Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 111443 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111443 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
“Why not make it October first, then?” Gray suggested awkwardly. “We’ll have an even longer honeymoon.”
“We’re busy that weekend,” Justin replied around a mouthful of pizza. “But I can switch things if it’s important.”
I pasted a crooked smile on my face. “Well, let me know. Later.”
I added a thumbs-up like a real dufus before making my speedy exit. As speedy as I could manage in a crystal palace of glass and tile and gleaming hardwood. I couldn’t run out the door without causing alarm.
I walked quickly, inhaling deeply as I stepped outside and headed down the steep palm-lined pathway to my Audi. I slipped behind the wheel and started the car…cool as a cucumber. Sort of. My breathing was off. It was too ragged, too shallow.
Fuck. This was a bad time for a panic attack. I couldn’t linger in front of Gray’s house, and I sure as hell didn’t want to go home. It was too big and way too empty. I needed a diversion…someplace neutral where I could talk to people who wouldn’t ask hard questions. Matteo’s, maybe. No, at this hour it would be packed with agents, investors, and celebrity gossips who speculated about everyone else’s lovers.
Like me with…Trent.
Trent.
I couldn’t call him. That was against the rules. I didn’t know his number anyway.
Charlie did, and Trish… No. Bad idea. I wasn’t going to see Trent again. I wasn’t going to know about his life. Other than…I knew he worked for Charlie now. I hadn’t asked for details and trust me, it killed me not to.
I wondered if he’d kept his job at the Mexican restaurant. What was it called? Casa del…
Don’t do it. Don’t do it.
I revved the engine to life and eased my car away from the curb before asking my car’s computer, “Where’s Casa del Sol?”
Turned out Casa del Sol was a fifteen-minute drive from Gray’s Hollywood Hills estate.
Easy enough. But here’s the deal: Protocol stated that I was to use a driver for business purposes or when visiting places unknown for safety and insurance purposes. That was kind of a nebulous statement, but the gist was that while I might not be a movie star and most people wouldn’t recognize me walking down the street or standing in line at a coffee shop, my health and general well-being was crucial to the success of the studio I’d founded. I couldn’t take stupid risks like getting distracted on a conference call while dodging slower-moving cars on the 405.
Honestly, I didn’t mind being chauffeured. LA traffic sucked and Carlos, my driver, was a good guy.
However, since I was in charge, I bent the rules when I felt like it. Within reason. I drove to the studio and to my friends’ houses or to pick up Oliver from his mom’s. Occasionally, I drove to Matteo’s or a restaurant near the studio, but Carlos was always on call to pick me up. Especially if I’d had more than one drink. I hadn’t called him the night I met Trent, and I wasn’t going to now.
Besides, this was probably a waste of time. And it was definitely stupid. There was no point in inviting an audience.
So I cruised down Sunset and headed east, pulling off at a side street near the Hollywood Palladium. I miraculously found a parking space half a block from the restaurant. Awesome.
Except for the part where I wasn’t sure what the fuck I was doing. Hell, I didn’t know if Trent was working tonight. And what was I going to say to him anyway? Hey, I had a hankering for chips and salsa?
Whatever. I was here now and I didn’t have a better idea. I pushed open the door of Casa del Sol and stepped up to the reception desk.
“Hi, there. Party of one?” A peppy young woman with wide eyes and pencil-thin brows pulled a menu from the credenza beside her.
“That depends. Is Trent Mackay here?” I asked cautiously. Christ, I sounded like a reporter or a detective. I added a smile I hoped diluted the business edge from my tone.
“I think he’s off now.” Oh. “I mean, his shift just ended. He covered for Macy tonight, but um…he might be here still. I can check for you.”
“Thank you.”
She blinked nervously as she skirted the desk area. “Uh…by the way, I’m a huge fan. I’ve seen every Baxter movie at least five times. Snake Ink, probably ten times. You’re just…brilliant.”
Oh.
“Thank you.”
“And Pierce is so handsome. He’s the perfect Baxter.”
Shit.
“He’s very good,” I agreed. “I didn’t catch your name.”
She turned three shades of pink at once. “Oh, my gosh. I’m Lisa. Lisa Ramos. I’m an actress. I’ve done a few commercials. You might have seen the one I did for the casino in San Manuel.”
“Maybe so.” I smiled gently and inclined my head when a party of two stepped into the restaurant. “Would you mind…”