Page 90 of Love is a Harmony
He’d rarely dated, preferring girls who were convenient more than anything else, girls who could feed into his reputation.
Ben and Drew stared at him expectantly with matching grins on their faces.
“Shut up,” he grumbled.
They both laughed.
Drew’s head shot up. “Crap, there’s a knock on my door. I need to pretend to be sleeping in case it’s Piper. Talk to you fools later.” The screen went dark.
Noah’s lips tipped up into a smile as he thought of Drew’s assistant-imposed naps. Piper was amazing at her job, and as a woman in the industry, that meant being a bit of a ball buster.
It was Noah’s favorite thing about her.
“Come on.” Noah stood. “Let’s go get some dinner.” He hadn’t shown Stella much of L.A., but he wanted her to love it as much as he did.
“Rooftop?” Ben asked.
“Yeah, that’s perfect.” He walked out onto the balcony where Stella played with her barbies. Overhead, a grey sky promised rain. “Let’s bring your toys inside, Stell, we’re going out.”
She nodded and started collecting her toys, always doing as she was asked. Noah knew it was only a matter of time before Stella broke above the surface of her grief and started acting like a kid her age. Defiance… yeah, that would be fun.
For now, he’d enjoy her quiet acceptance.
Ben stood in the living room, watching Noah shepherd Stella inside. She walked into her room to deposit her toys, and Ben shook his head. “You’re really doing this parenting thing, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, mate. I think I am.”
“British bad boy Noah Clarke has been tamed.” He laughed.
Noah shoved him. “Don’t call me that. It’s so much weirder coming from you than the media.”
Stella joined them, slipping her hand into Noah’s. He squeezed. “Wait until you see where we’re going, Stell. It’s brilliant.”
The Rooftop was an exclusive restaurant in the heart of L.A. It sat on the roof of a posh beach hotel, a favorite place to stay for celebrities and dignitaries.
A tuxedo clad man stood at the main entrance behind the small podium that held tonight’s list. It took months and months to get a reservation, but there were perks to being a rock star.
Noah leaned on the podium, waiting for the man to look up.
“Name?” he said in a monotone voice.
“Noah.”
“Noah…” He waited for a last name before glancing up, his eyes widening. “Mr. Clarke. Forgive me.” He caught sight of Ben. “And Mr. Evans.”
“We need a table for three.” Noah looked behind him into the winding gardens across the massive rooftop. Tables were spread among flowering plants and twinkling lights. Beyond, the roof dropped off to give a million-dollar ocean view.
“Yes, of course. We keep a few tables open for drop ins like yourselves every evening.” He gathered three menus, his face showing no surprise when Noah gripped Stella’s hand. “Follow me.”
Noah nodded to a few people he recognized from various events over the years. Their table sat near the railing, letting them peer down onto the beach as the sun began to set.
He’d have to take Melanie there one day.
Stella’s wide eyes took in everything with a child’s wonder.
Somewhere, a camera flashed. Celebrities had to be careful who they took to places famous people frequented because the media was relentless and pictures inevitably appeared in the tabloids.
Through most of his career, Noah used that to his advantage to create what he called strategic scandals.
