Seven Minutes In Heaven: A Standalone Billionaire Romance (Betrothed Book 2)

by Cynthia Dane

  Claire almost blushed herself out of the salon. Jake, on the other hand, said, “C’mon, Dad. Let’s not embarrass her. I’m older than her, for fuck’s sake.”

  “Are you?” Arthur counted on his fingers. “I thought you were only twenty-three.”

  “Twenty-six.”

  “Really! Well, how about that? How old are you, Claire?”

  I can’t believe I have to remind him. “Twenty-five.” An old, aged crone in terms of Hollywood pandering.

  “How about that?”

  Claire didn’t mean to catch Jake’s eye as she resettled into her seat. Except there those brown eyes were, glancing in her direction when she crossed her legs and momentarily pushed up her chest so she could brush a crumb off her lap. How dare he, honestly? How dare he be who he was. How dare he have sex with her, knowing damn well who she was. And how dare he still be so handsome in his collared shirt and work pants! The man even had perfectly mussed hair! How much did he spend at the salon to get it looking like that? Or had he perfected it on his own? Does he fix his hair naked or after he’s put on his clothes? Claire chastised herself for those inappropriate thoughts.

  She really should not be thinking about sex with Jake. Not when his father was at the table with them. God, how would Arthur even take a fact like that? It would have been one thing for Claire to screw around with an unrelated guy. Arthur’s own son? She could single-handedly destroy the precarious relationship between father and son. What kind of monster would she be?

  Harden your heart, girl. This is southern California. There are no morals or ethics when your future is on the line. She further chastised herself for thinking that.

  Yet Jake was still here. He still had the magnetic kind of pull that easily drew women in and made them do stupid, stupid things.

  Claire was already thinking about kissing those lips again. Ripping off those clothes. Pouring kisses as sensual as the tingles in her body all over his skin. She longed to renew the feeling of him inside of her, driving her wild and mad with orgasm.

  This time in bed and not in some cramped closet.

  Oh, God. This was going to be hell.

  “Do you have a girlfriend, Jake?” she asked.

  He sat back in his seat. “No.”

  “That’s my biggest gripe about my son,” Arthur said. “He’s not enough of a ladies’ man.”

  “Please.” Jake turned on the face he must have been hiding from his father this whole time. “Do we have to do this in front of your fiancée?”

  “Do what?” Claire asked.

  Arthur laughed. “My son has a terrible habit of not having a girlfriend. He’s such a romantic. No idea where he gets it from, because that doesn’t describe his mom or me.” He winked at his fiancée. “Sorry, hon, but you knew that already.”

  Don’t have to tell me twice. “Romance is overrated now. I’m sure Jake’s fine.” They didn’t make eye contact.

  “See? This is why you shouldn’t be telling your fiancée about my love life.” Jake pretended to be nonplussed by his father’s meddling, but Claire sensed a definitive uneasiness radiating from his body. “Mom meddles enough as it is.”

  “We’re your parents, son. It’s our job to make sure you’re good and bothered in the romance department.”

  “I can’t say I’ve ever hurt to have more attentions in my personal life.” The way Jake said that implied he had nothing else to say on the matter, and that the subject was closed.

  “So does this mean you’re not bringing a date to the wedding?”

  Arthur looked in his fiancée’s direction with another laugh in his mouth. “She’s asking the hard-hitting questions.”

  “I only ask, because I know quite a few eligible bachelorettes who might like to have his +1 at the wedding.”

  “Haven’t you invited them all already, sweetie?”

  Jake pushed his chair back. “Excuse me. I’m gonna use the restroom while you two figure out my personal life.”

  Arthur was still chuckling long after his son departed the salon. Drinks were served, and the maid asked if they were still having salads for lunch. Arthur waved her off and said to Claire, “Please forgive Jacob. He’s sensitive to any topic not related to work. Sometimes I swear his mother turned him against me.”

  I wonder what Carmen is really like. Claire also wondered if the woman she now replaced was a recluse because of what Arthur had done to her emotionally, or because she really wanted her life to be that way. Was that what Claire had in store for her life if she went through with this wedding? I’ve got one thing on my side, though. I know about the affairs ahead of time. Then again, maybe Carmen had known as well. Who knew why she married Arthur?

  “He seems like a nice man.”

  “Ah, that’s right.” Arthur leaned against the table and regarded his fiancée with newfound curiosity. “I forget that to someone like you, he is a man. To me, he’ll always be a boy. That’s how it is when you’re a parent.”

  “I’m sure.”

  Claire rose from her seat and announced that she was also going to the bathroom. Arthur waved her off and jumped into texting some stranger, his phone tucked protectively against his chest. Your newest girlfriend, Art? Was it the same woman he screwed at the party, or some other up-and-coming actress who owed him a favor?

  She shuddered. One day, these guys would get what was coming to them.

  Claire didn’t really have to go to the bathroom. She hoped to bump into Jake in the hallway, preferably somewhere they could have a private conversation for a few minutes. Even if they didn’t carnally know each other, there were a few things Claire wanted to clear up before forging a familial relationship with the man who would soon be her legal stepson.

  There he was, tarrying in the corner of the hallway, on his phone. Somehow, Claire doubted that Jake spoke with his father.

  “Anything interesting?” Claire leaned against the wall. “Must be, if you’re using it as an excuse to avoid your father and me. Mostly me.”

  “Actually…” Jake glanced up at her. The bright, Californian sunshine played with the golden brown of his hair. It really is golden, isn’t it? Hard to see those fine details in a darkened coat closet. Jake had the kind of hair that only showed its true colors in the sunlight. It helped that the golden brown of his hair perfectly complemented the bold brown of his eyes. “I really am avoiding my father over you. So don’t take it personally. Far as I’m concerned, you’re an absolute delight.”

  “So that’s why you say it with such a droll tone?”

  “Forgive me. You may be a delight compared to him, but I’m still living in an actual nightmare right now.”

  Claire kept her arms crossed. Perhaps the barrier would alleviate some of Jake’s worries that Claire was once more overstepping her bounds. “I’ll go ahead and say that I don’t have any regrets, then. Let’s put it behind us.”

  Jake slowly shook his head. “Doesn’t work that way.”

  “It doesn’t?”

  “No.” He put his phone away. “Because I like you too much to put up with this.”

  Claire cocked her head. The man was now close enough to kiss, but he kept his lips far away from hers. “Is that so? Our past is gonna be a problem, huh?”

  “I’ll tell you the same thing I’ve been telling my mother for the past several years.” Jake propped his hand against the wall, an imposing presence near Claire. Yet she wasn’t threatened. If anything, she continued to find him too attractive to push away. Even if we never do it again, well, at least I get to have those fond memories every time he drags them up. Maybe the hardest part wouldn’t be around him. The hardest part was marrying his father and possibly seeing Jake with another woman sometime soon. In another life, it could’ve been me.

  Why couldn’t she have been set up with Jake instead?

  “You deserve much better than what that man could ever offer you.”

  Claire hadn’t expected something like that. “You’re only saying that because I’ll be leec
hing from your inheritance.”

  “I don’t care too much about that, honestly. I care that my father has already fucked over the lives of countless women, and that’s since I was born.” Jake shrugged. “My mom’s not the only one he fucked up. But… if you’ve made up your mind, I won’t deter you. I want my father to be happy, but don’t expect him to put your happiness first.”

  “I know what’s going on here, Jake.” Claire snorted. “I’m not marrying your father for love. I barely knew the man before I agreed to marry him. I want security and connections, like any other woman in Hollywood.”

  “Of course. Why do you think it only took him five months to find a woman with a good background and under thirty willing to marry him? You’re all a dime a dozen.”

  “Thought you weren’t out to insult me.”

  “I’m not. Just making sure you know what you’re getting yourself into. If all you truly care about is money and his influence in the industry, fine. You’ll already come out of it better than my mother did.”

  Claire studied the lines growing on his face. They easily aged him five, ten years, even though he was only a year older than her. Is that a hereditary trait, or is he already worn down at such a young age? He was certainly more professional and mature than other that Claire knew. “You’re really close with your mom, huh?”

  “Go ahead and call me a Momma’s Boy, if you want. You wouldn’t be the first.”

  “I think it’s admirable. I was a huge fan of her work growing up, and wondered why she stopped making movies when I was finally old enough to appreciate them.”

  “Because her life didn’t go the best way it could have.” Jake pushed himself away from the wall. “Maybe I’ll introduce you one day. I’m sure she would have some advice for you.”

  “Delightful.”

  Jake went ahead of her down the hall. “I really don’t have a girlfriend,” he called back at her. “Don’t worry about that.”

  Honestly, it was one of the last things on her mind.

  Chapter 5

  Jake was not a staple around the Carters’ property. After the engagement party and subsequent weekend with her fiancé, Claire returned to her family home, where she interspersed wedding planning with going to auditions and hanging out with her friends. As far as she was concerned, life was normal, and if she didn’t think about what happened at the party… bah. Who cared? A crazy story to put in her Hollywood memoir fifty years from now, long after Arthur – and maybe Jake – were dead.

  Outside of wedding planning, the only time Claire thought about Arthur was when she came home to find a new bouquet of flowers in her room. The man sure knew how to pick a colorful bouquet, at least.

  “I can’t believe I actually got a call back!” Claire traced her finger around an orchid petal while on the phone with her friend Alicia. “My agent assures me that there were only four women who got called back for the final round of auditions. Can you believe it? Me! In a romantic comedy!”

  “The timing makes it sound like it’ll be released in January.” Claire could hear the disdain in Alicia’s unimpressed voice. “Sorry, but it’s destined to be a bomb.”

  “Okay, pessimist Penny.” Claire rolled her eyes. “Right now, I’ll take whatever decent role I can get. You know that.”

  “Pretty soon your biggest role will be as Mrs. Carter, so who cares?”

  “I care.” Claire had no intention to drop her acting dreams because she was married. If anything, the marriage was supposed to help get her feet through doors, since her grandfather’s name wasn’t doing much for her anymore. I don’t have lofty Oscar aspirations. All I want is a fun career doing different things. Claire knew her limitations as an actress. She would never be Meryl Streep or Katherine Hepburn. Yet earning her legacy as a fun, flirty actress who didn’t take her roles too seriously but still did them professionally? There was a lot of honor in that. Claire wasn’t in it for millions of dollars or eternal fame. But she would live for the day when a fan wrote her, “Every time I see your name or face in a movie, I stop to watch it, because I know it will be good.”

  This rom-com would be a good start. With any luck, Claire would be offered the lead role and not the Best Friend role yet again.

  Someone knocked on her bedroom door as she hung up on Alicia. “What is it?”

  Her mother Gloria poked her head in. “There’s a deliveryman here for you.”

  “More flowers?” Claire asked with a sigh. “I thought I told Arthur that you’re allergic to the bouquets he’s been sending.”

  “No. Not flowers, for once.” Gloria opened her daughter’s door all the way. “You might want to come down here to see it for yourself.”

  Claire followed her mother downstairs, unsure of what to make of this proclamation. Don’t tell me Arthur’s sending me bigger presents I can’t use. At least flowers wilted, and brought color to a room before their untimely deaths. Oooor maybe it was a chocolate fountain? Now that could be something!

  It was neither flowers nor a chocolate fountain. Claire stood at the bottom of the staircase, eyes wide and heart leaping up her throat.

  “What… the…”

  “It really is quite audacious, huh?” Gloria shrugged. “I better have it forwarded to Arthur’s house, because there’s no room for it here.”

  The courier presented Claire with a tablet for electronic signing. She was hardly prepared to sign anything, however. For the ridiculous portrait before her screamed Carter Ostentatiousness like a woman would usually scream that such a present was beyond the pale.

  “That’s so not your nose.” Gloria touched the gilded frame surrounding her daughter’s twenty-by-twenty portrait. This thing is the size of some rooms! “Maybe it’s the nose Arthur wishes to buy you, though. It’s cute. Very on-trend in plastic surgery these days. I think the one you get from my side is fine, though. Remember what I always taught you, Claire: don’t fix what isn’t broken.”

  Claire handed the tablet back to the courier and approached her painted likeness. “I never posed for something like this!”

  “It looks like a composite image. I know you’ve had photos of you sitting like this and looking in that direction. The artist must have taken images of you form the internet and created this. You also don’t have a dress like that, do you?”

  “No.” It looked like a dress she would wear, however. Bold red, like her lipstick – like the roses and carnations she had received since the engagement party. The waviness of her blond hair was how she styled it for the Oscars earlier that year – except the artist had taken care to not include her dark roots. “Looks Dior.”

  “It might be. Doesn’t sound like something Arthur would have a hand in.” Gloria chuckled. “Must’ve been the painter’s vision.”

  “Who painted this?” Claire searched for a signature. All she found was a date from three days ago. “Damnit. Was hoping I might be able to investigate.”

  “It’s a gift, Claire. Just accept it with the grace I reared you with. You should thank Arthur. Sooner, the better. This probably cost a few dollars.”

  He could’ve pocketed those dollars! The painting wasn’t atrocious, but what was the point? Claire didn’t have any use for a giant, painted portrait of herself, especially if she never actually sat for it. What would she even do with this? Become the stereotype of the old, has-been actress who hung up portraits of herself in her hey-day so she could remember what it was like to be the biggest it-girl around? As if!

  Claire soon realized why this unsettled her. This portrait was so much like the one of Carmen Carter hanging up in Arthur’s office. Gross! Could the man be any more transparent? Get paintings of his wives like they were trading cards. Would this one hang up on the other side of his office, so Claire and Carmen could wage war over their husband’s head? While he fucked other women and they both crumbled in misery?

  “Please, get it out of here. I’ll pay for the movers myself.” Claire turned her back on the portrait. “It’s giving me the creeps.�
�

  “Didn’t Arthur have a portrait like this of his first wife?”

  “If you mean the Carmen Carter, then yes. He does.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Please, Mom, I can’t stand looking at it. I feel like I’m gonna be sick.” Claire gripped the stairway banister. “I need to prepare for my callback, anyway. If Arthur stops by, you know what to do.”

  She didn’t wait to hear her mother’s reaction. Claire wanted to get as far away from the portrait as possible. With any luck, Arthur would hang it up in his office, and she would officially have a reason to stay far, far away from that tainted room.

  ***

  The gifts kept coming.

  Every day, someone stopped by to deliver a new gift for Claire Finn. First, it was one bouquet after another. Then? Teddy bears. Chocolates. Pieces of jewelry and slinky cocktail dresses Claire had been eyeballing. Every day was Valentine’s Day in the Finn household.

  A part of Claire felt guilty that she didn’t acknowledge them. Something was terribly off, anyway. It wasn’t abnormal for her fiancé to send her presents like this, but at this rate? Ridiculous. What was she supposed to do with this junk? The worst part? Claire’s allergies had gone more haywire than usual, as if she suddenly turned into her mother overnight. Stop. Sending. Me. Flowers! It got to the point that the servants in Claire’s house had to immediately do away with the flowers to keep the women of the home from dying of hay fever. Claire chalked this up to such an overdose of floral arrangements. It was also probably why she felt queasier with each passing day.

  She threw herself into preparing for her final audition. Meetings with her agent, wedding planner, and stylist for the upcoming garden party season had her so stressed that she skipped a period. Not unusual, honestly. Claire’s body was so susceptible to stress that she had skipped four periods in the past three years. It was even worse when she was a teenager!

  So, she upped the amount of yoga and meditation sessions she took. She changed her diet around, both to account for swimsuit season, and to help keep her stress in check. It kept her mind off things, anyway. It was one thing to stop thinking about her stressful audition to turn around and think about marrying Arthur Carter.