Hollywood Prince (Hollywood Royalty 3)

“Everything is perfect,” I tell her, and I mean it. I eat everything on my plate and even go back in for seconds. “Do you cook for your boyfriend?” I ask her the nagging question that has been looming in the back of my head since Saturday.

She looks at me, grabbing her bottle of water. “I don’t have a boyfriend,” she says, blocking her mouth with the bottle. My head tilts at her, and she changes the subject. “How do you stay in shape?” she asks me.

I look at her. “Did you ever have a boyfriend, or were you just fucking with me?” I wait a second for her to answer and then continue. “I work out five times a week,” I tell her, “but honestly, it’s good genes. I guess I can thank my parents for one thing.”

“You assumed I had a boyfriend, so I let you assume,” she tells me, then again changes the subject. “Well, I definitely didn’t inherit my mother’s boobs,” she says, laughing. “Actually, come to think of it, she is the opposite of me. She’s tall and curvy where I’m just tall and tall.”

I laugh and then look at her. “You know what they say when you assume something?” I ask her, and this conversation now has us tiptoeing around everything. “You make an ass out of you and me.” She laughs, and then my voice goes soft. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.” I tell her the truth. “And I’ve met a shit ton. But you, you have this easiness to you that brings you so up there that you’re untouchable.” She doesn’t say anything. She just stares at me. “Whether you’re wearing sweats or fancy ass shit, you just walk in, and everyone stops to look at you.” I put my knife down. “You’re stunning, Erin,” I say softly, and then I lean in and kiss her on the cheek, smelling the light citrus she has on. “Now, since you cooked, I will clean.” I smile at her. “Apparently, it’s a universal rule.”

“Um,” she says, pushing away from the table. “I think now is a good time to shower.” She turns and walks away, and I sit at the table a little longer, thinking about what I told her. About how I wanted to rub my nose on her cheek and then trail soft kisses down to her lips. To see if her eyes sparkle when my lips met hers.

It’s right then that I realize exactly how fucked I am . . . and that’s not in the good way.

Chapter Fourteen

Erin

“I think all this marketing for the movie is going great,” Sylvia says during our Skype call one week in. “I think we were even trending on Twitter, and Entertainment Hollywood is coming next week, I think Wednesday, to tour the set.”

“That sounds great,” I tell her as I sit in the trailer waiting for Carter to finish filming his scene. I’ve been awake since two thirty this morning, and it’s almost four p.m. “The movie’s Instagram page is up to twenty-five million.”

“That is incredible,” Sylvia says, and now she leans back in her chair. “And I have to say there have been no negative stories in the press, so you’re obviously doing your job.”

I nod my head. “It’s really hard to do all the sinful stuff when you’re on the set for fourteen hours a day. So my job has been a lot easier than I expected.”

“Well, from what I saw, you have tomorrow off, so sleep in and get some rest,” Sylvia says. “I’m here if you need me.”

“Thank you so much.” Disconnecting the call, I rub my hands over my face. I look around the trailer at the two vases of flowers on the table that I brought from home. When I walked into the house and saw all the flowers, I was in shock. Every single place I looked had flowers. And so many different colors. I knew then I had to up it and do something for him. Chicken parm was it, but holy shit, did I want to die.

“I’m done,” Carter says, walking into the trailer. “The car is already here, so if you can hurry, I would be so thankful.”

“I just have to grab my jacket,” I say, getting up and putting my computer in the Louis and then walking out. “Tired?” I ask him, and he just nods.

For the past week, it’s been routine for us to leave together in the morning. Breakfast together, lunch together, dinner together. Except yesterday when he wanted to eat in his bed, which I was totally okay with, but five minutes later, he came looking for me and said it was too quiet in his room. So he sat on my bed as I watched television. He ate his grilled chicken that we had delivered and then put it on the side table. He then closed his eyes, and I felt bad and didn’t want to tell him to get up, so I went under the covers and shut off the light. He stayed on his side of the bed, and when his alarm rang, he sprang out of bed. He didn’t mention falling asleep in my bed, and I didn’t mention it either. I guess if neither of us mentions it, it means it didn’t happen.