Then Kas and I needed to sit and have a talk.
A real deep talk like the ones he’d tried to coax me into when he’d first moved into my apartment.
I was going to tell him about Christopher. Tell him how he’d used me to get close to my dad, willing to sleep his way to the top. Even if that meant sleeping with the director’s daughter.
That man had stomped all over me on his climb to the stars. He’d left me scarred and scared. But I wasn’t broken. Not even close. And I was going to prove that to Kas.
I just had to make it through this dinner first. Admittedly, my daddy wasn’t going to be all that enthused when he found out an aspiring actor/insanely sexy underwear model was my new roommate/boyfriend.
Yeah.
That wasn’t going to go over all that well.
Sucking in a breath, I quickly dressed, pulling on the most modest blouse I owned.
Brownie points.
Yep, I was totally going to have to sweet talk my way through this one.
I dried my hair and swiped some clear gloss over my lips before smacking them in the mirror.
Ready.
I grabbed my purse and headed for the door.
I fumbled in my tracks when it swung open two seconds before I got to it.
“Hey, Princess,” Kas said, a cocky smirk climbed onto his mouth when he saw me standing there. I was basically panting as I stared at him and wondered how the hell I was going to get out of this one.
“Couldn’t even wait for me to get through the door before you were running to me,” he muttered so roughly that I was sure the barely there scruff on his jaw was raking my skin.
Right inside the door, he ripped his tee over his head.
Holy Mother Mary.
The man had it all wrong, but oh so right.
My mouth went dry.
Kassius was a sculpture. Pure muscle that shouldn’t have been real. Carved and chiseled and gleaming like a million-dollar piece of fine art.
No wonder Calvin Klein was paying him so much money.
Everyone wanted a little piece of that.
But this boy was mine.
I almost said screw it and came up with another pathetic excuse to tell my parents why I wouldn’t be able to make it for dinner. But I hadn’t seen either of them since I missed the premiere, and I was pretty sure they would be banging down my door to make sure I was okay if I didn’t show tonight.
Kas frowned. “What’s going on?”
“Uh . . . um . . .”
My eyes darted to the door behind him, and I wondered whether I could make a clean getaway if I ran fast enough.
That wouldn’t be suspicious at all now, would it?
“Um . . . you remember my friend I told you about? Kaylee? She texted and wanted to meet up for a drink. We have a lot to catch up on. A lot,” I overly enthused.
“The one who just started dating Paxton Myles?”
I gulped. “Yep, that’s the one. I was going to text you to let you know I’d be gone for a few hours and that I’d meet you back here later.”
His eyes narrowed just a bit. “Then why are you sweating?”
Crap, was I?
My fingertips fluttered across my brow, swiping away the moisture. “Sweating? Who me? I’m not sweating.”
God, I was rambling like a moron.
He took a step forward, his head angling to the side, his grin growing. “I think you’re lying to me.”
He didn’t seem angry.
Just a little . . . confused. Maybe even amused.
Apparently, I was that bad of a liar. Go me.
I fidgeted. “Okay, fine. I’m going to dinner at my parents’ house.”
“Scandalous,” he tossed out.
Right.
Why did I feel like I had to keep it from him again?
Oh, yeah, I hadn’t let him in on the fact my father was Roger Ward. The Roger Ward.
“They’re a little . . . overbearing.”
His brow lifted in speculation. “Overbearing? Don’t they live in town? They haven’t been by once since I’ve been here.”
“Oh, they were out of the country for a bit.”
There I was, digging myself deeper and deeper. I kind of wanted to climb into it and hide.
“I want to meet them.”
“NO!” I shouted way too fast, lurching forward.
He jerked back. “No?”
My tongue darted out to wet my lips. “No . . . it’s a bad time and . . . and . . . and my mother is a horrible cook.”
God. I really was a bumbling idiot.
Before I could make it worse, I ducked around him and made a beeline for the door. “I’ll be back later.”
I slammed the door shut behind me, resting my back against it as I tried to catch my breath.
Guilt squeezed my ribs.
I hated lying to him.
Hated it, when he had been nothing but honest with me. I just didn’t know what else to do. Before I turned back around and confessed it all, I strode to the elevator and rode it to the garage floor. My sandals clacked on the concrete as I rushed for my car, which was parked in the very last spot by the far wall.
I hopped in the driver seat and punched the ignition button, turning my head to the left, only to get caught up on the television attached to the wall near the guard shack.
Distracted.
I guessed some things didn’t change.
But how could I not get tripped up on the commercial that came to life on the screen?
The man, the sexiest thing I’d ever seen, wearing nothing but a pair of those tight black underwear, his arms folded over his head, exposing those perfect abs.
Attraction skated through me at seeing the exact same ad that had been on that billboard all those weeks ago.
My boyfriend was a freaking Calvin Klein model. Good God, I really was in deep.
Another ad came on, jarring me back into reality. I glanced at the dash.
Crap.
I was going to be late.
Again.
I threw my car into reverse and started to gun the accelerator. Just as quickly, my foot was jamming down the brakes because a hand slammed down on the rear of my car.
Kas was standing there, smack dab behind my car, with both of his hands flat on the trunk. I threw the car back into park and jumped out. “Are you crazy?”
“Are you trying to run me over again?”
“You’re the one who jumped behind my car. Seriously, what is wrong with you? Do you have a death wish?”
“Actually, I was kind of hoping not to get my heart broken.”
That had me rearing back, eyes narrowing as I stared at him. “What do you mean?”
He roughed a hand over his short crop of dark hair. “Come on, Elle. I might be a model, but that doesn’t make me stupid. I know you’re lying to me.”
A strained sigh left me, and that guilt swelled so high I was sure I was going to drown on it. I swallowed around the huge lump in my throat, staring at the man I knew I had to trust.
I’d be an idiot if I did something that would make him not trust me. “You’re right, I was lying to you.”
Heartbreak streaked across his face. That should have been enough proof right there. “You’re not going to your parents?” he said, as if he were trying to accept the betrayal.
My head shook. “No, I am. I just didn’t want to tell you I didn’t want you to come with me.”
Rejection flashed across his face, and for a second, his eyes slammed closed. “You don’t want your parents to meet me.”
I blew out a breath. “No, it’s the other way around. I didn’t want you to meet them.”
He frowned. “Are they not cool?”
No. My parents were very, very cool.
I angled my head, making the decision. “Get in the car.”
Eighteen
Kassius
Elle taps her thumbs against the steering wheel nervously and worries on her bottom lip as she weaves in and
out of West Hollywood traffic, and her anxiousness tugs at my heart. She doesn’t want me to meet her parents, what in the actual hell? What could be so bad about her parents? Now that I think about it, she doesn’t talk much about her family. I know she’s an only child, but that’s all I know about her family.
I guess I’m about to find out a whole lot more.
“Elle.” I sigh, reaching out and pulling her right hand into my left. “Calm down, please.”
She glances at me quickly before turning her eyes back to the road and making a sudden and sharp right hand turn off Sunset Boulevard and then zigzagging through the streets of Beverly Hills.
She resumes her thumb tapping and lip biting, and I squeeze her hand tighter in a gesture of reassurance. Reassurance that tonight is going to be just fine. As we move deeper into the neighborhood, the houses become much larger, and her thumb tapping becomes quicker.
“Holy shit!” I didn’t mean to blurt out as Elle pulls up to the enormous double gates of a Beverly Hills mansion. “This is your parents’ house?” I ask, leaning forward to get a better look out of the windshield and at the gargantuan house sitting before us.
She lets out a long sigh. “It is.”
“You grew up in this house?”
She nods and clears her throat. “We moved into it when I was thirteen. Before that, we lived in Malibu.” Her voice is sheepish, as if she’s embarrassed of her parents’ wealth.
Now I’m the one that’s nervous. I’ve never been inside a house like this.
Hell, I’ve never been within a mile of a house like this. I grew up in a modest three-bedroom rambler and shared a single bathroom with five people until I moved out.
The gates open slowly, and Elle inches the car forward up the long, circular drive. She parks in front of the large double doors and leans back in her seat, resting her head against the headrest.
I reach over and cup her cheek in my palm. “It’s going to be fine, Elle. I promise. If your parents are anything like you, I’m sure I’ll love them.” The reassurance earns me a soft smile along with a short nod.
“Let’s do this,” she says, shaking off her reservations. I meet her at the front of the car and pull her hand into mine as we ascend the large stone stairs that leads to the massive double doors centering the mansion. Large ceramic pots of lush green plants stand at either side of the stairs and only serve to emphasize the size of the staircase.
Just as we approach the top step, one of the doors flings open. “El—” She stops herself mid-word when she sees me with Elle. I’ve seen her before, but I can’t place where. Her eyes meet mine before falling to our interwoven hands, and she raises her hand to her chest in shock. Her fingers fiddle with the charm that hangs from her necklace as she takes in Elle and me.
“Hi mom,” Elle musters, dropping her eyes to her feet.
“Pardon my surprise,” she says, a giant smile crawling across her face. “Elle didn’t tell me she was bringing a guest.”
I reach out to shake to her mother's hand.
“Kas Cowen, and let me apologize. It was a very last-minute decision for me to come with Elle. We should have been more courteous and let you know in advance.”
Her thin, bony hand grips mine as the look of shock and surprise finally falls from her face.
“Lindsay Ward,” she says before leaning forward and placing a quick kiss on Elle’s cheek. “We have more than enough room at the table.”
Elle looks at her mom, her eyes widening as if to silently tell her not to pry any further. Mrs. Ward takes a step back, retreating into the house as Elle and I follow.
The large foyer is formal yet surprisingly modern. A large, crystal chandelier hangs over us showing off the stately space.
“It’s just been so long since, Elle has brought—”
“Enough, Mom,” Elle snaps and shoots her mother a death glare. The room suddenly tense, Mrs. Ward rubs her hands together nervously and plasters on a nervous smile.
“Well then, please join your father in the parlor for some pre-dinner drinks and appetizers.” Mrs. Ward extends her arm toward the hallway that leads to a large room at the end of the hall and smiles politely at me as Elle drags me away and down the hall.
Elle releases my hand and exhales loudly. “Sorry about that. She’s just so . . .” She hesitates, and I fill in her blank.
“Nice. She’s nice, Elle. And polite, and she was excited that you brought me.” I nudge her with my shoulder, and she lets out a low grumble.
“You call it nice, I call it nosy. Just wait until dinner. She’s going to ask you a million questions that I’m not ready for her to ask you.”
“Elle.” I stop dead in my tracks, and since I still have ahold of her hand, she’s forced to stop as well. She turns to face me, and I place my hands on her shoulders. “She loves you, Princess, and I. . .” I pause, the word love dangling from the tip of my tongue, “We have all the time in the world for me to get to know your family. Just relax. Please. We'll eat and leave. We'll keep tonight totally casual. We'll ease into this.”
I brush my thumb over her bottom lip, and she inhales sharply and closes her eyes.
“There’s just a lot you don’t know—”
“And that’s fine. We’ll take all of this slow, okay?” I interrupt her.
She opens her eyes and pulls her lips between her teeth before clearing her throat. “Okay.” Her voice is quiet, timid, not the Elle I've come to know. But I do know in my gut that this is nothing that I thought it was going to be. I wasn’t sure if I was going to be meeting Joan Crawford’s character from Mommy Dearest but upon meeting Lindsay Ward, she was the epitome of kind and welcoming. I didn’t know what I expected, but Elle had me worried for nothing.
“Your mother is amazing,” I tell her. “You remind me a lot of her.” She rolls her eyes and smiles. “So, unless your dad is as ridiculous as Al Bundy, I think we’re going to get along just fine.”
“I hope so,” she says as we walk into the parlor, and I take in all the people sipping their drinks and conversing.
“Ellie!” A deep voice rumbles.
“Hi, Daddy,” Elle responds dropping my hand and falling into the arms of a large man.
It’s then I realize that the man Elle calls “Daddy” is none other than Roger Ward.
The. Roger. Ward.
Holy shit.
* * *
“So, how did you two meet?” Mrs. Ward asks just as I shove a piece of chicken into my mouth, leaving Elle to answer the question. She looks up from her plate and around the large table to find that most of the other guests are lost in their own conversations.
“Umm.” She sets her fork down and takes a quick sip of her white wine. “I ran into him over in West Hollywood.”
“Literally,” I mumble under my breath, and Elle kicks me under the table. Mrs. Ward looks confused at the commotion but doesn’t press Elle for further explanation.
“You look so familiar, Kas. Have we met before?” Mr. Ward asks from the other side of Mrs. Ward. I’ve seen Roger Ward at least a half-dozen times in the last year, the last of which was at the Golden Globes a few days ago, but we’ve never formally met.
Elle looks at me nervously, and I shake my head from side-to-side. She doesn't know that I know who her father is.
“We haven’t,” I tell him honestly, and reach for my own glass of wine to swallow down my discomfort.
“You’ve got one of those faces”—he waves his hand through the air—“and I meet so damn many people, I can’t keep them all straight.”
“How is work, honey?” Mrs. Ward asks Elle turning the attention back to her.
Elle visibly relaxes and sits back in her chair. “It’s good. We landed a new boutique hotel chain and an upscale nationwide grocer. We’re going to be insanely busy, but business is going really, really well.” Her face lights up when she talks about her career, and I’m incredibly proud of her.
I’m also impressed that Roger Ward’s daughter, my Elle, h
as her own career, her own life, outside of his.
Most Hollywood children live off trust funds and make headlines for their bad behavior, but not Elle. This doesn’t surprise me. Nothing about Elle surprises me.
She’s every anomaly to typical Hollywood, maybe that’s why she’s kept her family, particularly her father, a secret from me.
Nineteen
Elle
I couldn’t stop glancing at Kas where he was sitting at my family’s dining table. Calm and composed in all that outrageous gorgeousness that twisted my belly into a thousand knots at seeing him there. At the fact I’d brought him there.
He chatted with my father as if they were complete strangers but could be the best of friends. That was Kas’s way. He could charm the pants off about anyone.
God knew that he’d charmed them right off me.
The part that got me the most was he hadn’t told my father or mother who he was—that he’d just landed a huge modeling contract and his aspirations went so much higher than that. It was then that I knew without a doubt that he wasn’t there to use me to climb to those heights.
I knew that because there was just no way that he didn’t recognize my father.
This was Hollywood, for God’s sake.
Any aspiring actor would recognize him in a heartbeat.
It was the reason I’d been stalling for so long. But seeing him sitting there, so cautiously causal, as if he got that there had been a reason that I’d kept him in the dark about who my parents were?
It meant the world to me.
More than he could ever know.
I could feel the weight of it scraping from my consciousness, pulling free, the tethers that had kept all those walls around my heart stretching so tight were seconds from snapping and floating away.
I’d come to know Kas Cowen, and he was so different from what I’d ever expected. Him sitting there, laughing at something my mother said, his concern for me as he slid his attention my way with a soft, understanding smile.
One Wild Ride: A Hollywood Chronicles Novel Page 9
