Page 8 of Princes of Hollywood

That speaks to a place deep inside me. There’s a reason I ended up in foster care. The person who was supposed to love me loved drugs more.

“My mom was an addict,” I say softly. “I couldn’t save her.”

After glancing at his phone and the strip again, Aiden lowers himself to sit on the floor. “How old were you?”

“Ten.” Normally, I’d let my hair fall around my face, but right now my hair is pulled back. My need to hide goes unfulfilled, ashamed of who I was. Who I am. The daughter of an addict.

“Hey.” The word is soft and compelling.

When I lift my gaze to his, he gives me a world-weary smile.

“Sometimes, it doesn’t matter how much we love someone. Sometimes the addiction wins.” He rubs his fingers together. “I’ve been through rehab. I did all the steps. I don’t want addiction to win.”

There’s a light in the darkness of his eyes. He’s battling this demon and he just needs me to keep him on track. He’s willing to fight. That’s a step in the right direction.

“I don’t drink alcohol or take drugs because I don’t want to become her. I don’t want anyone to end up like her.” A shiver races through me as the memory presses forward of her blank brown eyes staring into nothing. I push it down, hide it away like I’ve done for years.

“I promise I’m fighting.” His words flow over me, and I can see the strength in his eyes.

“If you choose me to go into the fight with you, I’ll fight harder than anyone else. That I promise you.” It comes from somewhere deep inside. This need to make sure no one loses their loved one. To make sure we don’t lose Aiden to the darkness.

“I believe you, little warrior.” Aiden’s lips tip into a smile as the timer goes off on his phone.

My insides warm as I return his smile. Maybe this is what I need too. A mission. Someone to save.

Chapter 3

Heat Waves

AIDEN

Greer Morrow is not who I expected to show up for this job. She’s young, maybe barely in her twenties, while we’re all almost thirty. She’s small and swimming in her oversized T-shirt and baggy pants. Her chipped pink toenails peek out of a pair of bright pink flip-flops.

Her voice has this husky factor that makes my balls tighten—which is probably why Roarke insisted she come interview. She’s small, compact, but refreshing. Fuck, if she’d shown up here in a dress that showed off those curves she hides, Roarke would have fucked her before we could even get a drug test.

As it is, I don’t think the baggy clothes are putting him off at all.

Mason and I discussed hiring a guy to do the job just so we don’t have to deal with a woman crawling into our beds. But I’m not sure I’d hate if Greer crawled into my bed. Besides, we didn’t have much luck with the last guy.

“Shouldn’t we check the dipstick?” she says softly. Her light brown eyes flick to the strip on the counter before returning to mine.

I shift to move to my feet and catch her sweet vanilla scent. I’m glad she didn’t notice my erection from patting her down earlier. That shirt is a fucking disappointment when I realized what lies beneath. Her breasts are perky and not as small as I thought. They’d fill my hand and my mouth nicely.

Fuck. Those aren’t the thoughts I should have about my employee. I should probably say no to hiring her. But when I meet those wide eyes, I also don’t want her to leave.

Turning, I check the test and note that everything is negative. I didn’t expect anything less. The pain on her face when she discussed her mother was like a kick to the groin, which helped to make my erection go down. That I made the people around me feel like she must have felt guts me.

My friends are my family, and I hurt them. Trying to stop the pain I felt was the only thing on my mind. To erase the pain caused by my failed marriage.

“Did I pass?” She stands behind me. Her flip-flops slap as she draws near to look around me.

“With flying colors.” I take a breath, inhaling her intoxicating scent. Fuck. I do the only thing I know will make my cock stand down: I think about preparing for a role.

“Good. What’s next?” Her husky voice teases my ears. She’s close enough that her warmth claws at me, making me want to turn and lift her onto the counter and bite those lips she keeps worrying with her teeth to discover how they taste. Then lick them to soothe them.

It’s been too fucking long since I’ve had sex. That’s the only reasonable explanation that this pixie of a woman tempts me.

“We should go back upstairs.” I take another moment to get myself under control. My eyes close, and I let my thoughts drift away until nothing remains.

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