The Romeo Arrangement

“Breaking news: she’s dead,” he says coldly.

Again, I shiver, tucking my arms around me.

“And who was there to get you through it when she died?” Bebe jabs a thumb at her chest. “Me. That’s who. I’m the only person you’ve ever been able to count on! When you ran off, joined the Army, who covered your stupid ass? Me! That night, when the cops wanted to talk to you, who had a pretty little alibi waiting for you, Prince Charming? You guessed it—me!”

Alibi? Cops?

My insides go cold.

The world starts spinning.

Sure, police could mean anything, but I have this dread building.

Whatever happened was serious and somehow just…dirty.

Ridge turns, casting his stormy gaze. I feel like I’m shrinking into the floor.

I don’t understand that look. I’m too afraid.

I can’t connect with the pain, the agony, the brute plea in his dark pupils screaming, Grace, wait!

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I say, “So, I…I think you two need some privacy. Excuse me.”

Without waiting for a response, I pivot around and practically run down the hall.

14

No Grand Scheme (Ridge)

To no one’s surprise, I’ve officially hit my fucking limit on drama.

The frustrated growl I’d been holding in damn near shakes the room. It’s not because the slick, mouthy, all too catlike woman in front of me ever said anything wrong.

It’s because Bebe Silk—goddamn her—is absolutely right.

She was there for me all of those times. Second only to Tobin in helping ensure I didn’t drown in my own bad decisions.

I’m right, too. She’d done it for the money. I was her biggest workhorse.

Even now, I think she’d take a bullet for me if it meant getting my ass to agree to one more film and a cool seven-figure payoff.

Anything to keep her in designer shoes, imported wines, and a new addition for her castle outside Huntington Beach.

I try to swallow my hot anger without choking on puffed up pride.

“Let’s go. Right now,” I bite off, waving a hand, marching her straight to my office without explanation.

Since she’s already poisoned my day, we’re going to settle this now. Then I’m going to send her packing, even if I have to personally drag her to the nearest airstrip and throw her on a plane.

Bebe walks in first, dark amusement lashing her eyes.

Of course she’s enjoying this.

Of-fucking-course.

Closing the door, I walk over and sit down at my desk, pushing my hands out farther than they really need to be, blocking her from any dumb ideas. I swear to fuck, if this woman tries to sit on my desk…

The worst part is, she’d picked a great time to interrupt.

I’d been down here talking to Faulk, checking up on his intel, when the sensor at the end of the driveway pinged me with an unexpected visitor. The camera down there snapped a clear picture of who it was, and truthfully, seeing it was Bebe hadn’t surprised me.

I should’ve heeded Tobin’s warning and called her back.

“Well? What’s really going on here, Ridge?” she asks, plopping all four-foot something of herself into the chair across from me.

I hold in a sigh of relief.

“I’m engaged to Grace Sellers,” I say. “End of story.”

“Bullshit.” She shakes her head like she’s trying to get something out of those fiery-red ripples.

I shrug. “That’s my story and I’m sticking to it, lady.”

“You know, for an A-lister, you’re not very original. Didn’t any of those scripts rub off? Some of them had damn good writers behind them. That line is so old it wouldn’t work on my grandmother.”

“What if I need it to work?” I ask, staring her down.

“Why?” She frowns, rubbing her chin with inch-long red fingernails.

“No.” I shake my head. “You don’t deserve that. Not after you barged in here and had to self-insert into my business again.”

“Let’s cut the crap, Barnet.” She looks me in the eye. “You’re in trouble again. I knew it as soon as those trashy tabloids and gossip blogs started shouting your name from the rooftops. And that freak on the phone? My Gawd, I’ve heard better big shot mafioso threats in auditions. Just tell me what’s really going on and we’ll—”

“No. Not this time,” I whisper.

“Is this still about him? I know you must’ve heard…Linus Hammond died a few months ago,” she says.

Good.

That soulless maggot spawned straight from hell deserved a return trip there years ago.

“Yeah. I know. Got your message,” I grind out.

“Oh, cute. A reply would’ve been nice.” She sighs. “His death was purely natural. It had nothing to do with your disagreement…if your disagreement ever escalated that far, wink wink.” She motions like she’s zipping her bright-pink lips.

I stare daggers, wondering if this is the day she starts threatening me.

Blackmailing me with a heinous secret only known to her and Tobin.

There’s no telling if anything is truly beneath this woman.

“I know that, too,” I snap. “What’s your point?”