Falling for Rome (Star Studded Book 1) Page 2

  Chapter Two

  Roman Grier

  I’d thought the crush of paparazzi at the airport this morning had been insane. But that was nothing compared to the pandemonium down the street from Kingston’s home in the Hollywood Hills. I stopped counting after five news vans. And there was an actual police barricade blocking the street. People lined the sidewalks, holding signs with messages of sympathy that should’ve been comforting but didn’t quite hit the mark. I mean, who waves sympathy signs? Honestly, it looked more like a circus than a vigil.

  I felt overwhelmed. I couldn’t imagine how King was dealing with all this. His estranged wife had just died. Why couldn’t anyone let him grieve in peace?

  Pongo whined from the passenger seat next to me. I reached over and gave him a rub behind the ear. “It’s okay, boy. Just ignore the hordes.”

  I cruised up to the barricade and rolled down my window as an officer approached my car.

  “The street’s closed unless you’re a resid—holy shit! You’re Roman Grier.”

  Pongo barked, baring his teeth at the young officer peering into the window of my Tesla Roadster.

  “Pongo, quiet.” I forced my lips into a semblance of a smile. Being the gracious Hollywood star was especially grating today, but I was always on in public. Everyone was always watching. “Yes, sir. Me and the mutt are here to see my brother.”

  “Right. Right. Can I say I’m a huge fan? Don’t tell the guys this, but I loved that one movie you did with Sara Hayes. What was it called?”

  “SWAK.” My smile was starting to fray at the edges.

  “Right! Where you were a member of SWAT and Sara was a mafia princess.” The officer’s eyes shined. “Not many get the police details right, but you guys were pretty spot on. Is it true that you did all your own stunts?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Even that one at the end where you had to jump onto the box van from the bridge?”

  “Yep.”

  “Awesome.”

  “Thanks.” I waited a beat for the guy to either ask for an autograph, selfie, or to let me through, but he didn’t. He just stood there with that awestruck look on his face that was starting to make me uncomfortable. Like I was a thing and not a person.

  “Yo, rook. We got a problem?” A forty-something craggy-faced officer approached us.

  Officer Super Fan stood at attention. “No, sir. Just talking to Roman Grier.”

  “Right. Well, if you’re done playing fan club president, either wave the guy on through or tell him to turn around. You’re holding up the damn line.”

  My eyes flicked to the rear-view mirror, and sure enough, four cars were idling behind me. Pongo whined in his seat.

  “Right, right. Sorry, sir.” Officer Super Fan turned and gave me an apologetic shrug. “I assume you’re here to see your brother?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Go on through. Please give him our condolences.”

  I jerked my chin in a tight nod and slid my sunglasses back onto my face. After waiting for an officer to move the barricade, I rolled through and pulled up to my brother’s gate.

  This part was going to suck. I had to get out to key in a code, since I couldn’t reach it from my car. I should’ve brought the Escalade. I could probably call my brother, but there was no guarantee he’d answer since he was most likely letting everything go to voicemail today.

  “Pongo, stay,” I said, unbuckling my seatbelt. I opened my door, jumped out, and quickly closed it behind me. As I walked over to the keypad, I heard a dull roar behind me interspaced with clicks and the occasional coherent question.

  “Roman! Any comment?”

  “Roman, do you know who the mystery man is?”

  “I love you, Roman Grier!”

  Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep.

  I keyed in my code and then dashed back to my car as the gate slowly rolled open.

  If anything, the roar increased.

  I swallowed down the bile tickling the back of my throat and pulled into King’s place. Some days I hated fame. We couldn’t even mourn the death of Zoe’s mother and King’s estranged wife without dealing with all this bullshit.

  I was so relieved when the gate clicked shut behind me. I pulled up to the garage and shifted into park.

  Pongo whined and licked my face.

  “Thanks, boy. I’m okay. You ready to go see King and Zoe? I bet she’ll be happy you came with me.”

  Pongo wiggled and breathed hot, dog breath on my face.

  “Awesome. Let’s go.” I pushed open my door and let him jump over to my seat to get out. I didn’t bother with a leash. There was no way for him to escape, and besides, I never had a problem with him listening—aside from this morning—but I chalked that up to him not seeing me for almost a month. And maybe the distracting presence of the sexy girl who’d walked him.

  When we reached the front door, I keyed in my code again and pushed the door open after it beeped. Pongo followed at my side, his toenails clicking on the tile entryway.

  “King?” I called into the cavernous house. “Where you guys at?”

  “Kitchen!” My brother hollered back.

  We walked through the living room and dining area to the open kitchen where King had Zoe strapped into a highchair.

  Zoe grinned at Pongo and let out a slew of gibberish from her applesauce-covered face. And I melted.

  “Wow, she’s gotten so big,” I whispered. It’d been a month since I’d seen my niece, but I swear she looked twice as big. Pictures just didn’t do her any justice.

  “Hey.” King stepped away from the sink with a wet washcloth in his hands. His eyes were red rimmed, like he was tired. Or had been crying.

  It was so hard to imagine my brother doing the latter. He had always been the strong one of our trio. I don’t remember him crying when our parents split up or when his wife left him. King was always the strong one. It hurt to see him like this.

  Not that I could say much. We didn’t exactly talk about our feelings in our family.

  “I didn’t expect to see you for a few more days.” King crossed the kitchen and enveloped me in a back-slapping hug. As he’d done a million times before. Like nothing was out of the ordinary. Like his wife of three years hadn’t died last night.

  King slapped my back one more time, then stepped away to mop up Zoe’s face.

  Zoe whined and squirmed away from the cloth.

  “Filming wrapped early,” I replied. Technically, I’d pushed the director and production team to film the last two New Zealand shoots in LA with the rest of the remaining scenes, in light of the circumstances. It hadn’t hurt my case that it saved the studio money to wrap up the location shoots early. Although I might’ve burned a bridge or two with the director and one of the producers. They weren’t happy with my high-handedness to say the least. But it was for King so in my opinion it was worth it. I’d do anything for him.

  “Huh.” King frowned as he tried and failed to wipe all the goop from his daughter’s face. “I don’t think that’s ever happened for me. Seems like it always runs long.”

  I hummed noncommittally. I wasn’t gonna tell him about the shitstorm I’d caused by demanding to leave early. My brother needed me, and I sure as hell wasn’t gonna apologize for it.

  Although now that I was here, I had no clue how to help.

  “Have you heard from Nix?” I stepped out of the way as King pulled Zoe out of the highchair. Then had to step up again as she dove out of his arms toward me. I caught her with a laugh. I hadn’t spent much time around babies, but this one loved me. Technically, she loved everyone—she went to family and strangers with the same vigor—but I liked to believe I was special.

  “He’s sleeping in the guesthouse.” King pulled the highchair tray out and carried it to the sink. “Said something about not being able to get into your place?”

  I sighed as I knelt, so Zoe could pat Pongo. “I uh, had to change my access codes before I left for New Zealand last month.” r />
  King tossed a sponge into the sink with a scowl. “What’d he do now?”

  Zoe babbled and nailed Pongo on the nose with her tiny hand. Pongo whined and hid behind my back.

  I stood, jostling her in my arms, and faced my brother. “He had some people over when I was out with Victoria.”

  “Right.” King was able to read between the lines. Our brother Phoenix, or Nix as we usually called him, had been deep in the party scene for a while. “Is it time to do something about him?”

  “Are you serious? Don’t you have enough on your plate as it is?”

  “And you don’t? When does filming start back up on your project?”

  Pongo shoved his nose at the back of my knees. I reached down and patted him distractedly. “I got a week. Do you know when the service will be?”

  A muscle flexed in King’s jaw, and he looked away. “Nah, I got my lawyer working on it, but there’s so much bureaucratic red tape. It’ll be a few days at least until we can get…her back stateside. And then I don’t know what the hell to do.”

  I could see the torment in my brother’s eyes. I knew more than most did about their marriage, but King hadn’t told me everything.

  I didn’t bother asking if our parents had reached out. King had cut Mom out after she gave that tour of our childhood home to Off the Record, and last I’d heard, Dad was working in South America and dating soon-to-be-wife-number-four.

  King’s eyes went glassy as he watched Zoe chew on her fist while I held her. “How the hell do you mourn someone you don’t even know anymore? Or never even knew in the first place?”

  So many platitudes died on my tongue. She was the mother of your child. Of course you felt…something for her, even now. Who was I to tell him how he should feel?

  “I don’t know, King. There’s no script for something like this. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with how you’re feeling—however you’re feeling.”

  He nodded tightly.

  I gave him an encouraging look and changed the subject. Because, feelings. “Have her parents crawled out of the woodwork yet?”

  “No, not a word.” King shrugged as his face went blank. He turned back to the sink and my cell rang. I passed Zoe over to him and looked at the screen where Jeff’s name was lit up.

  “Hey, man. What’s going on?”

  “Just wanted to give you an update on your schedule if you have a minute, and um, there’s a little issue that I don’t know if you’re aware of.”

  The hesitancy in Jeff’s voice made the hair on the back of my neck prickle. Jeff was a go with the flow, easygoing guy. It made him the best assistant, so his tentativeness now was definitely out of character. “Screw the schedule. What’s the little issue?”

  “It’s nothing too important, but apparently a pap caught you and Sophia on the beach this morning. The pictures are PG, but the innuendo in the copy is not. I had no idea you’d met Sophia.”

  Who the hell was Sophia? It took me a second to figure out what Jeff was saying.

  Then it clicked.

  The house-sitter/dog walker Jeff had hired, since I’d needed him on set with me in New Zealand. The woman with all the hair and attitude who’d tackled me on the beach this morning. “What kind of pictures could they have gotten from this morning?”

  I clicked over to speaker phone and searched for the pics. It wasn’t hard. They were everywhere. The Babbler, Off the Record, and even our local affiliates had posted them. Sophia walking Pongo. Me holding the leash with her next to Pongo. And the last picture, her on top of me looking all kinds of gorgeous with her wild hair and tender expression. Meanwhile I looked pissed, per usual.

  “I don’t know what kinda photoshop magic they performed, but that is not what happened.” I quickly outlined Jeff on what he’d missed out on after we’d parted at the airport.

  “She thought I was the client? Hilarious.” Jeff laughed then paused. “Uh, now that I think of it, I’m not sure if I actually got around to telling her. Everything was so chaotic before we left. I know she signed the NDA—I checked that when I got the alert about the pics. But I might’ve forgotten to fill her in on all the details before we left.”

  “Eh, as long as she signed the NDA, I don’t care. It’s not like the gossip rags actually care about the truth.” If I had a dollar for every starlet I’d been rumored to date, I wouldn’t need a career. Vultures. “What’s the update on my schedule?”

  Jeff filled me in on a few date changes, then before I ended the call he said, “Too bad you and Sophia weren’t actually a thing.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Just that it might’ve been a good distraction for the media. I know they’re hounding you guys right now, and who doesn’t love a love story? It might’ve taken some pressure off King.”

  My eyes turned to where my brother stood at the sink, smiling sadly as Zoe babbled up at him in his arms.

  I ducked into the living room and switched Jeff off of speaker phone. “I need you to get me a copy of Sophia’s background check and her NDA and then set up a meeting with her tomorrow at my place. I think you’ve stumbled onto a fantastic idea.”

  Chapter Three

  Sophia

  Why hadn’t I read this more closely before I’d signed it months ago?

  I stared at the NDA on my table in horror. At the time, I’d thought it was ridiculous. I was just there to walk a dog and water some plants. I didn’t even see anyone when I was with Pongo.

  But technically, I’d already violated the agreement with the little bit I’d told Molly about walking Pongo. When I signed the contract, I’d agreed to ‘never discuss, in either person, writing, or any other form of communication, anything that happened at the address or with the owner’s property, which technically included his dog, Pongo.

  At least no one had publicly linked me to the Roman Grier pictures. My coworkers had given me a few weird looks, but I was pretty sure that was more due to my spacey behavior than anything else. Jen had had to wave her hand in front of my face to finally get my attention earlier today. I’d been in my own little world. I couldn’t focus on anything.

  Maybe if I buried my head in the sand, this would all blow over. No one would tag me on social media, and I could forget the day I embarrassed myself, found out I’d broken an NDA, and was almost linked with a fricking movie star.

  My cell phone buzzed on the table.

  Jeff Jones: Need to see you tomorrow. What time are you available?

  Maybe if I pretended that I had a new phone number, I could get out of it. No doubt he wanted to talk about my horrible behavior and make sure I understood my NDA.

  Where was that conversation a month ago?

  My phone buzzed again.

  Jeff Jones: I know you’ve seen this text.

  What the…

  Jeff Jones: Has no one explained read receipts to you?

  Dang it. I’d turned them off on my last phone but hadn’t gotten around to it on my new one.

  Me: I have to be at my other job tomorrow 10-6

  Jeff Jones: Give me a sec.

  Ha. Like I was going anywhere. Although I would use this second to reset my settings on my phone. Goodbye, read receipts.

  Jeff Jones: Come over at the regular time to walk Pongo. We’ll talk then.

  Me: Okay. See you tomorrow.

  Did I sound easy breezy, and not like the freaked-out space cadet I clearly was? They still owed me my last paycheck, so of course I was going. But would Roman Grier be there? If he was, I needed to apologize, and then what? Ask him to read one of my screenplays? Gag. I’d never been that person, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to start now. Not with Roman Grier.

  He probably wouldn’t be there anyway. I was getting all worked up for nothing.

  The front door to our apartment crashed open, and I jumped.

  “Spill it all. Now.” Molly slammed the door behind her, tossed her purse onto the couch, and marched toward me like an invading army general.
/>
  I shook my head. “I can’t.”

  “Seriously? You get photographed with last year’s Sexiest Man Alive, and you won’t tell me anything?”

  I winced. I’d forgotten about that title. With all his leading roles in rom-coms, the magazine had dubbed him America’s Boyfriend. Le sigh. And I’d crashed into him like the actress in a rom-com. Not that I was expecting a Hollywood ending with my story. Life never turned out that way in reality.

  “Sophia? Hello?”

  I blinked back into the present with Molly’s hand waving in my face. “Sorry. So what’s going on with you and the lead singer? Did you call him back?”

  “Ha.” Molly snorted. “Don’t think you’re going to distract me with my little fling with the lead singer of a garage band, whose biggest claim to fame is headlining at our shitty neighborhood bar. Charlie wishes I called him back. No, what you’re gonna do is tell me what you can about Roman Grier without breaking your little NDA. Is this it?” Molly tipped her head at the sheaf of papers in front of me.

  “I literally can’t! Look, here it says when I signed this contract, I agree to never discuss in either person, writing, or any other form of communication anything that happened at the address or with the owner’s property, which means the dog, too. I can’t even mime the situation for you. You have to promise me you won’t say anything, Molls. I would be in so much trouble. I can’t afford to pay whatever someone like Roman Grier would come after me for. You can’t tell anyone what I’ve already told you. Or that I worked for Roman Grier. Please.”

  “Fine.” Molly huffed before turning around and heading for the fridge. “I won’t say anything or ask any more questions. There’s no need to ruin your mascara. You know I won’t say anything.”

  I hadn’t even realized I’d teared up. Swiping under my eyes, I took a few seconds to breathe. Molly was such a tenacious friend—in both the best and worst ways. She’d fight to the death for anyone she loved, but she’d also pursue the smallest thing with dogged intensity.