Hollywood Playboy (Hollywood Royalty 1)

She stops and turns around. “She’s gone,” she says softly and quietly. “Her apartment was emptied yesterday.”

“More lies,” I hiss. “The paparazzi have staked out her apartment, and if she showed up, it would be in the papers.”

She shakes her head. “Don’t believe me, go see for yourself. It took the movers twenty-seven minutes to clear out her apartment. She never showed.” She turns and grabs the handle of the door. “She wasn’t fired either; she quit her job at the paper the day after.” That is the last thing she says before she slams the door.

“Larry”—I turn to him—“I want everything in place in case Cassie tries to fuck me over.” He just nods at me and then grabs his things, walking out.

“You need to get drunk,” Edward says. “I’m going to go get a bottle of something.”

“Get two,” Ryan says. “I need to get drunk also.” Edward nods and walks out of the room. “Cassie was right,” he whispers. “She’s gone.” I look at him, and he goes back to sit down in his chair. “Quit her job, too. Stephanie called me, trying to get me to hire Jessica to handle the PR with the production company.”

“Stephanie? The same Stephanie who ran the fucking story and blindsided her?” I point out. “She was left out to dry, and she had no one at her back.”

“She had at least one person at her back,” he says, and Edward returns with two bottles of whiskey and three glasses. He pours two fingers of amber liquid in each glass, and I take mine, downing it in one shot, ignoring the burning. Ryan does the same. “She had to have had one person at her back to get out of New York without a trace.”

“Private plane,” Edward says, drinking his own drink. The past four days show on all of us. “She must have had a private plane.”

I pick up my phone and call Donnie, who answers right away. “Did you check private planes leaving out of New York?” I wait for him to answer.

“Yes, I did, and there is no record of her,” he says, and I hear papers being shuffled around, “there were five planes that took off that day.” I put my phone to the side and tell the guys.

“How many passengers in each plane?” Ryan asks me, and I ask Donnie.

“Five, six, ten, two, and one.” My mind starts going in circles. “The one with just one person was for Kellie Taylor.”

“The country star?” I ask him. “That makes no sense. She wouldn’t be traveling by herself.”

“The flight left New York and went to Montana,” he tells me. “Give me thirty minutes and I’ll call you back.” He hangs up the phone, and I look over at Ryan.

“What do you know about Kellie Taylor?”

“She’s on tour,” he starts saying. “Well, she was on tour. She just finished her tour.”

“Do you have her number?” It’s a long shot, but it’s the only one I have.

“You know I can’t give you that,” he says and then sees my face, “but I can make a phone call and see what I can do.” I nod, taking another shot of whiskey while Ryan gets up. “If this lead pans out, you really want to show up drunk?”

“If this pans out, there better be an army stopping me from getting to her,” I say to him, taking another drink of the whiskey.

“I hate to say Ryan is right, but,” Edward says, “if she’s there, you think she’s going to want you drunk?”

“If she even wants me,” I mumble under my breath. I shake my head. “I fucked up so badly.” I look at Edward. “I knew Cassie was crossing the line when it came to Jessica, but I never . . .” I shake my head. “I never thought she would do what she did.”

“She’s been in love with you for thirteen years.” He throws his head back and laughs when I look at him with my mouth hanging open. “You had to know.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I hiss. “She worked for me. I would never.”

“I know you would never”—he takes a drink of the whiskey—“but she was just waiting for you to see her.” I don’t have a chance to answer because Ryan comes back into the room.

“And?” My hands get clammy, my mouth suddenly drier than the desert in the summer.

“Well, I was told to fuck off.” He laughs, sitting down. “Then I was threatened that if I showed up there, she would shoot my balls off and feed me to her dogs.”

“I think I love her,” Edward says with a smirk, taking a drink of water.

“It gets better.” He laughs now. “She said that if you showed up”—he points at me—“she’d shoot you in the foot but only one.” He laughs into his drink. “Then you would die by papercuts.”