Clandestine

by Ava Harrison

  I scrunch my nose in confusion at his words.

  “Today we’re not here to celebrate the next generation of Lancaster Hotels, but the next generation of Lancasters.”

  My head jerks to him and he smirks. “Well . . . hopefully.” He pulls a small snow globe from his pocket. It doesn’t look like any snow globe I’ve ever seen. It’s completely custom, and the words etched on the side say home. Inside is a beautiful house sitting on a mountain with the ocean as the backdrop.

  What the heck is going on?

  When I turn back to Spencer, he’s down on one knee. It takes me a second, but I finally know what’s going on. I gasp in shock.

  “Olivia Miller, I’ve loved you since the day I saw you. I might not have known it then, but I absolutely know it now. The best decision I’ve ever made was asking you to escort me to Vence. That day changed my life.”

  I begin to cry. His words are so beautiful and I see the sincerity in his eyes. He loves me as much as I love him.

  “I’ve brought our friends and family here today to ask you to be my wife. Build a home right here, somewhere we can wake up every morning together and see exactly what you envisioned. Will you marry me and help make this our home?”

  I fall to my knees in the sand, unable to catch my breath. Everything I’ve ever wanted in life is being thrown at my feet and the emotions are overwhelming. This man has been my rock the past year. We may have had some miscommunication issues, and we may have a long road ahead of us, but ultimately he’s what I want forever and he’s giving it to me. There’s only one thing I can possibly say in this moment.

  “Yes.”

  He envelops me in his arms and we fall to the sand as everyone around us cheers happily.

  “I love you, Olivia. More than life itself.”

  “I love you, Spencer. Always.”

  Our life is chaos, constantly being hounded by the press, but in the end, nothing they say can rock us. We’ve built something strong and solid.

  A foundation for the future.

  The End

  Ready for some more heat? Grant Lancaster will be melting your Kindle soon!

  Ready for another scandalous story? Check out Heartthrob!

  Exposé: Heartthrob

  By Willow Winters

  Synopsis

  Nathan Hart is charismatic with a beautiful smile that makes women weak in the knees. A former bad boy with a mysterious past. He was made to be in Hollywood, on the cover of magazines, and the star of movies.

  But there’s more to him that he hasn’t told a soul.

  Something that draws me to him unlike anyone has before.

  Something that could ruin us both.

  He whispers to play along; he promises it will all be alright.

  I can’t tell him no, even if I wanted to.

  The moment he locked his eyes on me, I was his. And that first glance was ten years ago in high school. Followed by a tragic accident that tore us apart. I’d give anything to go back, but I’m helpless and there’s nothing I can do to change the past. That night has never left me.

  A decade later, fate saw fit to shove me back into his life.

  I can’t deny the heat between us or the way my body remembers his. And neither can he. Seeing him brings it all back.

  I only pray the secret is never exposed and the guilt and the shame fade faster than the memories of our past.

  Chapter 1

  Harlow

  “Holy shit,” I say, the words slipping out under my breath. I barely hear them myself. My palms are sweaty as I swallow thickly and then wipe them on my plum pencil skirt. A gust of wind blowing along East 55th Street causes my loose cream blouse to billow and sends a chill down my skin.

  I barely feel it though, as I stand here feeling like a fraud.

  I’ve always been a normal girl with a normal life. Everything happened so quickly and I just kept nodding my head in disbelief. And now I’m here. Standing outside of the St. Gerard hotel. It’s a sleek and modern building of black glass and shiny steel. It’s full of the hustle and bustle that echoes the busy streets of New York but with an edge and sophistication that doesn’t allow for outsiders. It’s high end and only meant for the who’s who of New York City.

  And I’m expected to walk through those doors. Just a girl from the suburbs who always dreamed of getting an inch closer to the city.

  My heart races thinking about holding my head up high and squaring my shoulders, pretending like I belong here. There’s only so much a person can fake and right now, I can’t even pretend to have confidence. Fake it till you make it. I say the motto over and over. It’s worked for me so far.

  “I know, right?” Lydia says with a different air. Not quite disbelief, more like the sound of accomplishment. The voice someone uses when they know they’ve made it and they’re damn proud.

  Sometimes, I wonder at what point she went from being my first client at the agency to a friend. Since day one, only months ago, the air between us has been easy and she’s only shown me a sweet side to her that has made it easy to confide in her. Today, of all days, I need someone to lean on and to ground me. I couldn’t have lucked out more.

  “Like, hole-lee shit,” I say each syllable separately, thankful that she’s hell-bent on keeping me from making an utter fool of myself.

  This is my first real time on set, even though I’ve been one of the top agent’s assistant for months. My first real shoot and I’m going to be one of the extras. Well, maybe not today, but sometime in the next few weeks. Not that I wanted this. I never asked for it and a happy accident led me here. It’s Lydia’s fault. The bitch set me up. A smile slips onto my face at the thought.

  Lydia was made to be a star. High cheek bones and straight black hair that doesn’t even need a keratin blow out. She’s going to kill it in there and earn her place in this industry. She’s supposed to be here.

  “We got this,” she says as she maneuvers the Louis Vuitton back onto her shoulder and smacks her lips together, the stain doesn’t budge on her plump lips.

  “I don’t know if I can do this,” I say softly, my eyes traveling along the etched glass sign above the doorway. Then they follow the glass elevator as it moves seamlessly up the one hundred and fifty story building until my eyes can’t focus on it anymore. The glare of the sun forces me to slip my sun glasses back into place. I feel sick to my stomach although I’m not entirely sure why.

  Lydia just smiles, her bright red lips thinning as her pearly-whites flash back at me. “You know those aren’t your lines, right?” she asks and then glides the tip of her tongue across her teeth and steps forward, ignoring the dozens of people hurrying to move around us as if we don’t even exist. She’s not intimidated by the building, by the people, or by the expectations we’re about to walk into.

  Ever since high school, almost ten years now, I’ve thought about what it would be like to be an actress. I didn’t dare to really dream of it though. I thought I could do screenings or learn to be an agent. Something in the industry, but I never hoped to actually participate. My first summer out of college as an intern has proven that this industry moves fast and that I need to be prepared for anything.

  “Four weeks of this,” Lydia says as a woman in a chic pink Chanel tweed dress and a thin black patent-leather belt around her waist walks past us. It’s hard not to notice her. Her hot pink pumps click loudly on the sidewalk, even with the traffic and other people moving about she stands out like a force that refuses to blend in. She walks right ahead of us, a large Dooney and Bourke purse in the crook of her arm and the doors open without hesitation, allowing her entry.

  My heart flips once, then twice, as my legs turn to Jello and she disappears beyond the black glass. Lydia squeals something incoherently, gripping my arm and making me nearly topple over. “That was Julie Rays! Julie!” she squeals.

  I stare back at her bewildered. I should know that name. I should know everyone on set. It was my job to know who is who in this industry. But for
the life of me, my mind is blank. I force a smile and nod my head as Lydia gathers her composure. Her smile is infectious, her confidence, her everything.

  Julie Rays I say her name in my head over and over. “Oh, shit. Julie Rays!” It finally clicks and my eyes widen and I search beyond the glass for her figure, but she’s gone. Julie’s up and coming. The star of not one, but two new top-rated series on television. I should have fucking recognized her in a heartbeat. She’s the who’s who of actresses right now and she just walked past me only a few feet away.

  “Oh, my God, do you think she’s on the same set?” I ask Lydia who lets a sly smile slip onto her face. We don’t know a damn thing about the stars of the show. NDAs are standard before shooting begins to control publicity.

  “Don’t leave me,” I tell Lydia as she starts to move toward the building. The request comes out in a single breath and more like a desperate question than anything else.

  “There’s no way I’m letting you go anywhere without me,” she says with a wink and pulls me towards the doors. Lydia doesn’t even break her stride as the doorman pulls the all glass door wide open and tips his head to greet her.

  My feet move in unison with Lydia’s strides as I take in the expansive lobby. The high ceilings make the click of heels and the soft sounds of silverware echo from the right side of the large room. It’s an open restaurant and I only take a quick glance. There are high-end shops, Christian Dior and Michael Kors, on my left and an enormous fountain in the very center. Just beyond, there is a large mahogany desk that spans the length of the open lobby. The reception. Right where we’re headed.

  One of the four women behind the desk looks up at us with a smile, her platinum blonde hair pulled back tightly into a high bun. Everyone in here reeks of wealth and sophistication.

  “You’re fine,” Lydia whispers to me and her voice makes me turn to her. “If you could stop gripping me like you’re about to float away, I’d appreciate it,” she says with a sly smile.

  I instantly let go of her arm.

  It’s just that . . . I’m intimidated. There’s no other way to put it. I’m terrified I’m going to fail. That I’ll ruin a once in a life time opportunity.

  “You’re seriously going to do fine,” Lydia says as if reading my mind as we come to a stop in front of the desk.

  Before I can even utter a response, she’s already moved on and is giving our names to the receptionist, Alexis, or so her name says on the shiny silver tag above her shirt pocket.

  “And how can I help you, Miss Parker?”

  “We’re here for filming with Mr. Stevens,” Lydia says and adds, “The fifteenth floor I believe.” Her soft smile and elegance speak of confidence and certainty and sure enough, the receptionist nods and reveals key cards, swiping them in something I can’t see next to her computer.

  I swallow the lump in my throat and look around the large hobby, watching as the men and women, each dressed in varying degrees of wealth, move across the marble tiled lobby. The ceiling is domed and so high I have to crane my neck to see the etched designs along the wallpapered ceiling.

  I’m just a girl from outside the city. One of the ones who stares out of her window at night and memorizes each building that’s lit up off in the distance. No one special and destined to stay in the same town I grew up. My mother never fails to remind me where I came from and that a college degree wasn’t necessary. Going to school was just a chance to get closer to the bright lights of the city. Every year, inching closer and closer but knowing within four short years I’d be right back in the Hills and working for the family business.

  One day, I’m just a marketing student. The next, I’m taking an internship under Nancy Welsh, a well-known agent.

  I shouldn’t have applied; all it did was piss my mother off and pull me closer to a life I know I’m not supposed to lead.

  Within two weeks, I’m practicing line readings with an up and coming actress, Lydia Parker, sweet and seemingly unassuming. But Lydia is cunning and she knows the way of this industry. It wasn’t an accident that we were practicing lines in the coffee shop that the director frequented. What Lydia wants, Lydia gets.

  I guess him catching sight of me makes me a casualty of sorts. I’m just an extra, but still, it’s more than I ever thought I’d be.

  When I graduated and took this job, I never imagined I’d go from getting the morning coffee to doing errands to signing NDAs and being cast for an HBO original series.

  I almost turn my head, tearing my eyes away from the abstract stone sculptures on either side of the elevator when I hear Lydia thank the receptionist. I almost carry on, allowing myself to move through the motions of a dream I never dared to imagine.

  But my eyes catch sight of a man as he enters an elevator. His thin, brown, worn leather jacket is pulled tightly across his broad shoulders as he walks.

  My heart stops beating. The clatter and faint sounds turn to white noise. It can’t be him. I tell myself over and over. My lips part and I nearly take a step forward, mostly out of disbelief. My hand instantly reaches behind me for Lydia, but I’m not aware whether it’s even her. I just need something to grab onto in order to stay grounded.

  I recognize the way he moves. The way his hand slips into the back pocket of his dark blue jeans and pulls out the necessary card. I know it’s him before he even turns around. The sharp jawline is new, accompanying an older version of the boy I used to know. But his eyes I would know anywhere. The darkness that swirls, the chill in his gaze, yet the heat it brings me. They hold me captive, make me weak, make me crave to go back to the way things were before I lost him.

  Nathan Hart.

  There’s a secret, a dark past between us. Something I’ve tried to ignore and pretend never happened. It’s what tore us apart and even though I’ve accepted what happened and my part in it, I don’t think I’ll ever be okay.

  Time is a bitch. It slows and seems to stay still, refusing to move or to let me respond with anything but disbelief. I wish I hadn’t been looking the moment the doors start to close, taking him away from me. But I am and as they slowly close, his eyes drift to mine. I’m caught in the stare. Unmoving and trapped by fate as his eyes widen slightly with recognition.

  Then time continues, sure that I’ve seen him and he’s seem me, certain that it’s destroyed me in this moment. And I’m released, turning from the doors as quickly as I can.

  He wasn’t supposed to be here.

  But I know I saw him and he saw me.

  And that changes everything.

  Chapter 2

  Nathan

  I don’t think my blood can get any colder. My jaw and every other muscle in my body are tense. This is exactly why I didn’t want to leave LA. The ghosts follow me everywhere.

  The reminders of what I left behind.

  But the vision of her was so real.

  Her pale lips and the curve of her neck and shoulders. I can practically feel her soft skin against the tips of my fingers. I close my eyes as the elevator dings and everyone in the spacious elevator shifts forward, ready to move before the doors have even begun to open.

  My body refuses to be anything but tightly wound, not wanting to believe it was her, but unable to deny it.

  I’d know her anywhere, even if it has been nearly a decade. The way her doe eyes stared straight into me, unlike anyone else can. Cutting through me and holding me still. It has to be her.

  My Hally.

  Older and looking back at me with something akin to fear. And I know why. I may have loved her, but she kept pushing and pushing. My hands clench into white knuckled fists. The people move and I keep my pace even and my strides casual as I exit the elevator. I nearly look around the room, lost and confused as to why I’m here and forgetting who I am. Why I’m headed pasts rows and rows of stage equipment and lighting.

  I barely notice the glances and knowing smiles as I make my way back. Refusing to look flustered or as though I’m off balance in the least. I just need to get to
my dressing room. Somewhere I’ll have a room where I can lock all these fuckers out and get a grip.

  She wasn’t supposed to be here. Out of everywhere in New York, what the fuck is she doing here?

  “Mr. Hart,” Stevens says from the back corner of the stage to my right. The backdrop goes all the way up the twelve-foot-high ceilings although the paint itself stops before the plywood reaches the top of the wall. It’s fitted with everything to look as though it’s a living room. I’d laugh at the ridiculousness of creating a living room on a set when one could have been used without the cost of this set if I hadn’t been here before. I know how all this shit works now. Nothing phases me with sets and production. It’s all the same when I get here and have to do my job.

  Well, not here. Not in television shows.

  LA is where I’ve been since I left Brooklyn. Since the day an agent met me outside of prison and told me he’d change my life forever. He was right and I never looked back.

  Movies are out and TV shows are in, or so my agent says. And like the good client I am, I took his advice and came out here even though it was so close to her. I should have known better than to come anywhere close to where I grew up. I’ve been on edge ever since I got on that plane to come back here. I thought I’d be hours away. Hours from Hally and everyone else I left behind. As if there was ever enough space to make me forget.