nod at him and grab a spare pen lying on the table to sign on the dotted line. I toss the pen on the table. “There, I’ve signed it.”

  Ryan looks at Sylvia and nods his head. She leans over, picks up the phone in the middle of the table, and says, “You can come in now.” She hangs up the phone, and then she looks at me. “She is the best that we have, and if anyone can rebrand you, it’s her. We were working on this all morning long, and she has some great ideas.” She stops talking when there is a knock on the door. When she walks in, I suddenly know that I’m most definitely going to be in breach of this contract.

  “Erin, I believe you’ve already met Carter.”

  She looks at me, and I was wrong before. She isn’t hot; she’s smoking. Not only is she smoking, but she’s hands down the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. And let me say I’ve met a lot of them. Her perfect and round eyes look like they are blue with a splash of green. Her perfectly plump lips have a coat of just clear gloss on them. But fuck that her body is so fucking smoking has my cock already hard. I look down and then look up with a smile. “Erin, what a pretty name,” I say smoothly and hear Jeff groan beside me.

  Chapter Four

  Erin

  My hands shake as I walk back to my desk. I knew he was good looking. Okay, I’m lying; he’s not just good looking, he is so far past that I can’t describe it. But I get it now with the smirk and the smoldering look. I can totally see why the ladies flock to him . . . and why he allows them to flock. That smirk speaks volumes.

  Placing the coffee cup on my desk, I sit down and look at the computer screen. Counting in my head slowly, I breathe in and breathe out. I lean back in my chair and stare up at the lights. This is a bad idea. I have a feeling this whole thing will be a failure before I start. When the phone buzzes, letting me know it’s time for me to be introduced, so to speak, I get up. Grabbing my own folder that I prepared, I walk down the hallway. Almost like you are walking to the principal’s office . . . or like the movie The Green Mile. I’m not sure which ending would be worse at this point. I swallow and take a deep breath, then I knock on the door and walk in.

  Sylvia is the first one I hear speaking. “Erin, I believe you’ve already met Carter.” I look over at him, and his smirk stretches into a full-blown smile on his ridiculously perfect face.

  “Erin, what a pretty name,” he says, and I hear the guy beside him groan. Carter reaches over, extending his hand, and I automatically reach out and shake his hand. His hand grips mine, and he slowly moves it, then stops and just holds my hand.

  I look over at the other people sitting in the meeting. Ryan just shakes his head when the guy next to him gets up and pulls our hands apart to introduce himself. “I’m Jeff. I’m Carter’s manager.”

  I smile at the guy whose beads of sweat forming on his brow and upper lip are becoming awkwardly apparent. “Nice to meet you,” I tell hi
m. Walking over to sit next to Sylvia, I try my best to control the pace of my beating heart. This is a big meeting with the biggest Hollywood player and all his people, and I’m sitting at the table feeling very out of my element. But I know it’s my go big or go home moment.

  “We were discussing with Carter the ways to change his reputation,” Sylvia starts and then looks at me, then at Ryan. “Erin will be taking the lead on this, and she will be reporting back to us.”

  “Basically,” Ryan says, “if she says do this or do that, then there is a reason, and I need you to respect it.”

  “I have no problem doing whatever Erin suggests I do for her,” Carter says, leaning back in the chair.

  Jesus, that fucking smirk is on megawatt charge right now, and it’s becoming harder and harder to avert my eyes from his mouth.

  “So what are you suggesting exactly?” Jeff asks, and Sylvia looks over at me and just nods her head. It’s enough of a diversion that I’m able to focus so I get ready to pitch my ideas.

  “Well, for one, we need to work on his Instagram,” I start and take out some of the pictures that I pulled from his account. “He has twenty million followers, and the only pictures he is posting are of him partying with different women, multiple times a day, coming and going out of different hotels and bars . . . so a lot of female adoration from a personal standpoint, but not so much from the followers on your social media accounts.”

  “Twenty million is huge,” Jeff says, and I nod.

  “It is, but it has gone down a million over the past six months.” I take out proof of this, handing it to them.

  “There has to be a reason,” Jeff says. “Some of the accounts must have been fake or closed.”

  “One million accounts are gone. That’s roughly fifty-five-hundred followers per day. He’s bleeding followers, so it could be that people aren’t interested in seeing who he is sleeping with today,” I tell him. “We’ll use Tyler Beckett as a recent example. He grew to forty million followers after he started posting about his wife and kid. Not so much his kid but his home life. He became more personable, someone the masses can connect with, can celebrate their success with, can support. It’s a unique algorithm that works with the female population. It gives the average woman an idea that ‘hey, the love of his life is just like me and maybe someone like him could fall in love with me’ when they see that he’s posting pictures of a normal Sunday morning making pancakes with his wife and child. It’s all about image and the impression, and the debauchery and a partying lifestyle that you have been posting about lately are not something your followers can relate to.”