Page 33 of My Sexy Rival (Stars In Their Eyes 2)
The woman smiled, and her hazel eyes lit up. This was a moment not to be missed—the delicious moment when celebrity news that surprised everyone began spreading across the Internet. She swiveled her computer monitor around to show me the site.
“Veronica Belle and Bradley Bowman eloped to Las Vegas!” She squealed. “They tied the knot literally thirty minutes ago. Can you believe it? They went to an Elvis-themed wedding chapel with just their family members.”
The floor tilted once more and the sickening feeling hit my stomach. I stared hard at the pictures on the screen of Veronica in a sassy white minidress and Bradley in shorts and a short-sleeve button-down. They were laughing as they left the chapel, two sets of parents and a few pairs of siblings behind them. Everyone was dressed in casual wear, including the sister of the bride in a cute miniskirt, clutching Sparky McDoodle in her arms as she smiled brightly. The next shot showed Veronica tossing a tiny bouquet of daisies behind her. Then there was a picture of the newlyweds and their families hopping into a black stretch limo.
Flash.
The pictures had to have been taken by Flash. She was always one step ahead of me. Now she was three hundred miles ahead of me in Las Vegas, and probably laughing and smiling as she counted to one hundred thousand.
I swallowed thickly, trying to push down this terrible taste of failure in my mouth.
“That is just so clever,” the librarian said, and I realized she’d been speaking the whole time. “We were just talking about how something must have been happening down at Chelsea’s home today. I saw the party rental trucks, and then there were florist vans and a big red car that had some caterer’s name on it. What was that all about?” she asked with a kind of awestruck curiosity.
Her friend answered. “It must have been a decoy wedding.”
The redhead laughed, as if such a stunt was the most clever thing she’d ever heard.
“Yeah, it was,” I said in in a dead voice. “They hired actors. Extra types to show up. Pretend to be guests. Fill the seats. They even had stand-ins for Veronica and Bradley and Chelsea and Riley. They had security, too. To make it all seem real.”
“That is amazing to go to that effort. To spend all that money to just throw paparazzi off the scent,” the redhead said in admiration.
Her friend chimed in. “Well, nobody likes the paparazzi.”
Truer words were never spoken, and on that note, I left and drove all the way home without looking back.
13
William
* * *
Stuck on the other side of the property manning the front door of the estate, I barely even caught a glimpse of her leaving, just a flurry of color—her navy dress, her brown wig, her beige purse, and then, like a mirage in the desert, she was gone.
Minutes later, I was momentarily freed, so I tried calling several times, but her phone rang and rang. I swore under my breath, then with my focus on the gates, I picked up the pace, eager to search for her phone. She’d probably left it behind.
But James corralled me on the way and cut me off. “Change of plans,” he barked. “I need you over there in the receiving line. Congratulate the bride and groom.”
I tilted my head, as if I could better decipher his request from an angle. “But—” I started. “What’s the point?”
“No buts,” he hissed. “It’s part of the job.”
“Did you know it was a fake wedding?” I asked in a harsh clip, because he’d screwed over Jess. Big time.
He gave me a look like he thought I was stupid. “Kid, they’re my clients. Of course I knew.”
“And you didn’t mention it?” I asked, as if I were a lawyer in a courtroom, quizzing a belligerent witness. I reminded myself that whether he was in on it or not, he never knew I was the man on the inside, sneaking in a paparazzo to take clandestine shots. Truth be told, I hadn’t a leg to stand on when it came to this moral battle. Still, I was pissed as hell, and keeping me in the dark felt wrong.
“Don’t get your panties all bunched up because you missed the chance to meet Veronica and Bradley. You’ll get used to it in Hollywood,” James said, clapping me on the back.
Fighting the urge to roll my eyes and bite out a sarcastic comment, I drew a quick, deep breath, plastered on a smile, and said, “I assure you, that’s not the case.”
He stared down at me with wide and annoyed eyes. “Then get back out there and mingle. That’s the job, kid. We’ve got to keep up the appearance. That’s what the client wants. Eat some kale, look like a guest, then be on your merry way. Look, I know you’re hunting for a job, and I’m sorry as hell I can’t give you one, but do me a solid here and finish this up today, then tomorrow we’ll meet with the publicity shop about the paparazzi intel you got for me, and if you do those things, I’ll be sure to give you a good recommendation as you look for work, maybe even refer you to a few friends. How about that?”
