The Romeo Arrangement

“It’s none of my business but…you didn’t like acting?” she asks, eyes lit with curiosity.

These are the times when I wish they made foot removal kits for mouths.

“Yes and no. I mean, who wouldn’t love being a star? The praise, the money, the prestige, the creativity…it’s all fine and dandy for the ego stroke and sense of accomplishment. Real easy to get caught up in the high of your next film or a brand-new digit in your investment portfolio, but it’s also an ugly fuckin’ world.”

She blinks, taken aback at how I say it.

I don’t blame her.

“Picture a world with no privacy. The sleekest, sexiest human zoo you’ve ever imagined. Always somebody watching every step you take. Plenty of vultures circling, ready to pounce if your mistake is their gain.”

Shit, rambling doesn’t begin to cover this.

I’ve never opened up to anyone and played the world’s tiniest violin. Not even to Tobin.

But if it helps her open up and trust me, it’s worth it.

I’m not looking for sympathy. I’ve had a great life with luxuries and experiences most people can only dream of.

And honestly? It feels genuinely good to get a fraction of this toxic load off my chest.

“Ridge, I’m really, really sorry about those articles. The nasty things they said, always painting you like you’re some kind of crazy, broken person who just wanted to run away…it isn’t fair.”

I look up, surprised at the venom in her voice.

It’s rare when I hear someone genuinely angry.

Not at me, but for me.

I shrug. “I’ve had hot garbage written about me before a thousand times. You should’ve seen the time I showed up for my co-star’s birthday in the big Romeo and Juliet remake. Don’t know who the fuck was more embarrassed over the imminent wedding rumors, her or me.”

She laughs, her cheeks flushed sexy pink.

Goddamn.

Seeing Grace squirming in her seat over old gossip does terrible things to my cock.

“Good news is, I doubt Grendal has any clue how showbiz works. They’re hungry-ass lions in the media. You’d better keep the red meat coming or else they’ll move right on to the next big flap about who’s in rehab or what dress malfunctioned and exposed a shiny new boob job.”

“Maybe so.” Her smile fades. “But your privacy was really breached this time.”

I know, and I plan on calling Faulkner for an update as soon as she’s in bed.

Preferably several walls away from my case of blue balls, which is a subject I still need to broach. Not the smurf nuts, obviously, but keeping her here.

I take a few big bites of my sandwich, swallow, and then go to the stove where the cocoa’s just waiting for a splash of hot water, warm milk, my secret sauce, and a drizzled topping of chocolate sauce and shaved coconut.

Billionaire or not, I was raised right—I know to use both water and milk for the best damn cocoa this side of the Mississippi. Plus, I think Tobin would have a conniption fit if he caught me throwing it together any differently.

Sitting down next to her, I pick up my sandwich and finish the last few bites, urging her to do the same.

“Go ahead. Eat.” Nodding at the cup, I add, “And drink your ambrosia. I make a mean sandwich, but my hot chocolate blows panties into the stratosphere.”

She snorts and gives me a suspicious look. “Don’t tell me that’s how you pick up dates. I thought fame, riches, and good looks would beat a cocoa recipe any day?”

“Casanova never had Bavarian chocolate.” I pause, taking a pull off my water. “Hell, or maybe he did. I’m a better cook than a literary expert.”

Right now, there’s only one woman I’m aiming to please, and ironically, it’s to send her off to a bed I won’t even share.

She glances at the empty hot chocolate packets on the counter and lifts an eyebrow. Luxury brand or not, they come from Europe in these single-serve packages just like the stuff in the stores.

“Looks can be deceiving,” I say. “Trust me.”

Shrugging, she eats her sandwich and looks at me with a grin.

“Honestly, it doesn’t look like much when I pick it up but…it’s plenty tasty. Oh, and I like that it has a kick.”

I wink at her. “Hot sriracha-curry sauce mixed in the mayo. Tobin’s secret, passed down to me.”

Then she closes her eyes, bites into the last of it, and damn near kills me as I watch her devour my creation.

I pick up my hot chocolate. “Glad you like it. Cheers.”

She raises her cup, looking at me over the rim, and nods as she takes a long sip. Her brows loft as she takes a second swallow. “Um. Holy. Wow. This is just…effing delicious.”

I grin. “Told ya.”

“You’re a good liar.” Eyes still locked on me, she takes another drink. “No way this came out of those packets.”