I lean up and kiss him. His hand cups my face and pulls me close. This is the first kiss we’ve had in forever and it feels different somehow. It feels special. Passionate. Real. “Please take me home, Asher.”
He smiles at my use of his last name. It’s not an insult. It’s… familiar. When I look closely, I can see the tears in his eyes. “Where’s home, Grace? Just tell me where home is and I’ll take you there.”
“Home is…” I look up at Vaughn. He’s not the man I dreamed about. He’s disappointed me plenty of times. He’s as far away from my imaginary prince in the Land of Far, Far Away as they come.
But I’m not complaining. Because he’s better. He’s better than anything I could ever have hoped for. He’s romantic and tender. Commanding and kind. He’s protective and loving and generous and… mine.
He’s all mine.
“With you,” I tell him. “As long as I’m with you, I’m home.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
I CLOSE the limo door after helping Grace get in the back seat and walk around to my side. My phone buzzes in my pants and I grab it from my pocket, thumbing the accept tab as I bring it to my ear. “Yes.”
“Vaughn Asher?”
I stop walking. “Who is this?”
“Is this Mr. Asher? Because what I have to say can only be said to him.”
“Who. Is. This?”
The woman on the other end of the phone huffs out a breath of air. “Carey Keefe. And I’m going to assume you are, in fact, Mr. Asher?”
Keefe? Why does that sound so familiar?
“I’m the editor-in-chief at Buzz Hollywood?”
Oh, fuck.
“You still there, Mr. Asher?”
“I don’t have time for this, so what do you want?”
“You do have time for this, Mr. Asher. Take my word on that. Because I’ve got pictures of you here on my desk. Actually, pictures of your wife, as well. Pictures my head gossip reporter got off Twitter.”
Fuck again. “I’m going to ask you once more, and then I’m hanging up. What do you want?”
I can almost hear the smile on the other end of the phone. “No denial, huh?”
“What’s to deny? You say you have pictures. Three seconds and you get the beeps.”
“OK, wait. I’m wavering between allowing my reporter to publish these and making her bury the story. In fact, we had a huge fight over it. She really has it in for you.”
“What’s new? That bitch has been after me for years.”
“Right. I’ve noticed that it seems a little… how should I say it… personal with her? Do you know each other?”
Do I know her? I ponder this question for a moment and then Grace knocks on the back window and silently asks me if everything is OK from inside the car.
“I just don’t have time right now.”
“Mr. Asher, if I don’t get the story behind this, I’m going to let my reporter go to print with whatever she wants. And believe me, this spreadeagle selfie of your wife is not even news-worthy compared to what she’s got on you. So I’ll give you twenty-four hours to get your poor wife settled back home. And then I need a phone call and a personal meeting. Twenty-four hours.”
She gives me the three beeps.
I let out a long breath of air and continue my walk around the car. I open the door and slide in next to Grace with a huge smile.
I’m an actor. It’s what I do.
“Everything OK?” Grace asks.
“Perfect, sweets.” I lean over and kiss her, then drag her up to my chest until she scoots down to lay her head in my lap. “Perfect.” I play with her hair as we make the trip south to the airport where the jet is, and by the time we get there, she’s asleep again.
I carry her to the plane, set her down gently on one of the couches, and then help myself to a beverage as the pilot performs the pre-flight check.
Do I know her, Keefe asked.
Fuck, I wish I could forget her.
I’d do anything to fucking forget that night.
He smiles at my use of his last name. It’s not an insult. It’s… familiar. When I look closely, I can see the tears in his eyes. “Where’s home, Grace? Just tell me where home is and I’ll take you there.”
“Home is…” I look up at Vaughn. He’s not the man I dreamed about. He’s disappointed me plenty of times. He’s as far away from my imaginary prince in the Land of Far, Far Away as they come.
But I’m not complaining. Because he’s better. He’s better than anything I could ever have hoped for. He’s romantic and tender. Commanding and kind. He’s protective and loving and generous and… mine.
He’s all mine.
“With you,” I tell him. “As long as I’m with you, I’m home.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
I CLOSE the limo door after helping Grace get in the back seat and walk around to my side. My phone buzzes in my pants and I grab it from my pocket, thumbing the accept tab as I bring it to my ear. “Yes.”
“Vaughn Asher?”
I stop walking. “Who is this?”
“Is this Mr. Asher? Because what I have to say can only be said to him.”
“Who. Is. This?”
The woman on the other end of the phone huffs out a breath of air. “Carey Keefe. And I’m going to assume you are, in fact, Mr. Asher?”
Keefe? Why does that sound so familiar?
“I’m the editor-in-chief at Buzz Hollywood?”
Oh, fuck.
“You still there, Mr. Asher?”
“I don’t have time for this, so what do you want?”
“You do have time for this, Mr. Asher. Take my word on that. Because I’ve got pictures of you here on my desk. Actually, pictures of your wife, as well. Pictures my head gossip reporter got off Twitter.”
Fuck again. “I’m going to ask you once more, and then I’m hanging up. What do you want?”
I can almost hear the smile on the other end of the phone. “No denial, huh?”
“What’s to deny? You say you have pictures. Three seconds and you get the beeps.”
“OK, wait. I’m wavering between allowing my reporter to publish these and making her bury the story. In fact, we had a huge fight over it. She really has it in for you.”
“What’s new? That bitch has been after me for years.”
“Right. I’ve noticed that it seems a little… how should I say it… personal with her? Do you know each other?”
Do I know her? I ponder this question for a moment and then Grace knocks on the back window and silently asks me if everything is OK from inside the car.
“I just don’t have time right now.”
“Mr. Asher, if I don’t get the story behind this, I’m going to let my reporter go to print with whatever she wants. And believe me, this spreadeagle selfie of your wife is not even news-worthy compared to what she’s got on you. So I’ll give you twenty-four hours to get your poor wife settled back home. And then I need a phone call and a personal meeting. Twenty-four hours.”
She gives me the three beeps.
I let out a long breath of air and continue my walk around the car. I open the door and slide in next to Grace with a huge smile.
I’m an actor. It’s what I do.
“Everything OK?” Grace asks.
“Perfect, sweets.” I lean over and kiss her, then drag her up to my chest until she scoots down to lay her head in my lap. “Perfect.” I play with her hair as we make the trip south to the airport where the jet is, and by the time we get there, she’s asleep again.
I carry her to the plane, set her down gently on one of the couches, and then help myself to a beverage as the pilot performs the pre-flight check.
Do I know her, Keefe asked.
Fuck, I wish I could forget her.
I’d do anything to fucking forget that night.
