Bombshell (Hollywood A-List #1)

I found a security guard. He hurried over to me. I plastered a smile on my face and gave him Willow’s bag. “Can you make sure this young lady gets home?”


Willow didn’t say a word to me as she was led away. Good chance her driver was waiting at the bottom of the hill. She’d get home fine. I was going to have to call Ray and tell him what happened. I dreaded it. I dreaded talking to him and getting Willow in trouble. But she was still a child. She didn’t have any rights yet, and thank God for that. She wasn’t ready for them.

Now to deal with the other adolescent in my life. This one had his own house and a new daughter, and he was my boss.





CHAPTER 26


BRAD


“I don’t want anyone in this part of the house. Off-limits. If I find anyone but my daughter or her nannies back here . . .” Paula and the security guard waited for me to finish. I’d gotten the biggest, scariest-looking one to stand at the hall to Nicole’s room.

“You got it,” he said. “No problem.”

People had started arriving. Music had started playing, and I had a feeling I was going to regret this.

“The bombshell and the nannies are on their way back,” Paula said when we got to the kitchen. It was bare. One drawing stuck to the fridge. Me, Nicole, and Cara. Blakely was a little to the side. Nicole had written all the names on the top. I was so happy she could write them I nearly had the thing framed.

“Who’s on tonight?” I knew Cara was on because I counted the days, but sometimes they switched.

“The dark-haired one. It’ll be fine. Don’t you worry your head about it. I have it all under control.”

“Thank you, Paula. It means a lot to throw this party for Arnie. I couldn’t do it without you.”

She blushed a little. Sometimes I thought she still had it for me, and sometimes I thought I should just up and tell her it wasn’t going to happen. But I couldn’t afford to lose her. Couldn’t risk being right and shaming her into quitting or being wrong and offending her into walking out.

“You just have fun tonight.” She patted my chest. She was from the South. We touched each other. I didn’t think anything of it until that night when her fingers lingered a little too long.

“I’ll try.”

The script sat on the counter. I’d wanted Bangkok Brotherhood so bad a year ago I’d auditioned for it. I just wanted it. There hadn’t been any bad consequences to getting it. Only upside. Now I had a daughter and a schedule to keep. I had to be in Thailand prepared or, as Ken liked to remind me, I’d never work again.

I put the script in the silverware drawer and slapped it closed.

I needed to get back to the script when I was fresh, but in the morning I was going to get sidelined by calls and daily bullshit. Questions. Decisions. I’d seen three schools and in the end I was going to do exactly what Cara said I should have done in the first place. She was competent. I couldn’t say the same for myself. The enormity of my responsibility made me want to give it to someone else. At least when Nicole was out of the room. That was when I decided I wasn’t making another decision for or about her ever again. Then she showed up with those dimples and that sense of humor. Or she’d make a bratty demand, and I knew I could handle her because I figured it wasn’t so bad. The little crises like a bathing suit or a pair of shoes were kind of fun.

I kind of wanted to hang out with her more than I wanted to throw a party.

A little.

Maybe the party could go on, and Nicole and I could go get ice cream or something. I’d get back by the time stuff started rolling and—

“Mr. Daddy!” Britt Ravenor came in with a bottle in each hand and hugged me, landing big lipstick kisses all over my face. Her girlfriend piled on, and I forgot I wanted to hang out with my daughter.





CHAPTER 27


CARA


It wasn’t uncommon for an A-list actor or studio head to have staff constantly move in, out, and about the house. Housekeepers, assistants, cooks, nannies, and security moved around freely during assigned hours. But the party I walked into was beyond what I’d seen before. Too many people in the house. Too many bikini bottoms. Too many nipples. Too many drinks. What the hell was he thinking? The music was thumping the entire house.

Nicole and I hung out for a while building block towers and knocking them down. Doing a puzzle. Playing pretend princesses. I got her bathed and put to bed. Luckily, the swim had exhausted her. The party had become a low rumble. I didn’t realize the power of it until I got to the main part of the house. By then, I was white-hot, scanning the laughing, beautiful faces for Brad.

Waste of time. The man had his own magnetic field. He was talking to some stunning young girl with his bare foot on the coffee table. All smiles and charm, exposed legs, and tanned hand on a beer. Sunglasses flipped to the top of his head.

“Sinclair!”

I couldn’t have yelled louder, but he barely acknowledged me until I was two feet away. Then he looked over.

“Yeah?”

“What are you doing?”

The stunning young thing looked me up and down with an unmasked sneer. What a waste of a pretty face.

“Throwing a birthday party.” He shrugged.

I was dismissed.

I had no right to do what I did next. I was an employee. I was not the mother of his child, nor was I the head of the household. I was nobody. Infinitely replaceable. Exactly nothing. Stating my opinion of him, his action, his attitude was so far out of my contractual obligations that I expected to be thrown out as soon as I finished.

I pushed him. Literally.

“You’re an asshole.” I had a moment where I could have paused, or run away, or calmed myself. But he looked so stricken, I saw an opening, and in my anger I went right into it. “You should have given her up for adoption if this is what you’re going to do. Because I’ve seen this go down before. I’ve seen how this shakes out. You make this her normal and she’s going to be snorting coke by middle school. In Malibu. With a driver and a Prada bag, yeah, all that. And she’s not going to know where she ends and the paparazzi begin. She’s going to be a target for the media unless you protect her. You’re the only one between her and . . .” And what? Getting pawed at by an older guy behind the hedge? “Look at you! Look at you!”

I could have said it ten more times.

We’d earned an audience, and though the music hadn’t stopped, all conversation had. Paula stepped between us, facing me, and held her arms out.

“We’re all going to take a deep breath and—”

“You want to look at me?” Brad shouted past Paula as he slapped his beer on the coffee table.

“Look at how you’re acting!” I leaned around Paula, even as she shifted to block me. “You have a child in the other room.”

He unbuttoned his pants. When everyone gasped, she turned and saw him over her shoulder.

“Bradley!” Paula scolded. “Do not—”

“Get a good look!”