A Beautiful Star (Beautiful Series, Book 5) Read Online Free Page A

don’t do it in public.’ I suspect she’s going to be quite peeved at me when the papers are printed in the morning.”
    “Sweet girl.”
    “My publicist thinks so.”
    I tilt my head to the side, studying his face and trying to see something of the man behind the public façade. This is something that has always fascinated me about celebrities – how different their real life is compared to the life they share with the world. Fake relationships are incredibly common, and are used to boost public profiles, while behind the scenes, the couple really hate each other.
    “And why did your publicist choose Simone Weston as your official relationship?”
    “She’s a woman with a reputable family background. Went to Yale. Finished the top of something she was studying. Her family is fairly powerful in LA, and she wants to be the girl on the arm of the leading man on the red carpet. It suits her image, it strengthens my image, and my money suits her lifestyle. It’s a win-win.”
    He tips his head back and downs yet another glass, refilling it again.
    “Are you actually going to get married, or is the engagement going to stay as it is until it doesn’t suit either of you anymore.”
    Letting out a laugh that is anything but joyful, he shakes his head. “Who knows? There isn’t a hell of a lot I control about my life these days.”
    “That’s a very common problem, I hear.”
    “Yes. It is, isn’t it?”
    For a moment, we just look at each other until he breaks the stare and downs his drink again. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, telling you all this shit,” he mumbles, pouring yet another glass. I lift my eyebrows, watching as he gulps that one down as well, looking inside the glass with a frown. “These glasses are ridiculous. They fucking hold nothing.” He walks away, holding the bottle in his hand and drinking straight from the neck as he heads toward a white leather couch that faces a large flat screen television that is mounted above a gas fireplace.
    Downing my own champagne, I leave the empty glass on the counter, sliding off the stool to follow after him, standing a few feet away as he slumps on the couch and flicks through the channels, giving each one a mere second before flipping to the next.
    “I won’t tell anyone,” I say, watching as his brow furrows as he looks at the bottle in his hand, tilting it backward to watch the liquid shift in the dark glass. I feel the need to elaborate, so I go on. “I won’t say anything about this place, or what happened today, or about your fiancée. Like I said, I’m not that kind of journalist.”
    He looks at me and nods once before returning to his channel changing.
    “OK,” I mumble, feeling as though things just became very awkward and deciding that perhaps I should leave him alone. “Well, thanks for today. I know you didn’t have to bring me here. You could have left me to deal with the fallout back at my place. But you did the decent thing by getting me out of there. I just want you to know I appreciate that.”
    He flicks the channel again, and I bite at my lip, suddenly feeling like I shouldn’t really be here at all. I guess my questions pushed a button for him, and I give myself a mental kick in the head. I really do need to turn off the questioning reporter in me at times.
    After a moment of nothing, I decide to step away and go to one of the bedrooms. I noticed that there was a smaller room as well as a main room in this suite, so I head for the smaller, figuring I could stay out of his way in there for tonight and then maybe I could go home tomorrow morning.
    “Sandra,” he says after I’ve taken two steps away from him, and I pause.
    “Yes?”
    “Do you think we could just sit and talk?” He shuts off the television and turns his head toward me slightly. In his voice, I hear hope, and I hear loneliness, and as much as I think that I shouldn’t, I find myself walking back to him and sitting at the other end of the couch.