Page 14 of Princes of Hollywood

“You don’t have to agree to anything yet.” Aiden must sense what I’m about to say. “It would be no strings attached. You decide to end it. It ends. No one shows up blasting Peter Gabriel outside your window.”

I smile because I can’t help it. It’s an iconic scene, but why is that Aiden’s go-to? The movie is older than I am. It’s older than he is too.

“I’ll think about it.” Because there’s this glimmer of hope in Aiden’s eyes that I don’t want to snuff out. “When would I start?”

How many days would I have to put up with Chad or sleep in my car?

“Filming starts on Monday.”

My smile falls. It’s Wednesday. That’s five days. Maybe Bristol can make room for that long. I could go back to Chad’s, and technically my, apartment. I wince, remembering the request for a blow job and his use for my panties.

I can’t go back there. After today, I know his expectations, and that’s not happening.

“You live with your fucking asshole ex?” Roarke asks.

I nod, not even able to conjure a smile thinking about Chad.

“You’ll stay here, then. Tonight,” Roarke announces like it’s a done deal.

“Technically, she hasn’t signed an NDA, so we should keep her until then.” Mason strokes his hand over the scruff on his chin. His blue eyes follow my every move, making my insides turn to jelly.

“If you want.” Aiden gives Roarke a chastising look that does absolutely nothing to quell Roarke’s grin. “I’m sure we could have something drawn up quickly if needed. The room is available and it will be yours. If you want it.”

My mouth opens and closes. What choice do I have? That beautiful bedroom upstairs or the floor at Bristol’s or the couch at Chad’s. It’s an easy decision.

#

Roarke follows me out to my car to help me grab my things that I so elegantly blurted out I have with me. The fucking Roarke Flynn! My fangirl just won’t calm the fuck down. Especially knowing exactly what he wants from me. What they all want.

It’s a huge boost to my ego, but I’m afraid I’d just disappoint them. Sex is good and I enjoy it, but if it were a sport, I wouldn’t even qualify for a recreational league, and I’d definitely get picked last for most teams.

“This is your car?” Roarke eyes Old Betsy like she’s the ugly stepsister. “How is it still running? Duct tape and prayers?”

I hold up my hands to stop him. “Shh, you’ll make her mad. And no one likes Old Betsy when she gets mad.”

“It looks like it’s two minutes from croaking.” Roarke raises a golden eyebrow as he looks her over. Her paint is faded and she’s been dinged, but she’s gotten me this far in life.

“She is sensitive and a lifesaver, so stop dissing her.” I stroke a hand over her sunspotted hood. “She’s definitely seen better days, but she’s never let me down.”

And I’d need a pen and a stack of paper to list all the others in my life who have let me down. I bought her used for a grand when I was eighteen. Saving every penny I earned to get her was a priority.

“Fine. Old Betsy can park in my space,” he concedes. “I don’t have a car here yet.”

“She’s used to being in the sun.” I pop open the trunk and grab the bag I packed. Who knows what I grabbed and if I’ll be able to even make anything match. If I can’t find panties, I’m going to go medieval on Chad for distracting me.

Roarke strokes his hand down his cheek. “She doesn’t really go with the aesthetic of the house…”

I laugh out loud. He grins and closes in on me. My breath catches at his nearness. His sandalwood scent wraps around me, making me want to lean in closer.

“You have a sexy laugh, poppet.” His hand slides around the back of my neck, sending sparks through my system. My fangirl fights with my urge to put my hands on his chest to stop him. Unfortunately, fangirl doesn’t win.

“Roarke.” My hands press into the hard muscles of his pecs, and for a second, I forget why I put them there. The muscles twitch beneath my palms and I snatch my hands away like they were burned. Oof, yeah, I shouldn’t touch him. That’s playing with fire.

“Yes, poppet.” He uses that seductive tone I’ve heard way too often lately and in every movie. It’s almost a staple of the Roarke Flynn brand.

“Does this usually work?” I tilt my head as I meet his eyes.

He pauses and smiles slyly. “Usually.”

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