The Romeo Arrangement

“Wow. It sounds stressful.”

“That’s the trouble,” he says darkly. “The pressure became the norm, the only life I knew.”

“And Tobin?” I ask, too curious not to.

“He was my mom’s valet originally, and always too regal to settle for the term ‘butler.’ She couldn’t leave me home alone all the time while she was off filming or meeting very important people, so Tobin looked after me when I was young. Then when I hit my teens, he became my guy full time—another fun thing about being Hollywood royalty. Most kids hit a certain age and can’t wait to have their own lives. I got tied down with a glorified babysitter, who’d gladly report back to Mom if I snuck out with my friends twenty minutes too long.”

I smile. “It must’ve been hell on dating.”

“Yeah, just a little.” Ridge snorts, a smirk on his lips. “I got lucky he looked the other way one time when a box of condoms fell out of my backpack. He’s not all bad, though. I’m thirty-three and still keeping him around…more for his benefit than mine. But even now, sometimes I appreciate when he saves me from my own dumb ass. Sometimes.”

The warmth of his hand sends lightning up my arm.

I should pull away, but I can’t.

“How old were you?”

“Fifteen.” He huffs out a laugh. “By the time I was sixteen, I decided I didn’t much like school either. So I made peace with acting. Started to put some real effort into it, not just going through the motions. It rubbed off on my studies so I could graduate…no thanks to Tobin again.”

“Oh? That good a teacher?”

“I hated the fuck out of history. Flunked every test in my life until junior year,” he says with a scowl. “I’m older and wiser now, and appreciate the past, but it took Tobin screwing my head on straight. He managed to get me interested with his books on trench warfare and heads getting hacked in the French revolution. By senior year, he’d rapped me over the knuckles enough times to get me writing essays on Tom Paine and Teddy Roosevelt…and enjoying it.”

Hilarious. I can almost see a younger Tobin fussing over Ridge with his Peter Pan good looks back in his teens.

I’d read a lot about his career online, especially all the films he’d been in as a child star. I’d even watched a few clips on YouTube, scenes from old movies I haven’t seen in years.

“How long were you in the Army?”

“Four years of active duty, one more in the reserves. I would’ve re-upped for active duty, but a bullet to the leg put me out of commission. Not bad enough to screw me over permanently. I could’ve come back, but Mom…it wasn’t fair to her anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“She hated having a son in the military and the constant worry that came with it. She thought it was too dangerous, especially when I came home for the last time with a purple heart. I had all sorts of people trying to get my time cut short when Judy Barnet put in the word. Congressman, the governor, it was goddamn embarrassing. So after my second tour was up, I discharged honorably.”

I still feel like there’s a cloud over him, something he’s holding back.

And that explosive exchange with Bebe Silk hinted at a lot more going on with his mother.

But his eyes are dark, distant, and it’s not the time to pry answers out of him.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

I feel for him.

It’s odd how easily a person thinks Prince Charming must have it all, yet never really knows what he went through. Even with a famous mother—which sounds almost as difficult as having a father who got mixed up with an ugly business—life wasn’t set on easy.

He flashes me one of those sexy smiles to die for. “Don’t be sorry. It was my choice to leave and take back control of my life.”

“What did you do then?”

“Went right back to acting after finishing my reserve duties on the side,” he says.

“And became a blockbuster hit,” I remind him.

“Only a few of my last movies were that big, but it was mostly the timing, the market interest. They weren’t any better than some of the others, they just resonated with audiences and took off. Then my mother died and it…threw my shit for a loop, let’s say. I’m sure you looked up my last two films. Turns out, people love Dane Barnet the actor a thousand times more than Barnet the producer.”

My fingers thread deeper through his, our palms touching, and I tighten my hold on his hand. “How did she die? I’ve seen so many articles, but I’m curious…if it’s not too personal.”

“Suicide.”

Boom. Point-blank. He doesn’t even hesitate.

“Oh, God.” My heart stops. “Oh, Ridge, I’m so sorry.”

He shakes his head, those blue eyes flaring in the darkness.