Publicity Stunt (Hollywood Knights Book Two)

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Publicity Stunt (Hollywood Knights Book Two) Page 11

by Cassie Reed


  He stared back at her, a surprised smirk spreading across his face.

  She narrowed her eyes. The last time she had seen him she was being taken away in handcuffs. After that, he hadn’t come to her defense, not once, instead focusing on his own brand of damage control. “It was a dark night,” he had said vaguely. “For everyone involved.”

  “Heeey,” she said, turning her fake charm up to eleven to even out her urge to gag, run, or both.

  “Would you imagine that?” he said, holding out his hands. “How have you been?”

  “I’m here,” she replied ambiguously. “How about you?”

  “I’ve been great actually,” he declared. “Work has been insane.”

  “Really? That’s wonderful.” In reality, she had been more than aware of the fantastic year David had been having. Not only had he been on all the entertainment shows after wrapping two successful movies, but mutual acquaintances of theirs had managed to bring it up nearly every chance they got. Did you hear about David? He’s doing great. It was like he had paid them.

  She had detested hearing about him and his so-called success. While it was true she had gotten mouthy with the police after one too many Mai Tais, it had been David who had actually attempted to drive somewhere while under the influence, unbeknownst to her. But one court-mandated treatment program and a stint of community service later, and all had seemingly been forgiven. Meanwhile, she had been torn to pieces by every talk show, celebrity website, and late night host with a pulse. The double standard had been so ironic it hurt. It literally hurt.

  “Are you here with someone?” he asked.

  “I came with a friend, so. . .” She let her words trail off. It was technically the truth. As much as she normally would have relished the chance for a walk down memory lane, with anyone but David of course, she found herself looking for an exit. “Well, it was so nice seeing you again, but I should get going. To my table,” she added.

  “Yeah, sure, of course. Where are you seated?”

  “Oh you know, somewhere over there.” She gave a random hand wave.

  He nodded. “Okay. Well bring it in,” he said, holding his arms out toward her.

  She hesitated before taking a step forward and putting her shoulder to his chest, her hands patting his arm halfheartedly. He wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her in a full hug before letting her go. “You look great, by the way,” he said into her ear.

  Those were the words of a hungry ex, one looking for a walk down memory lane of his own. She grimaced. That definitely wasn’t happening.

  She pulled away from him and turned to leave. “It was nice seeing you, David—”

  Her words caught in her throat. A mere six feet away stood Monica Hargrove. Olivia let out a silent curse. She knew TMI would be represented here in one way or another, so why hadn’t she expected the top troll herself? Frozen in place, she watched as the editor turned and looked at her curiously.

  What humiliating stories would the woman conjure up about her after tonight? Olivia Warner—Alone, Confused, and Totally Out of Her Element!

  She couldn’t give her any ammo, let alone leave a window open for an impromptu interview.

  “On second thought,” Olivia said, turning back to David and wrapping one of her arms around his. Slowly, she began to lead him past Monica and her minions. “Tell me more about what you’ve been working on.”

  “Really?” David said. “Okay. Well there’s this new arthouse film. . .”

  Olivia nodded. Just a little bit further and she would be in the clear.

  To her chagrin, she felt David wrap an arm around her waist. She tolerated it, the realization that in just a few more seconds they would be well out of view. She was nearly home free when her eyes landed on a familiar face. Dashingly handsome in a well-fitting black tuxedo, his thick brown hair combed back over his head, she nearly didn’t recognize him. In shock, she pulled free from David. “Trayce,” she said.

  It was too late. She could see the betrayal in his eyes, right before he turned around and headed for the door.

  “Trayce, wait!” she called as she ran after him as fast as her form-fitting dress would allow. Around her, people turned and stared, but she didn’t care. She just wanted to get to him. She had to. Running outside, she turned from side to side, looking for which way he had gone. People continued to filter into the theater, blocking her view, and her movements. “Trayce!” she shouted, but it was all in vain.

  He was gone.

  20

  Trayce’s black dress shoes moved across the pavement as fast as he could take them. So much for those leather soles, he thought. They were sure to be taking a beating, but he wouldn’t allow himself to stop walking. He had to get away as fast as he could, away from the theater, away from what he had just seen.

  Olivia hanging off the arm of some. . .guy. Leaning into him, his arm around her waist.

  He seethed.

  That was his territory.

  He had half-considered laying out the guy with one punch but it was the clueless look on his face, and the caught look on Olivia’s, that told Trayce that would have solved nothing. He hadn’t been ready to confront her then, his mind too in shock to know what to confront her about. A motorcycle ride and a dinner? Maybe she was just the type of woman who enjoyed playing with her food before she ate it. Maybe a woman as powerful as her had a dozen boyfriends.

  But it hadn’t felt like that. Things had felt real between them, and genuine. It was the reason he was there tonight. To show her that what was important to her was important to him. It may have taken a little extra inner pep talk, but as he dug out his tuxedo after arriving home early from work, he didn’t have a doubt in his mind that being there for her was the right thing to do.

  Only for it to all blow up in his face.

  “Trayce!”

  He had just rounded a corner of the theater when he heard her voice. Away from all the red carpet action, he could hear her heels bouncing off the pavement after him. Stopping his feet, he waited, listening to her approach until he could hear her breath right behind him. He turned around slowly, taking her in, her parted lips, the wild-eyed stare she was giving him, her windswept hair and just-smudged eyeliner. He resisted the urge to grab her. “What?” he said instead.

  “What are you doing here?” she gasped.

  “Who was that?” he shot back, ignoring her question.

  “My fiancé,” she attempted to explain. “I mean, my ex-fiancé.”

  “I thought you said you were coming with Mia.”

  “I did but she ditched me,” Olivia said. “And then I ran into David, and Trayce, you have to trust me, there’s nothing going on there. It was just, I saw Monica Hargrove from TMI and that woman has got it out for me. If she realized I was there alone—”

  “So you pretended to be on the arm of your ex so a tabloid wouldn’t write a mean story about you?”

  “Exactly!” Olivia exclaimed. “It was just pretending.”

  He looked at her and her wide eyes, the way she was trying to make him see. He saw alright. You could take the girl out of Hollywood, but you could never take the Hollywood out of the girl. The fact that she had cared so much about what a trash-peddler like Monica Hargrove thought had gone straight over her head. It was like she was trying to make him see that of course she cared.

  He couldn’t compete with that. It had been a myth to think someone like her would ever want to be seen with someone like him. He wasn’t another A-lister. He was just a nameless stuntman, a glorified body double, and you couldn’t make headlines with those.

  “Well, it didn’t look like your ex-fiancé was pretending in there, Olivia,” he told her. “Maybe you should consider giving him another chance.”

  She frowned. “It was a—a joke,” she emphasized. “It was just an act.”

  “Is everything always just an act for you, Olivia?” he found himself saying. “Is anything ever real?”

  She looked momentarily stunned, her mout
h hanging open in surprise before she continued. “What’s that even supposed to mean?”

  “You’ll go to any length to keep your image up,” Trayce said. “I’ve known it this whole time but the more I thought I was getting to know you the more I ignored it. But you’ll do anything. You’ll deceive people if you have to.”

  “Trayce—”

  “Don’t try and refute it,” he told her. “It’s how we met, remember? Real or not real, fake or not fake, you paid me to help you deceive people. Just so you could get fifteen minutes of free press.”

  She was quiet, her arms crossed across her chest. A small tremble quivered through her bottom lip.

  “Don’t get me wrong, I take responsibility for the role I played in it.” He dug into his pocket, producing the roll of cash he had brought with him. “I’m sure you recognize this. It’s the money you gave me the other night. The second part of your payment to me. If I still had the first part I would have brought that too, but I spent it on some of my brother’s bills before I realized what was happening.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

  “I kept it to give it back to you,” Trayce said. “I knew that night that I wasn’t going to be able to spend it. It wouldn’t have been right.”

  “Why not?” she asked, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

  “Because the nature of our relationship was changing. It wasn’t just transactional anymore,” he told her with a shake of his head. “Because I was falling for you.”

  “Trayce,” she uttered.

  “Take it,” he said, holding it out to her.

  “No,” she refused. “No take-backs. No refunds.”

  “I’m refunding you.”

  “I don’t want it—”

  “Take it,” he ordered.

  With a snap of her lips, she took a step forward, taking it from him and putting it into her clutch with a sigh. “There,” she said. “Happy now?”

  “Happy?” he asked her. “Of course I’m not happy.”

  “You could have told me you were coming, by the way,” she countered.

  “Why, so you could do a better job of not getting caught hanging off your ex?” Trayce asked. “Suppose pictures had been taken of the two of you. Would you have just had to continue perpetuating the lie because that’s what the press had printed about you? It’s a good question, isn’t it?”

  “It’s preposterous is what it is,” she said. “And actually, yes, if I had known you were coming, like a regular date, maybe I would have felt an ounce of relief that I wouldn’t have to spend the entire evening by myself.”

  “It’s always about you,” Trayce said. “And you didn’t exactly invite me in the firmest of ways. That’s why I thought I would surprise you.”

  “Well color me surprised,” Olivia shot back.

  “Yeah,” he said, looking at her. “Me too.”

  She was quiet again, her face a mixture of hurt, anger, and worry. It took everything he had to keep from reaching out for her, from wanting to take her in his arms and tell her everything would be okay. But he knew doing that would just be putting off the inevitable. They weren’t right for each other, they never would be, and the sooner they both came to that realization, the better.

  He stuffed his hands into his pockets, quelling the urge. “I’ll see you around, Olivia.” He turned around and began walking the way he had originally been going.

  “Trayce, wait,” he heard her call after him. “Please.”

  His heart thundered in his chest for her, but he refused to stop. He had lived enough life to know that sometimes things would be hard. Sometimes things would break your heart. But you just had to keep going when they did.

  21

  Olivia lied in bed, staring up at the gray comforter than had become her roof. She felt as though it had been weeks since she had left her bedroom, when in reality she knew it had been just a few days. But with the way each excruciating minute passed by, her phone lying next to her silently, it felt like an eternity. She would have lost all track of time if it hadn’t been for the clock displaying the day on her phone. She had picked it up more times than she could count, selecting Trayce’s contact and drafting message after message, all of which she deleted. There didn’t seem to be the right set of words that could convey what it was she was feeling.

  At the same time, she was tired of thinking about it. She was tired of thinking of everything. The night she and Trayce had argued had been an unmitigated disaster. Olivia had come out of it without not just one person who she held dear to her, but two. Not only had she not heard from Trayce or found the strength to reach out to him herself, but it was apparent that Mia had no desire to speak to her whatsoever either.

  Not that she could blame her.

  Olivia turned around in bed, flopping over onto her belly and pressing her cheek into the cool sheet underneath. Was there something just fundamentally wrong with her? Had she lost all common sense since moving to Hollywood, consumed by the business completely?

  She knew in some ways she had. In her attempt to prove to herself, among other people, that she could be a success, that she would amount to more than nothing, she had surrendered part of herself over to the lifestyle. The endless parties she needed to be seen at, the It crowd she tried to keep up with, the fancy house, the reputation she had to keep, and the prestige she was still trying so desperately to earn. Sometimes, it felt like a never-ending cycle.

  Would she ever be satisfied?

  Her gaze swept down to the floor, where her discarded dress from the other night was still crumpled in a ball. The sight of it grated on her nerves, so she closed her eyes. It only represented bad memories now.

  There was a knock at her closed bedroom door. Wiping her tired eyes, her mind searched for who it might be. Patrice, she suddenly realized. It was the housekeeper’s day to be there. “Come in!” Olivia hollered, swaying her voice in the most positive direction she could.

  The door swung open and Patrice entered, holding a glass of berry pink liquid in her hands. “I noticed you haven’t come down for breakfast all morning,” she explained, setting the glass down with a coaster on Olivia’s cherrywood nightstand. “So I made you some fresh juice.”

  Olivia smiled, taking the glass into her hands and taking a sip. It was pleasantly sweet and cold, and she realized it had indeed been a while since she had managed to wolf anything down. Not that lying in bed all day required that much energy. . . “Thank you, Patrice,” she said appreciatively. “You really are a life saver.”

  Patrice returned her look with a kindly smile of her own before arching her eyebrows in mild concern. “Are you doing alright these days, Ms. Olivia?”

  “I—” she began. Of course she was doing alright, she would have responded confidently under normal circumstances. Even in the midst of all the drama that had ensued after her arrest, she had always pretended to be fine, as though the situation was just a tiny blip on her radar. In reality, it had nearly ended her and Patrice had probably been around more than anyone else to actually notice. Even if she didn’t say it, the housekeeper most likely knew her better than she realized, and the thought was surprisingly comforting. “Honestly, Patrice,” she continued. “The past few days haven’t been so hot.”

  Patrice gave a nod. “You know what they say,” she reminded her. “It’s always darkest before the dawn.”

  “I hope they’re right,” Olivia replied. “But thanks. I think I’ll be alright. One way or another.”

  “Well, if there’s anything else I can do for you,” Patrice said before exiting the room. “Just call.”

  “Thank you, Patrice.”

  With that, Olivia was alone again, still holding the glass of juice in her hands. It felt nice to be taken care of, no matter how simple the gesture. That warm feeling that filled her now was but a fraction of the way she felt when she was with Trayce. He had always made her felt taken care of. The way he would listen to her, giving her his full attention, ta
lking with her, challenging her when she needed it. He had a way of bringing her down to earth, of making her a better person. It was as though he truly understood her.

  Except for that last night. She hadn’t felt like he had understood her at all, or that he was even willing to try. Frankly, she wasn’t sure if she understood herself. As soon as she saw David, she should have ran far away. He represented nothing but bad and bitter memories, so what had she been doing clinging to him? Trayce had been right. She had done something ridiculous, all in the name of keeping up her image.

  Only it felt too late to tell him that. She would call him and what, reiterate his own points back to him? And then what? He still probably wouldn’t want anything to do with her.

  Her phone rang from beside her suddenly, startling her out of her thoughts. Her eyes widened. Could it be too good to be true?

  Of course it was.

  It wasn’t Trayce, her mind registered as she picked up the phone. There was no ‘T’. But there was an ‘M’.

  Meredith.

  Meredith Mitchum was calling her?

  Setting the glass she was holding down, she lifted the phone to her ear. “Hello?” She cringed as her voice left her mouth in a hoarse, emotional creak.

  “Olivia, darling, how are you?” Meredith’s cheery greeting came through the other end. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

  “Not at all!” Olivia replied, a bit too enthusiastically. She had to find the middle ground between sounding bedraggedly depressed and so eager she would jump out of a plane at Meredith’s command. Regardless, she found herself scrambling out of bed out of sheer instinct and throwing open her closet doors, ready to find the perfect ensemble for whatever invite Meredith might be about to gift her.

  “I just saw your red carpet photos from the Film Critics’ Awards, you were such a vision—”

  “Ah, thank you—”

  “But I didn’t see you,” Meredith continued. “Did we just not run into each other that night?”

  “Oh,” Olivia uttered. “You know, actually I left a little early. I suddenly wasn’t feeling well.”

 

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