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Hollywood Playboy (Hollywood Royalty 1)

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“I’m sure you’ll be fine.” I smile at her; we finally land and make our way off the plane. Cassie is waiting for me at the bottom of the plane steps.

“Your car is waiting,” she says, and I don’t have a chance to tell Jessica where I’m going. Every time I wanted to on the plane, someone was close by.

“Thanks,” I say, walking toward the black Escalade waiting for me. “Text me the address and time for tomorrow.”

“Oh,” she says, “I thought I was coming over since your place has three bedrooms.”

“Um.” I have no idea what to say. She usually stays with me, and I never thought anything of it. The only thing that ran through my mind was Jessica and me at ease. “Sure,” I say, taking a deep breath and getting into the SUV.

“Also,” she says, “I had everything set up at the house. And the plane is waiting for you the second you walk off the red carpet in LA,” she says. “This time in four days, you’ll be on your ranch.”

“Sounds great,” I say, looking out the window at everyone else filing on the bus. The traffic getting to my loft in SoHo is insane. “There is a reason I don’t live here full-time,” I say, getting out of the car.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Cassie says, and I make my way inside to my loft. It’s in an old newspaper building, and I bought two of the six floors when it was empty. I made one floor a huge living area with a game room, kitchen, living room, and office, and then upstairs are three bedrooms and three bathrooms. I left the exposed beams when we started, so everything is rustic. In the middle of the dining table is a huge basket of fruit and chocolate.

I set my bag and phone on the counter, then bring both my bag and Cassie’s upstairs. I toss my bag on the floor, going to the window that overlooks the river. I look at the boats in the distance, thinking how great it would be for Jessica to be here. I head back downstairs and grab my phone. “I’m going to go relax,” I tell Cassie, who is sitting at the table on her computer and just nods at me.

Walking into my bedroom, I shut the door and text Jessica.

Me: Call me when you can.

I put my phone on my stomach, grab the remote, and turn on the television. I’m flipping through the channels when my phone finally starts ringing. “Hey,” I answer quietly.

“Hey,” she says, and then I hear rustling. “Where are you?”

“I’m at my loft in SoHo,” I tell her, muting the television. “I thought it would be a good place to be without the peering eyes.”

She laughs, and I miss her. “Is that your way of saying you want me to come over?”

“I would love it, but . . .” I try not to let it bother me. “Cassie is here.”

“Oh,” she says softly, “well then, that settles that.” She laughs. “It’s fine. I’ll work on my articles and just see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I guess,” I say, and it’s almost like I’m pouting.

“It’s twenty-four hours. You’ll survive,” she says. “Call me later.” She disconnects. The rest of the night is spent in my room, and I only go out to grab a bite to eat. Cassie is in the guest bedroom, and when I call Jessica, it’s a two-minute phone call since she’s on the phone with one of her best friends. I go to bed that night and toss and turn.

The next morning, I’m itching to get to the hotel. I’m down before Cassie is and ready at the door when the car gets there.

“What’s the rush, Tyler? We have a long day and don’t have to be there for a while.”

“I just want to get there a little early, that’s all.” I load our luggage with the driver since we are taking off right after the premiere tonight and almost run into the hotel when we get there, walking into the press room where everyone is standing. Jessica stands with Autumn, and she’s dressed in black pants and a pink top with long sleeves. Her hair is tied at the back of her neck. She sees me finally, and I smile.

I don’t even see or notice everyone else’s phones going off around me, almost in sync, including my own. Everything from that moment on, happens in slow motion. Jessica looks down at her phone along with everyone else, and then the color in her face drains. One of her hands comes up to her chest as if she’s in pain, and I look around the room at the other journalists, each of their eyes coming up from their phones and looking directly at me. I’m not sure what’s going on until I pick up my own phone . . . and then I know.


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