Sweet Ruin
University of Branton
Nazarea Andrews
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author makes no claims to, but instead acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of any wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction including brands or products.
Copyright © 2014 by Nazarea Andrews.
Sweet Ruin by Nazarea Andrews
All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America by A&A Literary.
Summary: Megan Beauchamp has been running from expectations--and Branton--but when Asher and Luca convince her to go on a road trip back home, all three have to reevaluate what they want--and what they're willing to sacrifice for each other.
978-0-9894799-4-3
1. New Adult. 2. Romance. 3. Hollywood.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
For information, address 14207 Ridge Court, Upatoi GA 31829.
www.nazareaandrews.com
Edited by Rachel Bateman
Cover design by Melissa Stevens of The Illustrated Author
Cover art copyright©: Nazarea Andrews
Ebook Formatting by Ink in Motion
Paperback Formatting by Ink in Motion
It’s good to be on top…
Asher Knox has it all. Girls, wealth, a career most would kill for. He’s just landed the biggest job of his career. And he’s miserable.
She’s fighting her way from the bottom…
Megan Beauchamp has no illusions about why she was chosen to be Asher’s PA. She’s pretty, and down to earth, and everything the Hollywood star always falls for. Too bad Megan is just paying her dues and has no interest in anything but advancing at her PR firm.
He’ll throw it all away…
Luca James knows what he wants. And he’s waited a long time for the window to open—when it does, he’ll walk away from the career he’s built for a chance at something real.
When Megan’s boss threatens to fire her, Luca and Asher convince her to leave town with them. Between bad hotels and pit stop confessionals, the three are drawn closer together. And the lines blur even more in Branton, where Megan is forced to look at everything she left behind.
But they want more, and Megan will be forced to choose between the men she loves and the life she thought she wanted. And in a town like Branton, the secrets she keeps won’t be hidden for long.
Books by Nazarea Andrews
Edge of the Falls
University of Branton
This Love
Beautiful Broken
Sweet Ruin
Fractured Perfection (Oct 2014)
The World Without End
The World Without a Future
The Endless Horde (Dec 2014)
Girl Lost (May 2014)
With Aj Elmore:
Prince of Blood and Steel
Sweet Ruin
University of Branton
Nazarea Andrews
Chapter One
Megan
It's New Year's Eve. I'm surrounded by people, at the biggest party in LA. Tomorrow, it's all anyone will talk about, and I will be able to say I was there.
Of course, I'm working.
I slide through the crowd of people, past pretty girls hanging on this year's hottest actors and biggest singers. Well. Not the hottest actor. Everyone is wondering where Asher Knox is—whispers that will become barely controlled shouts if the broody star doesn't get his shit together soon.
My lips compress, and I fake a smile as I make my way through the massive crowd.
There it is. The door to the stairwell. I angle toward it, exchanging greetings with a few lower-tier actors and an independent director as I make my way to the exit. As soon as the door slams shut behind me, I breathe a sigh of relief. I love crowds and parties, but sometimes I just need a dark, quiet stairwell.
A door bangs shut above me, and I hear a disgruntled girl muttering, "Bastard."
I smile—found him.
I hurry up the stairs, the sequins on my green dress throwing the light. An actress in a popular TV drama meets me coming down, her lips twisted. Even angry and frowning, she's gorgeous. "Save yourself a headache, darling. He's in no mood for company."
I grin. "I'm not company."
Her eyebrows go up, but she does nothing else to dissuade me, and I hurry up the last flight of stairs.
I take a deep breath, smoothing down my cocktail dress and tucking my hair behind my ears. Then I open the door and step out onto the roof.
He doesn't flinch at my intrusion, and I have a few heartbeats to take him in. The wide shoulders and narrow waist flowing into long legs, the thin fingers that wrap around the bannister. Thick, shaggy black hair that is in desperate need of a haircut. The suit that cost more money than I like to think about, his coat now discarded on a dirty folding chair.
Even here, despondent and hiding from the public, Asher Knox is the most attractive man I've ever met.
"Come look," he says, and I shiver.
Asher twists at the waist, million dollar smile lit by the city lights and gilded silver by the moon. "Come on, Megs. Just for a minute—look, and then you can lecture and I'll go down to be a good boy."
His accent is thicker. I frown—he usually hides that, as much as he can. But there's something pleading in his crystal blue gaze, and it's the closest I'm going to get to a win tonight, so I take a step forward. "Promise?"
He grins, and I relax, walking the rest of the way across the roof. He turns back to the view. I take a place at his side, with a few inches between us. His eyes flick down to the space then up to me. He smirks. I give him my best scolding look, and he laughs soundlessly as he turns to face the city.
He's right. It's gorgeous, the sparkling lights of the city a sea of light backdropped by the moon. I can almost understand why he is drawn to it.
"You know, I never went to parties, back home. We did a quiet night in for New Year's. Tournaments on the Xbox and such."
"Asher," I say, trying hard to keep the exasperation out of my voice. "This is what you worked for. Enjoy it. Or at least pretend."
He sighs, tipping his head back, staring at the night sky. Desolation plays across his features—broody is what the papers call him, dark. Difficult is what his directors and co-stars are saying.
And brilliant. Effortless.
They don't know the half of it.
I take a deep breath and reach for his arm.
Asher
I stare at the tiny fingers wrapped around my wrist and, absurdly, wish I'd discarded my shirt along with my jacket.
Megan hasn't touched me in three weeks. Three weeks, four days. It was closer to a month, before that. She is very careful with these little touches, dishing them out like pieces of gold. I've learned I can never tell when one is coming. They always hit at the most unexpected time.
Sometimes, I think half the stunts I pull are just to see if I can goad her into touching me. Like this—retreating. I like the solitude, of course. Much more than the craziness that is downstairs. But if I’m very honest—which I’m not, not often—I knew she would chase me up here. It’s her job, to make sure I face the adoring public.
“Look. Come downstairs. Smile and talk to some directors. Get your picture taken a few times. As soon as the ball drops, we’ll get out of here. Can you do that for me?”
Of course. There isn’t really a question. “What do I get out of it?”
She huffs, a noise that is half laugh, half exasperation. “A quiet weekend. I won’t even make you leave the house to eat.”
I arch an eyebrow, twisting to stare at her. “Promise.”
Megs smirks, but nods. I glance away, staring out at the sea of lights, and the dark sky brightened by them.
I always thought I wanted this. It’s a long way from England. And I love my work—when I get to focus on that. It’s when the other shit intrudes—the press and constant barrage of questions about my personal life, my manger trying to navigate me where I don’t want to go. That’s what I don’t love. That’s when I want nothing but the quiet of the nearest rooftop.
“Knox,” she says, her voice crisp and demanding.
I glance at her briefly. In a sea of blonde models and brunette beauties, she stands out with wild red curls and a smattering of freckles her makeup doesn’t quite cover. She’s all fiery hair and peaches and cream skin, and no-nonsense practicality that reminds me of home.
I shake that thought, along with the longing for quiet, and summon the playboy smile—slightly crooked and self-assured. I grab my suit coat from the chair and stroll to the door to the roof.
I glance back when I open it, and she’s still standing there, watching me. In moments like this, I see more than professional concern—I see worry and the hint of caring she’s so careful to hide. I swallow hard and grin. “Come on, darling.”
Luca
Megan doesn’t know I’m here. She’s good at ignoring things not immediately in her line of sight when she’s working. And since she dragged Asher downstairs, he’s been swarmed by people anxious for his attention.
“Are you going to talk to him?” Sun asks, leaning against the bar by my elbow.
“Why?” I ask, twisting the glass of champagne in my hand.
“Because you want to. Because you’ll be working with him on Black Tides. Because your best friend is standing next to him, and it gives you an in.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t want an in.”
Sun is quiet for a long moment, then she laughs, a soft noise. “Luca, you’ve been waiting for an in for almost two years.”
I don’t respond, and she curses softly before walking away.
Megan and Asher are moving through the room, flashbulbs marking their passage.
I want to be there, with them. I want to be the arm Megan is leaning against. I don’t have time for this, not right now—Megan is working, and Asher barely knows I exist. I should leave. Before I end up doing something I’ll regret.
I text Sun—easier than trying to find her.
Me: Going to go home. If you talk to Meg, give her my love.
Sun: Is that all you want me to give her? ;)
I swallow a laugh and turn away.
Asher Knox is standing there, hands thrust deep into the pockets of his suit pants, a blank expression on his face.
“Sorry,” I murmur. His eyes spark with interest, and he offers me a shade of that famous smile.
“No worries, mate.”
I step to one side, and Asher eases onto a bar stool. “Can I get a beer?” he asks, quietly. The bartender responds immediately. I laugh.
Knox slides a quick look at me. “What?”
“I waited almost thirty minutes for a glass of champagne.”
He looks uncomfortable. But then, Asher hates being recognized, even when he puts himself in a situation where being recognized is inevitable.
“Do you want anything?” he asks, instead of addressing the discomfort.
“No,” I say. I swallow dryly.
“Luca?” a startled, sweet voice says.
Both of us turn, and Asher looks quickly at me. “What are you doing here?” Megan asks, a smile on her lips. She leans in to give me a quick hug, and I brush a kiss across her cheek.
“Sun wanted to come. I had the tickets. I’m actually headed out soon,” I say. Asher shifts, and I focus on him. “Luca James,” I say, extending a hand.
He looks confused as he shakes it briefly. “Asher Knox.”
I grin. “Yeah. I know.”
“Asher, Luca is one of my best friends. I didn’t realize he’d be here tonight.”
There’s a hint of censure in her tone, something that tells me she isn’t happy—but then, Megan hates mixing business and pleasure. “Like I said, I’m on my way out. We still getting together later this week?”
She nods, and I give Asher a nod, trying to keep my face bland. As I walk away, I can feel them watching me and hear his softly murmured question.
I try very hard to think about anything but the fact that I don’t want to leave them.
Chapter Two
Megan
I wake up with a pounding headache and a mouth that feels fuzzy with the taste of stale alcohol. Somewhere in the apartment, my phone is warbling, an awful song Nik programed last time she came to town that I haven’t bothered to change. I fall out of bed and limp on one heel down the hall. I fish my phone from my purse and slump against the wall, ignoring my pounding head as I answer. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”
“Where is he?” my boss demands, ignoring the rasp of my voice.
I roll my eyes. “He’s in bed. Where anyone who was at that party last night would be.”
If Kevin catches the dig, he ignores it. “Get your ass moving, girl.”
“Why?” I come alert and reach down to tug my shoe off before hurrying down the hall. Scenarios of everything that could have gone wrong play through my head.
“Because if you leave him alone too long, he goes off the reservation, and I don’t have time to track him down again. I need you to keep him leashed until next week.”
“Don’t worry so much,” I say. “I know how to do my job. I’ll keep him quiet until the call back.”
“Has he agreed to take it if they offer?”
I sigh¸ reaching in to turn on my shower. “He’s deciding. He waffles, you know that. Until an offer is on the table, he won’t make a decision. I’m putting the pressure on him, though, and it seems to be working.”
“Well, get him to commit. That’s why you’re there.”
I bark a laugh. “I’m here because I’m the type of girl he likes to fuck.”
“Whatever,” my uncle says, brusquely. “Keep him in sight and out of trouble until we have the contract.”
I take a deep breath. “After that he needs a break.”
“Megan, we’ve discussed this,” Kevin starts, and I jump in to cut him off.
“I know. Taking him out of the spotlight could backfire. But if we leave him in the pressure for too long, he’ll go off on his own, and we can’t control that. If we offer the escape, we call the shots.”
“He’ll know what we’re doing.”
Of course he will. Knox is a lot of things—difficult, sexy, brooding, and unpredictable—but he is also brilliant and almost always knows when I’m manipulating him. Doesn’t mean I can’t do it. I’ve been his personal assistant—a glorified babysitter—for longer than any of my predecessors, precisely because I can manipulate him.
“He won’t care,” I say.
Kevin is quiet for almost ten seconds. Long enough I check my phone to make sure he hasn’t hung up. Then, “Fine. We’ll talk about it in a few days. Get him through the call back.”
“Yes, sir.”
I hang up and strip out of my cocktail dress, stepping into the still lukewarm shower. I don’t have time to wait for it to heat.
Kevin is right—leaving Knox by himself is a recipe for disaster.
I pull up to the house and stare at it while I sip my coffee. It’s dark, but the curtains in the living room are moving—which means Knox left the back door open again. I curse and kick off my heels, sliding into a pair of flip flops I keep for occasions like this. I grab my coffee and the large hot tea and slip out of the car, nudging the door shut with my butt before making my way around the side of the house and out onto the private beach. It’s empty, the early morn
ing light watery and cold as the waves lap at the shore. I shiver, staring. I love the ocean—it’s one of the perks of working as Asher Knox’s PA. I love how small and unimportant I feel staring at it.
I shake off the fanciful thoughts and make my way down the windy beach. There’s a small natural curve, a rock wall rising up to brace the tiny cove from the wind. It’s Knox’s favorite place to go—nine times out of ten, I find him there. True to form, he’s sitting in the sand, arms looped around his knees as he stares at the water. I approach and perch on the Adirondack chair he dragged out here for me.
He doesn’t stir as I sit, but takes the cup when I tap his shoulder with it.
We don’t talk. My head hurts too much to bother, and he likes the morning quiet.
Despite growing up in London and moving to Hollywood three years ago at the age of twenty-one, Asher is still remarkably outdoorsy. It’s annoying as hell—there have been several occasions one of his PAs would show up and find the house deserted, Asher gone.
Going off the grid without his cell phone is one of his favorite pastimes. He always turns up, usually within a week. Smelly and covered in bug bites and peaceful. For a while, his moodiness lightened.
It never lasts, though.
I shiver, and he glances back at me. I’m annoyed he’s in a worn pair of blue jeans, shirtless and barefoot, while I’m in leggings and a thick, long sweater dress. But he looks good. Sleepy and content.
“Did I earn a reprieve?” he asks, gently teasing.
I snort, and he laughs soundlessly. “Don’t you get bored with the quiet?” I ask. He looks faintly horrified.
“No! Don’t you ever get exhausted with all the noise?”
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