Caught in the Spotlight
Jules Bennett
About the Author
JULES BENNETT’s love of storytelling started when she would get in trouble as a child and would tell her parents her imaginary friend Mimi did it. Since then, her vivid imagination has taken her down a path she’d only dreamed of.
When Jules isn’t spending time with her wonderful supportive husband and two daughters, you will find her reading her favorite authors. Though she calls that time “research.” She loves to hear from readers! Contact her at authorjules@gmail.com, visit her website at www.julesbennett.com or send her a letter at PO Box 396, Minford, OH 45653, USA. You can also visit her fan page on Facebook or follow her on Twitter (@Jules-Bennett).
Caught
in the
Spotlight
Jules Bennett
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
One
When a dripping-wet female yelled his name, Bronson Dane didn’t even try to stop his eyes from roaming over all of her.
With only a short white towel covering her glistening dark, Italian skin, his mother’s personal assistant of only six months certainly knew how to catch a man’s attention.
“Mr. Dane,” she repeated, clutching the towel to her chest with both hands. She’d stopped short as she’d stepped from the bath when she saw him standing at the desk in his mother’s adjoining office.
“Formalities are unnecessary when you’re only wearing water droplets and a towel. Call me Bronson.” He shoved his hands in his pants pockets, thankful he’d shed his jacket because, damn, the temperature just rose at least ten degrees. “Where is my mother and why are you showering in her private bath?”
Wide eyes, nearly as dark as her ebony hair, blinked in rapid succession. “Olivia is gone for the day. I often use the gym, and since I’m working this afternoon, she told me just to freshen up here instead of running back to my guest cottage.”
Bronson muttered a curse at his naive mother. It was bad enough Mia Spinelli lived on the Dane estate, but now she was given free rein of the house? Hadn’t his mother learned her lesson from the last “loyal” assistant? When would the woman realize she couldn’t trust everyone who looked innocent?
This was Hollywood, for pity’s sake. Lies and manipulation were as common as breast implants and collagen injections.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Dane. I had no idea anyone would be coming by,” Mia continued, squaring her shoulders as if having a conversation wearing only a scrap of terry cloth was normal. “Weren’t you supposed to be shooting in Australia until next week?”
“Call me Bronson,” he reminded her, gritting his teeth at the floral aroma wafting from the bathroom. “The movie wrapped a week early. I stopped by to talk to my mother about the film festival next week. Did she say when she’d be back?”
“She’ll be back later in the afternoon. She’s having lunch with her attorney to go over the final contract for her next book.” The knuckles on the hand fisting her towel between her breasts turned white as she crossed the room. “If you’ll excuse me, I dropped my toiletry bag on the desk chair when I came in because the phone was ringing.”
Before she could pass by him, he blocked her and reached for the simple black bag from the leather desk chair. She grabbed for it, but he held the small bag out to the side, away from her grasp.
He didn’t trust her, especially since she’d just come off the heels of working for the one man he despised in the industry, Anthony Price. He loathed the man with every fiber of his being. But he certainly didn’t want to think about all those reasons now.
His mother had assured him that Mia was “a doll” and completely trustworthy and dependable. His sister, Victoria, had jumped on the Mia bandwagon as well, stating that Mia was such a joy and pleasure to be around. When they’d chatted on the phone last, Victoria had gone so far as to say that she’d instantly clicked with their mother’s new assistant.
Granted, Mia had been around for six months, but was that enough time for his mother and sister to be such diehard Mia Spinelli fans?
Bronson wasn’t blind, though. Anthony sending his assistant here to snoop was really sinking to a low he never expected.
The rumors of Mia and Anthony’s relationship were anything but businesslike. And that irked him even more. The fact his mother had hired Mia while he’d been on location in Australia still grated on him. True, his mother could have any assistant she chose, but why bring in one fresh from his nemesis?
The Hollywood rumor mill had pegged the mesmerizing Mia as the main problem in Anthony’s rocky marriage. Whom Mia slept with was none of his concern, but it was his business if she was taking Dane family secrets back to her lover.
Bronson and his mother were secretly working on a huge film that he knew the media would die to get their hands on. He and his mother had worked for years honing this project, and he had no doubt Anthony Price, Hollywood’s top director, wanted to know just what the big secret was.
Just because his mother wasn’t suspicious didn’t mean he’d be letting his guard down any time soon.
Bronson intended to find out just what this conveniently placed assistant’s intentions were before she uncovered the script and slid back in between Anthony’s sheets with it in hand. The thought of this sexy siren in bed with the devil made his stomach knot up.
He thrust the bag her way because he needed her to get dressed. Whether he trusted her or not had no bearing on matters; she was fresh from the shower smelling of something sexy and floral—her own because that certainly wasn’t his mother’s scent—and he was having a hard time focusing on the task at hand.
Not to mention that he was not one bit happy with the immediate physical attraction he felt to his enemy’s lover.
“Get dressed. We’ll talk.”
With a slight nod, she turned, crossed the room and entered the still-steamy bath, shutting the door at her back. He had no room on his plate for lustful feelings, and he was a damn fool for even letting them creep into his thoughts. His main concern right now was to keep his mother and his fashion designer sister out of any more scandal.
His mother’s last assistant had stolen nearly half a million dollars from Olivia’s personal account over the span of several months. The media loved feeding off the Dane name right now, which is why they needed to be a bit more cautious about whom they let into their lives—especially if he had any hopes of keeping this script under wraps.
Was it any wonder his blood pressure had soared since he stepped into his mother’s office? Olivia Dane was an icon, and the media would love to get some dirt on her—though he doubted there was any. They had a way of twisting even the innocent to make them look sordid.
Olivia Dane had been Hollywood’s sweetheart, had starred in more films than any other female in the industry and had been dubbed the “Grand Dane” years ago. The media loved her. Which is precisely why he needed to keep a close watch on her new assistant.
The bathroom door opened once again and Mia emerged wearing crisp white capris and a black, sleeveless button-down shirt. She had twisted her long dark hair into some sort of knot at the nape of her neck. Her feet were still bare, except for the subtle pink polish on her toes. A simple gold locket lay in the open V of her shirt.
Everything about this woman screamed innocence and simplicity, so how the hell did she end up working for the most glamorous woman in Hollywood?
Olivia had told him how impeccable Mia’s credentials were and Mia’s reasons for leaving her job with Anthony. Supposedly she didn’t want to be the cause of any more rumors and aid in destroying Anthony’s marriage.
His mother had said she admired a woman who put others’ needs ahead of her own. She assured him the background check also confirmed her initial thoughts—Mia was flawless and perfect for the job.
A background check could easily make a person look good on paper, and Mia had certainly appeared to be innocent as an angel, but Bronson wanted to get to know more about the quiet, subtle Miss Spinelli. The one who, no matter what line she fed his mother, still may be sleeping with—and possibly spying for—his enemy.
And fate had just handed him the perfect opportunity. What better way to get to know someone than a little one-on-one time? With the exotic, sexy ambiance of the Cannes Film Festival next week, how could she resist succumbing to his charms as his escort? He hadn’t been dubbed People’s Sexiest Man Alive for nothing.
“I have a proposition for you,” he told her. “You’re traveling to Cannes with my mother. Correct?”
Mia nodded.
“There are ceremonies every evening with parties afterward. I want you to escort me to those events.”
“Escort you?” she asked, eyes wide. “But I’m only going to work with Olivia, and I hadn’t planned on attending any of the evenings’ festivities.”
He hadn’t planned on asking her to be his escort, but he also hadn’t planned on his first impression of her covered in iridescent droplets and wearing nothing but a piece of terry cloth. God knows he could invite any woman he knew, but he really didn’t want to have to entertain and make sure some diva was properly pampered. This woman, this virtual stranger, would be the ideal companion. He’d been on location nearly the entire time she’d been employed by his mother. He couldn’t think of a better venue to get to know Mia than to have her as his “date” for five nights in a row.
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Mia said, taking a seat behind his mother’s desk and booting up the computer. “I’m pretty busy with Olivia, and I know we’ll be working just as hard in Cannes because she’s trying to finish this book by midsummer.”
Bronson stood on the other side of the desk, watching Mia’s delicate, ringless fingers fly over the keyboard. “I assure you, my mother will have no problem with your being my escort. You just worry about getting to the plane on time and packing light. I’ll have Victoria ship all the dresses you’ll need. She’s a whiz in a pinch.”
She looked up from the screen, licking her naked lips. “But why me?”
“Why not you?” he countered, liking this idea more and more.
“I’m just an assistant.”
Bronson shrugged. “All the more reason. Unless you don’t want to be seen with me because of your recent scandal with your previous employer.” He leaned in close and whispered, “Or you have a jealous lover.”
Mia’s eyes widened. “I can’t believe that out of all the women you know, you’d want to take me.”
Her swift dodge of his question wasn’t very subtle, but he’d let it pass. For now.
“I won’t lie.” Leaning on his palms on the edge of the mahogany desk, Bronson offered a crooked grin and eased back just a bit so he didn’t seem too overbearing. “I’m protective of my mother. I’m using this as a prime opportunity to get to know you better.”
A sinful, beautiful smile spread across her face. “I understand being protective about family. In that case, I’d love to attend with you, as long as Olivia doesn’t mind.”
Bronson stood straight up and returned her smile. “She won’t. Trust me.”
Trust me.
It had been four days since Bronson had flashed his sexy smile and charmed her into turning her working trip into something more social.
And she should’ve flat-out told him no. He wouldn’t have asked her to attend parties and ceremonies with him, and he sure as hell wouldn’t have asked her to trust him, if he knew the secret she held. A secret that would ruin his family’s tight bond.
Mia shook the guilt off and concentrated on her immediate mission: she was in Cannes and she was going to be waltzing into glamorous events on the arm of Hollywood’s sexiest bachelor. She had to look better than her best.
Which shouldn’t be a problem. Looking back at her were five—yes, five—glamorous Victoria Dane original designs. Mia took a step back in her luxurious suite, unable to catch her breath. Olivia had told her that Victoria always kept multiple designs on hand for any star who needed a dress last minute.
Cinderella and her fairy godmother had nothing on Mia and this amazing array of glitzy dresses.
She had to keep reminding herself that she was just an assistant, but Mia certainly felt like a star as she spun in a little-girl-like circle, giddiness overwhelming her.
Was this really happening? Was she really in Cannes working for Olivia Dane by day, dressing up in a Victoria Dane gown at night and mingling with celebrities on the arm of hotshot producer Bronson Dane? Did she hit the job jackpot or what?
She and Olivia had worked a couple hours on the long flight over and Olivia had given Mia the rest of the day off. Of course, Mia figured Olivia was shopping at all the specialty shops.
Mia smiled as she recalled how surprised, yet excited Olivia was when she’d learned Mia was escorting Bronson to the parties and awards ceremonies. The Grand Dane had smiled, clasped her jeweled fingers together and said, “Wonderful.”
Everything about working for the Grand Dane was incredible. Mia had been scared to leave Anthony at first, but now she knew this was the best decision for everyone. She’d come to love him like family—though not in the way the family-wrecking tabloids had portrayed their relationship. She hoped he could put his marriage back together.
Mia’s heart ached for Anthony. Never once had their relationship turned intimate, but the tabloids assumed and printed the worst, in turn hurting his wife. Yes, they’d spent a lot of time together, but they were always working.
Mia knew Olivia believed her, but what about Bronson? Did he also assume the worst about her? More than likely. There was no love lost between the two Hollywood big shots, which meant he probably believed the rumors. He’d already implied as much.
Hopefully, her actions would win his trust in time. He’d had his fair share of scandal in the media. Surely he didn’t believe everything he heard or read. Hollywood certainly wasn’t known for honesty.
And she’d never expected anything like this when she’d come to work for Olivia. When she’d been employed by Anthony, she’d traveled with him to film sites, but never, ever to a glamorous film festival. And here she was in Cannes. Just the trip itself was thrilling, but adding all the extras on top of that was fabulous.
First, she’d expected a simple room, not a suite, and she never, in her wildest dreams, thought she’d be treated like a princess when she was just … an assistant. But she’d take this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and not question the whys.
With a delicate touch, because God knew she’d never be able to cover the expense of just one of these dresses, even though her pay was very generous, she looked over the gowns as she envisioned dancing the night away in each one.
Spending money on clothes was not a priority in Mia’s life, unlike many women who lived in Hollywood. But she certainly wouldn’t turn down the opportunity to wear these classy, elegant designs.
Would she be dancing with Bronson all night? Would her body press against his as they swayed? She’d be lying to herself if she pretended she hadn’t thought of being close to him, feeling his arms around her.
More than likely he had a whole slew of women who danced with him at such events, but he’d chosen her to escort him. What did that mean? And he’d gone to the trouble of getting his sister involved. Did he just want to get to know her better, as he’d said? She could understand that, but somewhere deep inside she thought he must find her attractive or he wouldn’t have asked her to accompany him every single night.
The memory of his eyes taking in her bare skin when he’d caught her coming out of the shower had her body humming. She wasn’t vain, but she also wasn’t stupid. Bronson hadn’t been immune to the fact she’d been pretty much naked.
Reality check.
To think that Bronson Dane found her attractive sounded absurd, even in her own head. He worked with movie starlets, dated models and had literally seen women who exemplified perfection in the flesh. He’d even been engaged to a stunning makeup artist. But still, his eyes had widened on seeing her, and the muscle had ticked in his jaw. Her body heated again when she recalled how close they’d been as he’d held her bag away from her. He’d smelled so … masculine, powerful. Sexy.
Mia pulled the short, black, chiffon dress from the closet and held it in front of her as she turned to the full-length mirror. This would be for the first party. All the dresses were gorgeous, but this one—this would make the biggest impact. She wanted Bronson’s first impression of her in Cannes to be memorable.
The simplicity of the black gown and her black hair would complement each other and hopefully help her blend in with the rich and famous. She certainly didn’t want to be an embarrassment on Bronson’s arm. She may have immature thoughts, but she wanted him to notice her as more than his mother’s assistant.
Nerves danced around in her belly. How could she even compare to the arm candy Bronson normally had draped over him?
A laugh escaped her as she hung the dress back up. Had she just compared herself to arm candy? She wasn’t here to try to win Bronson over as her boyfriend or even her lover … but that didn’t stop her from wishing to be noticed by Hollywood’s sexiest bachelor. What woman wouldn’t want to be desired by such a strong, powerful man who ranked his loving family at the top of his priority list? There wasn’t a woman alive who wouldn’t want to be part of his inner circle.
But amid the excitement and arousal, guilt gnawed away at Mia as she pulled another dress from the closet. How could she take so much from this family when she knew a secret that could very well destroy their perfect happiness?
Unfortunately, the secret wasn’t hers to reveal. And since she had come to care about all the key players, she felt torn between her loyalty to her former employer and her loyalty to her current employer.
Right now all she could do was keep her own counsel and enjoy herself in one of the most exotic, memorable places on earth. Borrowing trouble that was utterly out of her hands wouldn’t help ease the guilt or make the nearly forty-year-old secret disappear.
Mia’s cell rang, breaking into her thoughts. She pulled her phone from her pocket and hit the Talk button.
“Hello?”
“I trust you found the dresses to your satisfaction.”
Mia’s gaze traveled back to the open closet. “Yes, Bronson, they’re gorgeous. I could never thank you or Victoria enough.”
“And the jewelry is all to your liking?” he asked. “If not, I can call the jeweler and have some pieces traded out.”
Mia’s eyes went to the dresser where velvet boxes were stacked. She hadn’t even opened them, but she knew the contents were surely more glamorous than anything she’d ever seen.
She fingered the simple locket around her neck. “Everything is more than I’d hoped for. Thank you.”
“Tonight’s viewing begins at seven-thirty,” he went on. “We have to be on the red carpet by quarter to seven, so I’ll meet you down in the lobby by the elevator at six-thirty.”
Without another word, he hung up. Mia didn’t quite know what to make of his abruptness. On the jet en route to Cannes he’d made idle chitchat—nothing personal. At times she’d feel someone staring at her and turn to see those crystal-blue eyes on her as if he were just as intrigued with her as she was with him—at least, she liked to think that was the reason. And when she caught him, he didn’t even pretend that he hadn’t been studying her. But why would a strong, powerful playboy be shy or coy? He could have any woman he wanted, and that woman would gladly follow those endless baby blues anywhere. She was no exception.
She was finding, in the few encounters she’d had with Bronson, that he was a hard man to get to know, especially when he delivered a twenty-second phone call that was straight and to the point and hung up before she could even ask a question.
Mia sighed as she padded to the bath. A nice, long bubble bath would do her nerves some good. With Olivia out shopping with some friends for the day, Mia could just relax.
Or as much as she could relax with a damning secret preying on her mind. She’d had nothing but high hopes when she’d accepted this job as assistant to the Grand Dane of Hollywood. But then she’d accepted the position nearly a week before learning Olivia’s best-kept secret. If only she’d left Anthony sooner and not worked during her two weeks’ notice, she wouldn’t have this guilt weighing on her.
So many times over the last six months she wished she didn’t know the secret. Then maybe her job wouldn’t be so difficult. But she did know. And eventually the truth would come out and damage Hollywood’s most beloved family. The Danes.
All this secrecy bubbling inside her forced her mind back to another time, another secret that had hurt those she loved.
Her mother had once asked her to keep a secret, but at the tender age of five, Mia didn’t think that meant to keep it from her father. Ultimately, the truth tore her family apart, taking the lives of her parents and sending Mia into a long line of foster homes. And even after twenty-five years, the guilt and heartache that followed her, haunted her, was just as strong and powerful as ever.
She knew she needed to keep this secret. No way would she cause another disaster. And this explosion she could see coming. She would keep this secret out of loyalty to a friend and respect to the key players.
After pouring an enormous amount of jasmine-scented bubblebath into the running water, Mia stepped into the round, sunken tub with a one-way window overlooking a lavish garden. She settled down into the skin-tingling hot water and sighed as she looked out the glass.
What would Bronson think once he saw her tonight? Would he be disappointed? Would he be attracted? Anthony had reminded her about Bronson’s playboy style. He’d warned her not to get involved or, worse, attached to a man who was known for the revolving door in his bedroom.
Even though she’d worked for Anthony for three years, she’d never once seen Anthony and Bronson in the same room. She’d certainly seen the tabloids showcasing the bitterness between the two Hollywood powerhouses, but anytime she questioned Anthony about it, he’d laugh it off. He was always joking, always carefree. The very opposite of Bronson.
But the tabloids’ speculation about their alleged affair was no laughing matter. Neither she nor Anthony found the assumptions amusing. She’d seen firsthand the destruction a photo and boldface caption could cause.
She was eternally grateful that Olivia had given her a chance, and believed in her ability to do her job, and not focused on what the rumor mill portrayed her as—a liar.
And now she was in Cannes getting ready for one of the largest film festivals in the world.
With excitement and curiosity spiraling through her, Mia slid a handful of hot bubbles up over her shoulders. She only hoped the two men didn’t get into another verbal altercation. The press was always so greedy when it came to pictures of the two most powerful men in movies having a public disagreement.
There had to be a way to bridge the hatred between Bronson and Anthony, and with her current position she could be that link. Because once Bronson learned that Anthony was the child Olivia had given up for adoption nearly forty years ago, he’d have even more hatred for the man than he did now.
She hadn’t been able to save her own family, but maybe, just maybe, she could bring this family together.
Two
Bronson’s breath caught. He knew his mouth had dropped open, but nothing could pull his gaze from the sight coming toward him.
He hadn’t thought it possible, but as Mia walked toward him in a Victoria Dane original, she looked even sexier than she had in just a towel.
Mia wore his sister’s design as if she’d been made to model the one-of-a-kind dress on a runway in Milan or Paris. Or as if she’d been made to torture unsuspecting men like him.
He’d been feeling guilty about not picking her up at her suite, and now he knew that was a wise decision because there were very few steps from the door to the bed.
“I have to say, it’s not often I’m speechless.” Bronson lifted Mia’s slender hand to his lips. “I’m glad you’re going in on my arm.”
Mia offered a sexy, confident smile. “Well, that makes two of us.”
If this were any woman other than his mother’s assistant, an assistant he still had serious doubts about, Bronson could’ve talked her out of that thin, flowy dress in a matter of seconds. And, who knows, he still could get her out of that dress. They were here for nearly a week, and this was only the first night. After all, he did need to spend some one-on-one time with her, didn’t he?
Damn if she wouldn’t be turning some heads tonight. Jealousy stabbed him in the chest. What did he care that men looked? So long as they didn’t touch. For now, she was his. Anthony’s loss made this seduction all the more enjoyable.
“Shall we?” he asked, slipping her arm through his.
She fit against him as they walked through the open lobby toward the glow of the sunset streaming in the etched-glass doors. Her heels clicked against the marble floor, the jasmine scent he’d associated with her wafting around him. Everything about her mocked him. He wanted her, but he didn’t trust her. His emotions were all jumbled because of this intriguing woman, and he didn’t like this lack of control. That in itself should make him dislike her, but she oozed sex appeal and confidence, and Bronson knew he would have her before the week’s end.
When they reached the door, he placed a hand on the small of her back to escort her out … and encountered bare skin. If he thought she was sexy from the front with that low cowl-neck design that enhanced her perfect breasts, she was sinful from the back with the chiffon draping as low as legally possible without being indecent.
A sexy back got him every time. Of course, he was beginning to think every physical attribute of this Italian beauty got to him. Great. Just what he needed, an out-of-control libido to hinder his judgment about this woman … as if he weren’t having enough issues with that. The fact she may have slept with his enemy should have been enough to turn him off. But damn if he wasn’t stubborn and all the more defiant when he saw something, or someone, he wanted.
He had to hand it to his sister. When she’d picked the dress, she’d nailed the style that accentuated Mia’s height, curves and sensual features. That’s why Victoria was so sought after by every star in America—and why men were sent reeling by the women who wore the designs.
“Victoria sure knows how to make a woman feel pretty,” Mia told him, seeming to read his mind as they walked beneath a canopy of lush palms and thick foliage beside the water’s edge that led toward the red carpet. “I have to admit, I tried on every single one of those dresses. They’re all my favorite.”
Bronson hadn’t removed his hand from her back and he didn’t intend to. She was too soft, too feminine, too … everything.
The perfect spy for Anthony.
“Victoria knows how to make beautiful women look even more breathtaking.”
Mia’s gaze shot to his. “Thank you.”
He stepped in front of her just before they reached the area with the camera flashes of the paparazzi and the red carpet. “I should be thanking you,” he told her, then bent to whisper in her ear, “Because of you, I’ll be the envy of every man here tonight.”
A soft, visible shudder produced a shaky smile. “I doubt that, but thank you again.”
She was serious. Most women in Hollywood loved showing off their bodies … God knows they’d paid enough for their enhancements. But as he studied Mia’s dark, sultry eyes, he realized she was the minority. She may have trembled at his words, but she didn’t believe him.
That was just fine, since he was still leery of her, as well. But he would uncover the true Mia soon enough. And if uncovering her from that wispy black dress was involved, well, that wouldn’t be a hardship.
Anything to stick close to the alluring Mia Spinelli.
Flashes of lights, clicks of cameras and shouts of Bronson’s name from every direction followed them as they made their way up the red carpet toward the steps leading into the Marché du Film Theater.
Mia couldn’t believe this. Simply couldn’t believe she was in Cannes, wearing a Victoria Dane design on the red carpet with Bronson’s strong hand on her bare back. She took mental images of every moment because she knew, once she got back to the real world of “assisting,” this would all be a wonderful, distant memory.
Though, she had a feeling the tingling from Bronson’s touch would linger long after tonight. And that was just fine with her. Mercy, the man was potent.
She allowed him to lead her from camera to camera, giving a subtle nudge to her back when he wanted to move on to the next one. Did celebrities ever tire of this attention? Did they enjoy being photographed at every twist and turn? Probably not, but this was all so new to her, she was loving every minute.
But she’d worked in the industry, albeit in the background, long enough to know the camera caught everything. Would viewers see the Cinderella-like euphoria she drifted in? Would it capture the smile on her face that said she was having the time of her life, even though she hadn’t been to a viewing, ceremony or post-party yet? She certainly hoped the sometimes unforgiving lens didn’t zero in on her nerves and shaky hands.
“They’re wondering why you’re here on my arm,” Bronson whispered in her ear as they turned to another camera. “Relax.”
“Easy for you to say,” she whispered.
His thumb stroked her back. “I’ve seen you wearing a scrap of terry cloth and water droplets, surely you can relax for a few cameras.”
Did he have to keep bringing up that mortifying experience? Or perhaps he brought it up because he wasn’t totally unaffected by her….
“You aren’t the one who’s been accused of having an affair with your boss.” A horrifying experience.
He laughed, flashing his signature charming smile, no doubt giving the greedy paparazzi the snapshot they’d been after. “That’s what makes you even more intriguing. They don’t know what to expect.”
They moved down the red carpet as more celebrities arrived, pleasing the rest of the media that awaited. Mia couldn’t believe all the stars standing so close to her looking glamorous and flawless. Everyone smiled, waving to various cameras and gave brief interviews to the press.
True, she didn’t like the limelight, but the recent rumors had given her no choice. The media ate up any type of scandal. And while Mia wasn’t thrilled with having her life in the news, she would sacrifice her privacy if it meant taking the heat off Anthony long enough for him to rebuild his marriage. The media would no doubt speculate about her being a bed hopper, but she knew the truth.
“Let them speculate,” she murmured. “I have nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Let’s head on inside,” he told her and waved as a camera flashed in their faces. “I’m sure my mother is already wondering why we’re not in our seats. She’s always an hour early for these things so she can mingle.”
Mia held on to Bronson’s arm as she started up the red-carpeted steps. “And you don’t like to mingle?”
He shrugged. “I mingle plenty at the after parties.”
Mia laughed. “You’re a man of few words. Aren’t you?”
“When it’s time to talk, I talk. Time to work, I work.” He looked down at her, steely blue eyes darting to her lips. “Time to play, I definitely play.”
A shiver rippled up her spine, stemming straight from that powerful stare. Fantastic. Just one heavy-lidded bedroom gaze and she had zings shooting through her body into every nook and cranny, making her even more attracted to the playboy on her arm.
“Any more questions?” he whispered in her ear, so close his warm breath tickled her cheek.
He may be quiet, but perhaps that’s why he had a reputation as the master seducer. The subtle brush of his fingertips across her bare back, the whispers and those ocean-blue eyes—the man was charming seduction in stealth mode.
She turned, their mouths nearly touching. “I’ll take a rain check.”
Bronson leaned back just a hair and laughed. “And I’m sure you’ll redeem it soon.”
She smiled as they entered the grand foyer. “Count on it.”
“Vous êtes trop genre.”
Bronson jerked his head around at the flawless French that came from Mia’s glossy lips as she spoke to a popular French producer. She laughed, patted the elderly man’s beefy arm and turned back to Bronson.
“Sorry about that,” Mia told him, beautiful smile still in place. “On my way back from the chocolate fountain Mr. du Muir stopped me and we started chatting.”
Chatting? In French? First she shows up in the lobby looking like sin in stilettos, teasing him with upswept hair and a bare back that just begged his hands to explore more, and then she conducts a conversation in French that sounded as if she’d been living in France her whole life.
“I forgot you were fluent in French,” he told her, taking a champagne flute as a waiter walked by. He handed her the glass and an embossed napkin. “Mother told me you have an ear for languages.” Not to mention he’d seen it on her background reports.
“I speak French, Spanish and Italian.” She took a sip of champagne, leaving her plump pink lips moist, inviting.
“You even had the sexy accent down. You sure you’re not an actress?” He only half joked.
Not once at the Marché du Film opening night film earlier or since they’d entered the Icon Picture party had she acted shy or uncomfortable. She’d lit up the red carpet with her smile and sultry gaze into the cameras, and Bronson knew without a doubt that when he saw their pictures in a tabloid, his eyes would be glued to this Italian beauty. There wasn’t a man drawing breath who would blame him for being infatuated with her.
How many times over the past few years had she escorted Anthony Price to events? He’d never seen her, but then he hadn’t been looking and didn’t care who Anthony entertained. At least not at that point.
“Not an actress,” she assured him with a smile. “I just find speaking another language romantic and mysterious.”
“Romantic and mysterious?” Bronson leaned in so only she could hear. “The perfect description of my date tonight, wouldn’t you say? Makes me want to uncover more of you.”
Bronson leaned back, eager to see her eyes, even more eager to hear her response. But Mia’s dark gaze darted over his shoulder. Bronson turned to see what she was looking at, and the moment was gone.
“Oh, there’s your mother.” Mia waved, standing on her tiptoes.
“Darling!” Olivia closed the gap and kissed Mia’s cheek. “So sorry I’ve been scarce since the showing. I’ve been catching up with old friends. There’s quite a buzz about the beauty on my son’s arm. There’s not a man who can keep his eyes off you, my dear.”
Mia laughed. “Oh, please. Every woman here is stunning.”
Not like you. God, the words nearly came out of his mouth. But it was true. There wasn’t a woman in Cannes right this minute who compared to Mia.
Focus. He wasn’t here to get played by this woman—he was here to see what the hell she truly wanted from his family. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that Anthony had some kind of agenda behind Mia’s career move. But he didn’t have to worry about his mother saying anything to her personal assistant about the script they’d been working on. It was just as important to her that nothing be revealed until they were both ready.
And, if Mia turned out to be as clean and innocent as her background check indicated, then he would let her be. But if he found out she was indeed working for Anthony, they both would rue the day they decided to cross the Danes.
Bronson kissed his mother’s cheek. “It’s a shame Victoria couldn’t join us this year.”
Olivia smiled. “Working hard on a big celebrity wedding trumps us, darling. That girl does work herself to death.”
Bronson laughed. “Says the pot about the kettle.”
Olivia wrapped an arm around Bronson’s waist in a half hug. “I’m proud of all my children for their hard work.”
Bronson was about to say something else, but his thought was lost as he looked to Mia. A flash of pain darted through her eyes.
“You’re all very lucky to have each other.” Mia took a sip of champagne. “Does Victoria usually attend, as well?”
“Almost always,” Olivia said. “She designed many of the dresses you see here tonight, and she loves nothing more than to admire her work up close.”
Bronson didn’t know about the other clients, but he was sure as hell happy with the dress she’d chosen for Mia. And he couldn’t help but wonder what other taunting designs would adorn Mia during their trip. What dress he would ultimately unwrap her from.
God help him. This was only night one.
“It’s getting late.” Olivia lifted her face, placing a kiss on Bronson’s cheek. “See you tomorrow. Mia, I’ll see you first thing in the morning.”
Mia smiled and nodded. “I’ll be at your suite by eight.”
As his mother disappeared beneath sparkling chandeliers into the sea of glitz, glamour and overflowing champagne fountains, Bronson turned back to Mia, who was placing her empty flute on the tray of a passing waiter.
Mia smothered a yawn. “I’m still a bit jet-lagged.”
He hated that the evening was drawing to a close, but it was late and he had an early meeting. “Then I’ll escort you to your room.”
With a warm smile that threatened to lure him in, Mia placed a slender hand on his arm. “No need to leave because I am, Bronson. I’m sure you have many more associates who’d love to chat with you.”
He shrugged. “It’s well after midnight as it is. You’re not the only one who needs to be well rested.”
Taking her soft hand, he laced her arm through his and escorted her through the party. He didn’t miss the fact that men seemed to keep their gaze on Mia a little longer than necessary … he knew the feeling of wanting to capture a mental picture of this beauty.
Mia, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to the attention.
“And here I thought all you Hollywood hotshots never slept,” she went on, smiling up at him.
Those dark-as-night eyes could make a man forget any scruples he had. The sweet floral scent radiating off all that bare skin made his mouth water. If the woman was this potent after one evening, how would he survive the rest of the trip?
Dammit. He hated being vulnerable, and Mia was working her way fast and hard under his skin.
“I won’t lie,” he told her. “We do burn the midnight oil quite often. Which is why we need to sleep when we can.”
As they stepped out into the warm night air, Bronson tasted the saltiness of the sea on his lips. He couldn’t help but wonder if Mia would taste the same.
Yachts lined the docks and bobbed gently with the subtle ripples of the Mediterranean. Thousands of twinkling lights glistened off the black water, setting a romantic ambiance seen in movies.
Obviously, a realistic effect.
“This place is amazing.” Mia snuggled closer to him as she looked out over the water. “I could live here and just stare at that gentle rolling tide all day.”
“We have coastline at home, as well.”
She looked back at him and tilted her head. “True, but there’s something romantic and glamorous about Cannes. I love Hollywood, but it’s all so … fake.”
Bronson laughed. “Fake? You’ve never faked anything?”
“No,” she said without hesitation. “What you see is what you get.”
His eyes roamed over her, then landed back on her flawless face. “The exterior is perfect without faking anything. But what about on the inside? You’ve never lied? That’s faking the truth. No?”
Mia looked back to the sea. “We all lie about something at some point, Bronson. It’s human nature not to reveal the truth when a lie can benefit us.”
Bronson stepped in front of her, keeping his hand on her arm. When she turned her gaze to face him, moonlight sparked off those deep, chocolate eyes. If he weren’t careful, he’d fall into them and lose the battle he was fighting with himself.
“What are you faking now, Mia?” he whispered.
A soft breeze from the water lifted a tendril of her hair and sent it dancing. He tucked the strand behind her ear, stroking a finger down the side of her face, down her neck until her breath caught.
“I told you.” She licked her lips, mocking Bronson because he wanted to be the one to lick that salty sea air off her parted mouth. “What you see is what you get.”
“What I get, huh?” he asked with a slight grin.
Bronson slid his hand up her bare arm, cupped the back of her neck and captured her lips beneath his.
Perfect. Absolutely … perfect.
God, he’d been so right in believing her lips would taste amazing. Soft, giving. Mia may be holding a secret, but if it had anything to do with her sexuality, he’d just uncovered it. There was a passion brewing beneath this confident, yet private woman.
She wrapped her fingers around his biceps, whether to push him away or hold on as he continued assaulting her mouth he didn’t know. But he wasn’t going to stop unless she made him because one taste, just one, had him pulling her against him. His hands roamed up that bare back that had mocked him all evening. Damn this dress. He wanted it off her. Now.
With their bodies only separated by his tux shirt and thin layers of chiffon over her breasts, Bronson could feel the effect he had on her.
A snap and flash had him pulling back just in time to see a paparazzo running in the other direction.
Damn.
“Oh, God, did he …”
“Yeah.” Bronson gritted his teeth, taking a step back to put some space between them. “He snapped our picture and now he’s probably running back to whatever rag he works for.”
Mia held a hand over her mouth, eyes wide as she stared back at him. “Oh, Bronson, I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry because we kissed or sorry because we got caught?”
She smoothed that dangling strand of hair back. “Is that your way of finding out my feelings about what just happened? I’m not sorry we kissed. Surprised, but not sorry. I am sorry if what just happened ends up in the newspaper and causes more grief for your family in the press, especially with my recent scandal.”
Her concern seemed genuine—but so had her French accent.
Bronson shrugged. “My body blocked your face, so as far as the media’s concerned, you’re a nameless woman.”
But now that he’d had a sample, Bronson wanted the rest of what she had to offer.
Three
Nameless woman.
Mia wished those words from two nights ago still didn’t cut right into her heart, but they did. Is that how Bronson saw her? Was he just kissing her as a prelude to a passing fling? How many women walked away from this Hollywood playboy on weak knees, nursing a broken heart?
God knew hers were still shaking from that toe-curling kiss. But would she just be a statistic when this week was all over? How flattering.
Mia touched up her lip gloss over lips that ached for more of Bronson’s touch and examined herself in the ballroom’s bathroom mirror. The short, deep plum dress with one shoulder bare and the other with a long, flowing sleeve made her feel just as sexy and feminine as the previous dresses.
Night three of the festival was no different than the others … except that she was aching even more for Bronson, and she knew she was every kind of a fool for feeling this way.
She was realistic, though. He may want her physically, but that’s where their relationship ended. That didn’t stop her from daydreaming, and their smoldering kiss certainly hadn’t done a thing to diminish her attraction. Bronson Dane was every woman’s walking fantasy, and her hormones were no different than those of any other female who’d had the fortunate opportunity to be close to the Hollywood powerhouse.
Mia smoothed a hand over her belly, trying to calm her jumbled nerves. Only a few more days and they would be back in Hollywood, and Bronson would be off to meetings about his next movie prospect.
She’d watched him charm actresses and build up actors’ egos, though Mia knew it was just for leverage if he wanted them in a film one day. Hollywood was all about getting everything you wanted, no matter who you had to play to get it. And Bronson played the game like a pro.
But she doubted he needed to do all the charming. Bronson Dane was a force to be reckoned with in the industry. Turning down a chance to work with him would be an idiotic career move for anyone.
Mia smiled at an elderly woman and exited the bathroom. Just as she turned at the end of the hallway, she ran into Anthony Price.
“Mia.” He pulled her into his strong arms for a friendly hug. “I thought I saw you the other night, but discounted the idea. I didn’t know you’d be here.”
She jerked back. “You can’t do that. What if someone had taken a picture?” What if Bronson had seen them?
Anthony glanced around. “Paparazzi aren’t allowed in here, but I do apologize. I was just shocked and happy to see you. Are you here with Olivia?”
Mia smiled at her previous employer. “And Bronson.”
Anthony’s smile dimmed. “Really. Do they—”
“I haven’t said a word, Anthony.” She knew he was nervous about opening a nearly forty-year-old secret and potentially ruining lives—she didn’t blame him. “I told you I wouldn’t reveal the secret and I keep my word.”
“I know you do.” He sighed. “I just haven’t figured out how to handle this. I mean, after all these years, lives will be changed forever. Not only that, but with my situation at home …”
Glancing behind her, Mia offered a smile. “I know. I’m here for you any time you need me. Don’t think because I’m not working for you that I’m not available to talk.”
“I appreciate that, Mia.” Anthony smiled. “I’m still trying to figure out why I let you go.”
“Because your marriage is more important than your assistant,” she reminded him. “You’ll be just fine, Anthony. You both need some time. But I should get back to the party before Bronson starts looking for me or someone sees us. It certainly won’t help your case.”
“You’re right. I can’t afford to lose Charlotte. But it was so good to see you again.”
“Perfect timing.”
Mia jerked around at Bronson’s deep voice. “Bronson.”
“Don’t let me interrupt,” he told her, his gaze on Anthony. “I was wondering if you were okay, but now I see you are.”
Why did she feel like she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t have? Damn. Could she not talk to a close friend without someone assuming something more sinister was going on?
Mia was smack dab in the middle of two of the most powerful men she knew. The air around them crackled with tension. Now that she could see them both up close, she studied their faces.
Yes, the resemblance was there. Subtle, but it was there.
Ironic that biological half brothers, raised in two separate families, could both grow up to be Hollywood moguls and totally despise each other.
“I didn’t realize Mia was your date,” Anthony told Bronson. “You’re a lucky man.”
Bronson’s gaze narrowed. “Yes.”
Mia couldn’t handle the awkward silence. God, if she was this uncomfortable, she couldn’t imagine how Anthony felt, having known the truth for the past six months.
When Anthony chose to reveal the secret to Olivia, he’d told Mia he would not cause a big scene and make more scandal than necessary. Even though he and Bronson despised each other, Anthony had always expressed his respect and admiration for the Grand Dane and wouldn’t do anything to purposely hurt her. Though he would confront her, eventually. He had a lot of questions for her.
Well, Mia knew one thing. She didn’t want these two together any longer. All they needed to do was have an argument about anything at all and news of it would be sent to every media outlet within moments—complete with pictures that would fuel the press even more.
She moved over to Bronson, placing a hand on his arm. “You ready? I could use some champagne.”
The muscle in Bronson’s jaw ticked. Mia gave a subtle tug on his arm.
“It was great to see you, Anthony,” she said.
“You look beautiful, as always, Mia.” Anthony leaned over and kissed Mia on the cheek. “I’m sure I’ll see you again before the festival is over.”
Mia smiled and, thank God, Bronson led her toward the champagne fountains. Celebrities mingled, sipping drinks, laughing, and all Mia could think of was how hard her heart was pounding over being in the middle of Bronson and Anthony. Mercy, they were something remarkable to look at, but she certainly wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of either of their angry stares.
As long as she just focused on her job and let Anthony handle everything, she had nothing to worry about. Yes, she wanted to help blend these two broken siblings, but that was not her place. Because she knew—God did she know—how much damage could be done by letting a life-altering secret slip.
Mia stopped at the champagne fountain and turned to Bronson. “Relax.”
His piercing blue gaze landed on her. “I’m relaxed.”
“You were until you saw Anthony. Now you’re shooting daggers.”
“It’s no secret that we don’t get along,” Bronson told her. He took a delicate flute and filled it with champagne. “Besides, I thought you two were finished. Or don’t you care who sees you?”
“I worked for him. We’re friends. That’s the extent of our relationship.” Mia took the drink he offered.
“You two looked cozy when I found you.” Bronson lifted a brow, tilting his head. “And the media says otherwise.”
Mia didn’t even pretend not to know what he was talking about. Her eyes narrowed. “You should know you can’t believe everything the Hollywood tabloids print. Why do you care anyway?”
Bronson shrugged, eyes roaming over the crowd. “None of my concern what you did with your ex-employer as long as it doesn’t trickle over into my family.”
His close-to-the-truth words nearly had her choking on her champagne. Mia quickly composed herself as his eyes came back to settle on her.
“Nothing gets in the way of my job,” she assured him. “I’m thrilled to be working for your mother.”
His silence combined with his intense stare left her unsettled.
“There’s something more, isn’t there?” she asked. There had to be. Anger radiated off Bronson. “You look ready to—”
“Leave it alone, Mia.”
His firm tone left no doubt he wasn’t happy with her observation. There was something deeper than just not getting along on set, but Bronson was private and there’s no way he would tell Mia … nor was it any of her business. Yet she couldn’t help her curiosity.
“Why did my talking to Anthony get you so riled up?”
“No concern of yours.” Bronson closed his eyes briefly, then opened them and settled them on her. “Just had a flashback of another time. Another place.”
Another woman. The words hung in the air, just the same as if he’d said them. Jealousy from Bronson Dane was certainly not something she expected, but she had a strong feeling past and present were getting jumbled together.
“It’s getting late,” he told her. “I’ll walk you to your room.”
Mia handed her glass off to a passing waiter. “Of course.”
Something had transpired between those two men, and more than likely no one knew about it but them. She certainly hadn’t heard anything while working with Anthony … at least nothing out of the ordinary.
If Bronson was this angry now, she could only imagine how furious he would be once he found out Anthony was his older brother.
Bronson didn’t know what he wanted more—to know what secret Mia and Anthony had been discussing or whether or not they’d been involved.
No. That was wrong. What he wanted most right now was Mia. Naked. Whatever had happened between her and Anthony in the past was irrelevant to what he wanted now. He refused to relive any part of the last relationship he’d had with a woman he’d trusted. Trusted her so much he’d been ready to spend his life with her and their child.
Their child. That turned out to be another lie.
Bronson rid his mind of that painful time and concentrated on something he understood. Lust. Good old-fashioned lust. He wanted the sexy, sultry Italian woman who’d taunted him with her radiant beauty, her teasing jasmine scent and the power she held over him.
Ushering Mia off the elevator, Bronson snaked his arm around her waist, guiding her toward her suite at the end of the wide hall.
Silence had accompanied them from the party, though the sexual tension had been apparent between them on the ride up. Now there was just one thing on his mind.
Mia pulled her key card from her small silver clutch and opened the door.
“Do you want to come in?”
And that was all the invitation he needed.
“Yes,” he said before he palmed her face and pulled her hard against him.
This was what he’d fantasized about since seeing her wearing droplets. Desired since she’d come to Cannes and strolled into the lobby wearing that draped-back dress. But this dress, this one-shouldered number, would be so easy to peel off her. And he would be shedding her dress in a matter of seconds.
Right now, though, he concentrated on her mouth. Her perfect lips that gave all he took. The lips he’d ached for since he’d tasted them two long nights ago.
He backed her into the suite, her clutch falling from her grasp just as the door slammed behind them. Her hands clenched around his biceps and squeezed just as she let out a soft moan.
Bronson lifted his mouth just a fraction. “I’ve wanted you for days. Tell me you’re not still with Anthony.”
“I never have been,” she assured him before she captured his mouth again.
Mia was just as hot and passionate as he’d anticipated, and even more so than the other night. Perhaps because they were behind a closed door now. And Bronson had every intention of taking advantage of this privacy. No paparazzi, no media. Pure, utter privacy.
He couldn’t take in enough of her at once. He wanted her. Naked. Now.
He continued moving her into the room until the backs of her legs bumped into the decorative table in the living area. All power was lost, all control vanished. His mouth traveled down her jawline to her neck, from her bare shoulder and on to the top of the clingy dress.
Mia placed her hands behind her on the table and arched into him, offering herself up as if she’d been needing, craving this moment as much as he had.
He lifted his head and slid the thin material down her arm until she freed herself of the unwanted sleeve. An ache he didn’t remember having in a long, long time encompassed every part of him. Taking the hem of her dress, he eased it up as Mia shifted from side to side to assist.
“I don’t have protection with me,” he told her, cursing himself for being ill-prepared.
“I have some in the cosmetic bag on the table behind you.”
God bless a prepared woman. He shuffled through the bag in a hurry, found the foil wrapper and smacked it on the table next to Mia’s hip.
She’d moved the dress farther up to her waist, giving him more than a glimpse of what she wore beneath.
“Beautiful,” he whispered as his eyes landed on the small scrap of lace in the same shade of purple as her dress. He slid the garment down her toned legs and over the stilettos. The fantasy shoes had to stay.
“You don’t know how much you’ve driven me crazy.” Bronson made quick work of his pants while Mia nipped along his jawline.
“Then kiss me because I’m going just as crazy waiting.”
She scooted to the edge of the table as he donned protection. Her long legs wrapped around his waist and he lost no time in taking her.
Yes … yes. Her body moved perfectly against his, and Bronson had to work to keep from being too rough, too fast. He wanted this feeling of euphoria to last. The anticipation building up to this paled in comparison to having Mia draped all around him.
He realized then that the past two days had all been foreplay leading up to this moment. And each one of those stepping-stones, from the subtle touches to the harmless flirting, was mild when he had Mia right where he wanted her.
With her body wrapped around his, Bronson set the rhythm, pleased when an audible sigh escaped her full, moist lips.
It was those lips that had driven him crazy. Hell, the entire package made him feel like a horny teenager, but those lips mocked him when they smiled, when they talked. When they moaned.
Bronson kept the pace fast because nothing, absolutely nothing could slow him down now. He feasted on Mia’s mouth. She grabbed hold of his shoulders, gripping the tux shirt he still wore because being inside her had taken precedence over being fully undressed.
Sweat drenched the skin beneath his shirt, and a fine sheen covered Mia’s shoulders as he moved his lips down to one freed breast.
He didn’t care that this was his mother’s assistant, didn’t care if she’d had or hadn’t had a relationship with Anthony. All Bronson knew was that he wanted this woman, and what he wanted, he took. And Mia, the intriguing, dark-eyed beauty, had been onboard from the first kiss.
When her body shivered, shook, Bronson stopped holding back and let go. As they crested together, he knew this was not a one-time thing.
When their trembling ceased, Mia opened her eyes and smiled. “I have to say, I like how you walk me to my room.”
Bronson nipped at her swollen, moist lips. “I should warn you: I intend to do this again as soon as I recover.”
Trembling fingers toyed with the buttons on his shirt. “Maybe we could be skin to skin this time.”
Anticipation rippled through him. “Absolutely.”
No, Bronson didn’t care that Mia was his mother’s assistant, didn’t care that he didn’t trust her. And he sure as hell didn’t care if she was now or ever had been involved with Anthony Price.
Because he wasn’t getting his heart involved with anyone ever again. Not after his last relationship. His ex-fiancée had walked away after miscarrying a child he’d thought was his.
His ex-fiancée had met Anthony on a movie set, where she’d been the makeup artist, ironically the same way Bronson had met her. When Bronson and she began arguing after the death of the baby, and their relationship became strained, she’d thrown the supposed affair in his face once she’d walked out on him.
So, no, there was no love lost between Anthony and him. And any potential for future relationships was completely destroyed after that whole fiasco.
Lust and sex. That’s all Bronson had room for in his life, and the very naked woman in his arms would fill that void nicely.
Four
Six weeks later …
What had she eaten?
Mia groaned. Closing her eyes, she let her head fall back against the plush sofa cushions. In the seven months she’d worked for Olivia, never once had she asked for a day, or even an hour, off. But today there was absolutely no way she could’ve made it through the afternoon without falling over or running to the bathroom and hugging the commode—not qualities a personal assistant to the Grand Dane should possess.
Olivia had taken pity on her and sent her home, with the promise Mia would call if she felt worse or needed anything at all. Mia would’ve promised anything to anyone if it meant she could crawl back onto her comfy sofa and lie perfectly still. Why did the house keep shifting?
Yeah, there was no way at all she could’ve kept up with the fast-paced, never-tiring Olivia Dane. Not today.
With the majority of her work on her laptop, she was just fine right here in her own living room. Well, she would be fine if the room would stop tilting and her stomach would stop rolling. Seriously, all she’d had for dinner the previous night was a piece of baked fish and some steamed veggies. Nothing at all to prove fatal, yet death was surely knocking at her door because concentrating on these fan emails was taking the last bit of energy she had.
Mia lifted her head and clicked on another email with a sigh. The message, like hundreds of others, wanted to know when Bronson would produce a film with his mother playing the lead role. The public loved this close-knit Hollywood family, and the fact that the Grand Dane and the best producer in the business hadn’t worked together yet kept people interested.
Why did everything circle back to Bronson? In the six weeks since he’d left Cannes to go on a business trip for his next film, she hadn’t heard a word from him. She’d been in the room once when he’d called to chat with his mother, but that was as close as she came to the man who’d given her the most spine-tingling night of her life.
Obviously, he’d been able to move on, so why was she still hanging on to the memories of his touch, his kiss? His taste. She lived in Hollywood. Sexual partners came and went. Unfortunately, sex had always meant more to Mia that just a casual coupling.
But, she reminded herself, he’d stressed that he didn’t want anything personal, and she completely understood. For one night of passion with Hollywood’s hottest bachelor, she’d put her moral compass aside and taken one for the team.
Though deep down, there was that little girl inside her who wished for the old Hollywood fairy tale, the handsome man to sweep her off her feet, the mansion where they’d live happily ever after. Of course she’d keep all her wishes and dreams to herself, but she couldn’t help the fantasies that flitted through her mind.
Unfortunately this was Hollywood. Unfulfilled fantasies were everywhere. But she didn’t care if wanting her dreams to become reality made her naive. She’d continue to be a hopeless romantic.
She clasped the locket around her neck, the image of her parents’ picture inside flooding her mind. They’d chased their dreams when they’d come to America from Italy. So what if she was a dreamer? That only made her work harder for what she wanted. And a part of her did want Bronson. Granted, she didn’t know him that well, but she’d like to get to know him better. He’d been so attentive, so giving with his affection, not to mention he’d been a true gentleman the entire week they’d spent together.
But had she seriously thought Bronson would sleep with her, find himself falling madly in love and they’d ride off into the sunset in a town that was full of lies and deceit? Even couples who’d been married for a number of years seemed to fall into the bottomless pit of divorce.
And why was she wasting a workday fantasizing about weddings, divorces and Bronson’s thrilling touch?
Mia’s hands flew across the keyboard as she replied to the interested fan. There was nothing in the works for Olivia and Bronson, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a possibility. And Mia knew the two would love to work on a film together, they just hadn’t found the right one—or so she’d been told.
This was the part of her job she dearly loved—hearing from all the people around the world who reminisced about old Grand Dane movies and still enjoyed seeing her on the big screen with the hottest up-and-coming young stars. No doubt about it—when Olivia Dane made an entrance on to the screen, the audience loved her. No one could ever overshadow her beauty, class or intelligence. She reigned supreme even over today’s hottest stars.
As she read more fan mail exuding love for this successful, bonded family, guilt washed over her.
When would Anthony tell Olivia he knew the truth? On one hand, Mia wanted it to be out in the open so she didn’t have to hoard all this guilt. But, on the other hand, once the truth was out, how many lives would be ruined? Would the Danes be able to move on? They were such a tight-knit family and had lived through minor scandals, but something of this magnitude could cause tremendous upheaval. Anthony and Bronson already loathed each other. Informing Bronson they were brothers would surely prove to only drive that hatred to a deeper level.
And ruining Olivia’s flawless image wouldn’t solve anything.
Mia’s stomach churned again. Between the constant fear of how these two families would cope with a forty-year-old secret and whatever stomach bug she’d picked up, Mia was ready to crawl back into bed and call it a day. Unfortunately, it was only ten in the morning and she still had about fifty more emails to get to and some phone calls to return for Olivia’s TV talk show appearances to promote the new movie she had a cameo in. No rest for the dying.
Just as she opened another email, the doorbell sounded throughout the cottage. Cottage was a silly word for the five-thousand-square-foot guesthouse, complete with its own swimming pool, hot tub and movie room with a floor-to-ceiling movie screen. However, compared to the main house, at twenty-two-thousand square feet, this was definitely a cottage.
Mia came to her feet, thankful the room had stopped tilting for the time being, glanced down to her less-than-professional attire and shrugged. She’d changed into something more comfortable when Olivia had sent her home and hadn’t expected to see anyone else today.
Oh, well. More than likely if it wasn’t Olivia herself, then she’d sent one of the staff to check on her. Mia loved that Olivia cared for her in that motherly way … a way her own mother never had the chance to. She only prayed the cook hadn’t brought food, as Olivia had suggested. The thought sent her stomach revolting—again.
The cool tile beneath her feet as she crossed the foyer felt refreshing, considering she was getting a bit lightheaded again. Maybe she needed to crank up the AC or get a cool cloth for her head.
Mia twisted the lock and opened her door to see Bronson in all his gorgeous glory bathed in the sunlight falling over his shoulder. With his California tan, styled “messy” hair, green polo and dark designer jeans, he looked every bit of perfect. So opposite her. Oh, wait, she had the messy hair, just not in the stylish way he sported it. No, hers was more of the get-out-of-my-face-because-I’m-going-to-be-sick mess in a topknot with stray pieces hanging down.
“I called up to the house. Mom told me you were sick,” Bronson said, leaning against her doorjamb. “Is there anything you need?”
Really? He’d rushed here after not a word in weeks? A phone call would’ve proved just fine and then she wouldn’t have to worry about how deathly she looked while he, as usual, looked drop-dead sexy. If he hadn’t put their sexual encounter out of his mind already, one look at her would surely have him running for the next starlet.
“Mia. Do you need anything?” he asked again.
Yeah, for him to leave and only return when her makeup was on, her hair was done and her breath couldn’t be used as a weapon.
“I’m good.” She smiled. “Did you come over just to see how I was?”
Bronson shrugged. “I just got back into town a couple days ago and I was going to stop by to see you anyway.”
“Really?” Considering the six-week gap since they last saw each other, she was a little skeptical. “Why?”
“Honestly?”
Mia grabbed the edge of the door for some stability and lifted a brow. Yeah, she wouldn’t mind a little honesty from the man she’d slept with and couldn’t get out of her mind.
Bronson threw her that billion-dollar, white-tooth smile. “I wanted to see you again. I was hoping for dinner at my place, but if you’re sick, we can postpone.”
If she’d had the energy to jump up and down, she probably would have. Even the giddy girl inside her was wiped out this morning.
“I haven’t even agreed to see you again and you’re already making plans to postpone?” she asked. “My, my. Awfully full of yourself.”
Reaching into his back pocket, he whipped out a well-worn, folded-up tabloid.
Mia took it, unfolded it and saw the cover. A cover with the two of them in a heated embrace, kissing. Their first kiss that some paparazzo schmuck had captured and exploited. Not only was that picture blown up as the main feature, but there were also smaller pictures surrounding the perimeter. Snapshots from the red carpet, one picture of the two of them when they’d been waiting to meet with his mother for lunch—but, of course, Olivia wasn’t in the photo.
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