PROLOGUE

Aires

I never understood weddings. 

The cost. 

The extravagant performance from your vows to your first dance as man and wife to the cutting of the red velvet cake that no one actually ate. 

The two families coming together as one. 

The speeches.

The bride throwing the bouquet and the groom the garter. 

For someone who didn’t care much for weddings, I found myself at them more often than I gave a shit about. 

You see, it was all bullshit. 

One big production. 

A huge lie. 

Beginning with the life sentence of “will you marry me” while you’re down on a knee as if you’re begging her to say yes to you. 

And don’t get me started on the term soulmate…

A bunch of Hallmark propaganda made to fuck you over in the end when she hired the most expensive lawyer money could buy to take you for everything you’re worth. 

Again, it was all bullshit wrapped in a bright red bow, served on a silver platter beside your balls that you willingly just handed her. 

I know what you’re thinking. Who hurt me, right? What happened to me? Who broke my heart? What’s my origin story for being so cynical at only twenty-five years old?

Well, the truth was my parents were still married, and the generations before them were too, but let’s get one thing straight right off the bat. Marriage in my family was simply a business transaction of who would further your career. 

Your reputation. 

Your lifestyle. 

Especially your finances. 

I came from a long line of successful actors and actresses. Decades of A-list celebrities who won multiple Oscars and Academy Awards were merely the shoes I had to step into. 

There wasn’t a decision to be had on my part. 

I was born to be an actor, whether I wanted to be or not. But not just an actor—I was born to be a star. The walk of fame was basically my family’s legacy. Handprints of blood, sweat, and tears followed each footstep as you walked down the monumental sidewalk. 

It was more than a calling for me—it was a blueprint for a future I had no choice but to say yes to because I was Nicholas Aires III.

My parents were icons. 

We weren’t just rich. We were generationally wealthy, which meant we had two very different statuses in the world of the elite. My family was a staple in the industry and in the lifestyle of the rich and famous, setting the bar incredibly high for those whose moments would eventually come. 

Everything in this business was a moment in time. 

The past. 

Present. 

Future. 

You were as good as the movie or television show you had out. 

End of story. 

As much as cancel culture existed, there was still a high demand for second chances in the incredibly toxic, self-absorbed LA town. People loved a good comeback story. It made strangers feel as if we were just like them, and becoming relatable overnight was the only straw I had left to grab. 

Despite being labeled the bad boy of Hollywood from the second my balls dropped. I’d never been in trouble quite like I had been these past few months. I was born a trust-fund baby, and you’d think that would have made life easier for me. 

Not in the Aires legacy. 

It was the exact opposite. 

The pressure to get my shit together was at an all-time high, basically burning into my skin by my management team and family. If I couldn’t get this to work, I’d be fucked six ways till Sunday. 

Out of nowhere, my career depended on America’s sweetheart agreeing to be my love interest for the next Blockbuster, a romantic drama movie hitting the theaters on Christmas. 

Bailey Pierce-McGraw.

She was everything I wasn’t. 

Proper. 

Composed. 

Polite. 

Little Miss Goody Two-shoes could do no wrong in the limelight. She was the highest-paid actress for the past few years. Not to mention, her father and stepfather were legacies in their own rights. And don’t get me started on her grandfather, who descended from a bloodline of outlaw bikers. 

All of this was who she was to the world and to her family…

To me, I knew the girl she was behind closed doors. 

The one who was my first everything, and I do mean everything—on- and off-screen.

Seven years later, she was now my only hope.

Except it wasn’t about getting her to agree to co-star with me. It was about getting her management team to approve. At the end of the day, it didn’t matter what we wanted to sign the dotted line for; our management teams would always have the last word on where our career turned and whether we said yes or no to the project. 

And at the current moment in time, the world thought I was a recovering drug addict, fresh out of rehab a couple of weeks ago. That couldn’t have been further from the truth. Don’t get me wrong, I did my fair share of partying. I was young, and the world was literally at my fingertips. I might as well be dead if I wasn’t taking advantage of it. 

However, my recreational drug use was far from a problem. That didn’t stop me from going down in a blaze of glory, making Bailey the only reason I was in this bullshit narrative to begin with. 

She owed me. 

Big time. 

Now, if we could just get her management team to agree to have her play the role, she’d be my second chance at saving what was left of my career. The deadline to begin filming was quickly approaching, and I needed her to be my love interest. 

When the truth was, after all these years, she might have been the one who got away…

Shit, maybe that was the beginning of my origin story?

I didn’t have too much time to think about it as I walked into the seven-figure wedding I had no business attending. I wasn’t invited, and I was only there dressed in a black suit, trying my best to blend in, because I needed a favor from a man who owed me one. 

Self-made billionaire Elias Sinclair was my last resource of actually making this happen, or I’d be up a creek without a paddle. His wife, Capri, was Bailey’s publicist, and if anyone could convince her team to let her costar with me, it’d be her. This couldn’t have been worse timing. 

The man just got married in their home, for fuck’s sake. 

Yet there I was, waiting in his office, trying to pretend I wasn’t anxious about his response to my demand. But you know what they say—“No good deed goes unpunished.” 

It was time to pay the piper. 

I eyed the wall art in his office as I waited for him. A one-of-a-kind canvas stared back at me, reminding me so much of my father’s office. There was something about men in power and art. The more exquisite the piece, the more you had to kiss their asses. 

It wasn’t until I heard the clicking of Elias’s dress shoes and then him stopping dead in his tracks that I turned around to face him. 

The second we locked eyes, he cocked his head to the side. “Aires?” he announced, fully aware of why I was there in the first place. 

With my hands in the pockets of my suit jacket, I didn’t hesitate to speak with conviction…

“I’m here to call in my favor.”

Chapter 1

Bailey

Four Months Ago

“James keeps staring over here at you,” I told my best friend Alexis. 

They just broke up not even a week ago, and it was the talk of the Hollywood town, but that wasn’t surprising, given who they were. 

Alexis was a top supermodel. James was the son of a music icon, similar to my dad, who was the singer and lead guitarist for the legendary rock band Life of Debauchery. 

Alexis and James had been together for almost a year, and in celebrity time, that meant at least a decade. Relationships didn’t last in this town. There was too much temptation—both on- and off-screen. 

Of course, that didn’t apply to me. I wasn’t allowed to be human and make a mistake. I basically grew up in front of the public eye, and fans from all over the world felt as if they had raised me. On top of the fact that I was a Jameson and my mom’s side of the family used to be 1 percent outlaw bikers until my granddaddy stole it out from under his old man’s thumb, changing the path of our lives. 

My mother married into money, though. My stepdad was the NFL quarterback of his time, and if my rock star father wasn’t pressure enough, I was raised by my stepdad and mom until I was nine years old when all of a sudden, my world was turned upside down and inside out. My biological father unexpectedly entered my life. I had been a fan of his music way before I learned the truth about who he was to me. 

Ever since then, the press had known everything about my life professionally and personally. My first audition was when I was ten years old, and right from the start of my career, I was lucky to be chosen as one of the kids of a new show catering to other adolescents called The Kids Club. Along with a group of ten other people from the ages of ten to fourteen, I was thrown into the spotlight, and all eyes were immediately on us from the second we stepped onto that live audience stage. 

The show blew up internationally overnight, and our faces were everywhere. From that point forward, my life was never the same. Some said I grew up too fast, while others said I didn’t grow up fast enough. I tried my best to be the good girl the world expected me to be. Instantly, I was labeled as a role model for my peers without me having one say about it. My management team rode my ass, and truth be told, I put food on the table for a bunch of people, and it was one of the things that kept me up at night. 

It wasn’t just my career that I provided for, and I took that very seriously. 

The only time I could let loose and try to act like a normal twenty-five-year-old was exclusive, low-key parties like the one we were currently attending. Phones were taken at the door, and thank goodness for that. 

I didn’t have to worry about someone snapping a picture or video of me that would go viral on social media or be sold to the press for a shit ton of money. I couldn’t tell you which one was worse. Both included me as front-page news, which was why I had to protect my image at all costs. 

“Good.” Alexis smiled, bringing me back to the present. “I hope he’s regretting letting the best thing that ever happened to him go.” 

I smirked, shaking my head. “You broke up with him.” 

“Yeah,” she confidently admitted. “And he didn’t fight for me.” 

I loved her certainty on who she was and what she deserved. Alexis didn’t give a shit about what anyone thought about her, but she didn’t have to. She was a high-end model, living in the fast lane lifestyle expected with that title. The woman constantly traveled for runway shows and campaigns from LA to Timbuktu. Her schedule was packed with jobs, and her socializing at events was what she did best and how she found endless work. 

This town was also nothing but connections. It was all about who you knew and, in some cases, who you blew. The casting couch wasn’t a thing of the past. They were just better at hiding it now. Everyone wanted a piece of you, and it was hard to distinguish the good from the bad. 

One of the best things about Alexis was that she wasn’t a cunt, and yes, I used that word. Finding a friend like her was extremely hard to come across in this industry. Along with being used and everyone seeing you as a threat or competition to their own careers, it was rare to have a friendship like ours. 

I’d been sitting in that number-one spot of highest-paid and in-demand actress for years. It was only a matter of time before I was knocked off that pedestal, and I wasn’t dumb enough to believe anything different. 

Everyone had an expiration date in this town, and sadly, it was run on youth. Some had been able to gracefully age into the industry, and all I could do was hope that my IMBd would eventually speak for itself. Every step I took was precise and calculated by my team and me to maintain at the top. I wouldn’t go down without a fight. I worked too hard to get there and had no plans of dropping the ball anytime soon. 

My circle was small, and I preferred it that way. 

Answering Alexis’s question, I glanced back at James. “If the expression on his face is any indication, then he’s more than regretting it.” 

“Do you think this dress”—she gestured to herself—“is getting his dick hard?” 

I giggled. “I think your dress is getting every guy here hard.” 

“Fabulous.” She beamed, whipping back her long blond hair. “It was the vibe I was going for.”

We were at a Hollywood Hills party with A-list guests only. I was dressed more low-key than her, always wanting to keep a low profile no matter where I went. Unless it was an award show or an appearance and then I was dressed in nothing but couture, designed specifically for me to wear.

I was in a high-waisted nude pencil skirt with a tight black crop top and nude ankle pumps with red bottoms. I left my wavy brown hair down, framing my high cheekbones, and went heavy on the black eye makeup with a bit of blush and vanilla lip gloss.

For the next hour, I sipped some champagne with Alexis by the pool overlooking the LA lights and stars. When I needed to clear my head, I’d go up Mulholland Drive and sit on the hood of my car for hours on end. I’d get lost in the city of dreams and loved every second of it. I was constantly working on one thing or another, and it was nice to have a place I could escape to where nobody demanded something from me. 

“Hiiiiii...” Alexis greeted, walking over to someone I didn’t care for. 

I internally rolled my eyes as I abruptly turned around and slammed face-first into a solid muscular chest that felt like a brick wall while my drink spilled all over the front of my outfit. 

“Shit,” a deep voice spewed as I leaned forward from the cold champagne assaulting my warm skin.

“Ugh!” I grumbled, not paying any mind to the man I crashed into before I rushed toward the first bathroom I could find.

“Hey!” he called out behind me, following me into the bathroom. “Let me help you.” 

Before I could oblige, he grabbed the towel by the sink and started patting the champagne off my chest. 

What the hell?

Tearing the towel out of his grasp, I countered, “I got it.”

“Right,” he replied with a sudden anxious tone that made me peer up at him through my long thick lashes. 

I sucked in a light breath when I locked eyes with the guy I least expected. 

Surrendering his hands in the air in front of him, he acknowledged, “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to cop a feel.” 

I mindlessly stood there for a few seconds, not knowing how to proceed with him. 

“You okay?” he asked, snapping me right out of it.

“Yeah.” I shook off his apology, looking down at my soaked outfit instead. 

“Oh!” he chimed in. “I got it!” He quickly jumped into action, opening the cabinet under the sink. 

Once he had a blow-dryer in his hand, our eyes connected again for the second time in years. Our intense stares didn’t match the lightheartedness of our situation, and within seconds, we bursted out laughing hysterically.

“How did you know that was going to be in there?” I questioned, catching my bearings.

He shrugged. “Lucky guess.” 

“Yeah, so it seems.” I grabbed the blow-dryer out of his hand. “I don’t think this will save the stain in my skirt that’s already setting.” 

“You’re probably right.” He stepped away, rubbing the back in his head. “I didn’t see you standing out there. You know,” he teased with a nod. “Despite your six-inch heels, you’re still pretty short.” 

My eyebrows rose. “I resent that. You’re actually still a giant.” 

“I’m just a growing boy at six-four.” 

“There’s nothing boy about you anymore.” 

He smirked, leaning against the counter. 

“I mean…” I shook off the unease of the effect he’d always have on me. “This isn’t how I thought we’d eventually run into each other.” 

Cocking his head to the side with a wicked grin, he asked, “You still think about me?” 

Immediately feeling called out, I cleared my throat and turned on the sink faucet. After I sprayed some water on the towel, I stated, “I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“Then how did you mean it, Bay?”

Bay… why did he have to use that name?

I squeezed out the water from the towel. “I just meant it nonchalantly, that’s all.” 

“I see.” He paused for a second. “Did you forget I know you like to fidget when you lie?”

I swallowed hard, nervously chuckling before turning to face him again. “What is this? Fifty questions?” 

In the blink of an eye, the heady expression on his face was almost too much to witness. With a pointed regard, he shamelessly eyed me up and down.

Unable to hold back, I blurted, “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

He didn’t falter in replying, “Because you’re gorgeous, Bay. You’ve always been a beautiful girl, but now…” His stare raked over me again. “Now, you’re just stunning.” 

I scoffed, shaking my head. “Charming as ever, I see.” 

He arched an eyebrow. “Is that what you think I’m doing? Charming you?” 

“No,” I said with certainty. “I think you’re flirting with me.” 

He chuckled, pushing off the counter. “There she is. I always preferred it when you were feisty. You’ve always been too nice for your own good.” 

He was right. 

He was always right. 

Especially when it came to me.