Hollywood Prince (Hollywood Royalty 3)

I walk into the kitchen, looking for the chef. “Where is Riccardo?” I ask her, looking around for him.

“He finished what he had to do, and I told him he could go. I’ll serve us.” She gets up, going to the stove and grabbing the oven mitt to take the food out. “He made steak with a peppercorn sauce, some sweet potato mash, regular mash, and steamed asparagus.”

“It smells amazing,” I tell her, and my stomach makes a loud rumbling noise. “Where do you want to eat?”

“The dining room,” she says, and I nod at her. “Do you want one or two pieces of steak? He left us six pieces.”

“One for now,” I tell her, grabbing everything I can to set up the table. “If someone would have told me I would be staying in on a Saturday night, I would have asked if they were drunk,” I tell her, “but I have to admit it’s not that bad.”

“I can’t remember the last time I actually got super dressed up to go out.” She picks up the plates that she just finished making.

“There is a red carpet event next Saturday,” I tell her, thinking about it. “It’s this whole fundraiser.”

“How red carpet?” she asks me, and I look at her confused as she cuts into her steak. “Like red carpet Oscars or red carpet MTV awards?”

“I have to wear a tux, so I have no idea what category that falls into,” I tell her and cut my own piece of steak.

“Do you hate it?” She continues to ask me questions.

“I don’t hate it,” I tell her honestly, “but I don’t love it either.”

“We did the red carpet for the Tyler Beckett movie, and I swear it was the longest day of my life.”

“I was there,” I inform her. “I did arrive a touch late.”

“I know you were there,” she says, shaking her head. “You arrived with Roxanne and left with that reporter.”

I shrug my shoulders. “I have no idea.”

“How do you not know who you slept with and who you didn’t?” she asks me, and I just shrug.

“It’s just sex,” I tell her the truth. “Have you never had just sex?”

“No,” she answers, chewing. “I’ve had sex with five people my whole life, and with all of them, we were in a relationship.”

“Five people?” I ask in shock. “But you’re super-hot.”

She laughs. “Well, thank you, I guess.”

“I bet you can have any guy you want.” The thought of that makes me sick, and I drop my fork. It clangs on the plates, making her jump.

“Again, thank you, but I’m good,” she says, getting up and bringing her plate to the sink. She puts away the leftovers while I start the dishwasher.

“I’m going to bed,” I tell her. “All that fresh air has left me exhausted, plus we have a call time of six a.m.”

She nods her head, and I walk away from her. I force myself not to text her or go to her room, and I thought staying celibate for this contract assignment would be the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. It turns out, walking away from her has to be the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.

Chapter Sixteen

Erin

The alarm ringing makes me roll over and grab my phone, stretching along the way. I turn off the alarm and go back under the covers with the phone, taking one more minute to just chill. A knock on the door makes me open my eyes again. “Come in,” I say loudly, and the door handle turns, and the door opens. I see him bending down to pick up the coffee cup that he put on the floor.

“Morning,” he says and comes into the room, handing me a coffee cup.

“Morning,” I say, sitting up in bed and reaching out to take the cup from him. I bring it to my nose and inhale it. There is nothing like the smell of coffee in the morning. “You are up early.” I take a sip of the coffee and watch him.

“I woke up at three and couldn’t go back to sleep,” he says. “So I went to the gym downstairs and did my workout.” I shake my head, thinking about him all sweaty. “The car is going to be here in thirty minutes,” he tells me, and I just nod. He walks out, closing the door behind him with a click.

I get out of the bed and walk to the bathroom, starting the shower. I quickly shower and then apply just a touch of mascara when I get out. I curl the bottom of my hair, grab the coffee, and walk into the closet. I take the white and black checkered skirt and pull it over my hips. Grabbing the long-sleeved red silk shirt, I slip it over my head and tuck it in. The bell-shaped cuffs make it look fancy. I slip on the black sky-high Louboutins that will have my feet burning by tonight, but I can never say no to putting them on my feet, regardless of the pain and suffering I’ll endure. I’m such a shoe addict. Grabbing my bag and jacket, I walk out to tell him, “I’m ready.”