The Actor’s Attraction (Crystal River Billionaire Brothers #4)

Prologue

VICTOR

It’s late morning when I finally decide to leisurely get out of bed.

The blonde girl lying beside me doesn’t stir when I move. She is fast asleep – her breathing a mere soft brush against my bare skin. I don’t give her a second’s thought as I slide out from the bedcovers and stand up tall to stretch.

I’m naked. I don’t care if the world sees me like this, and for good reason. I spot myself in the hotel suite mirror and smile to myself.

Yeah, I really don’t give a shit about the world seeing me when I look like this.

I can’t help but admire the simple fact that my body is something special: I possess a physique primed and ready to grace the front covers of magazines. I have a well-defined six-pack. Perfect pecs. Bulging biceps. It has taken a lot of time and effort in the gym to have a body such as this – my Penmayne family genetics also helps a hell of a lot in that department.

I let out a long yawn of an unhurried man and glance back at the blonde girl in the bed. She’s still wearing makeup. She’s still fast asleep.

God, I can hardly remember her.

I do remember she was good in the sack, though. Very satisfying. I had a good night, and it is evident, with her still in deep sleep, that she did as well.

Yeah, we got drunk as hell last night.

Rubbing my tired eyes, I stumble through into the main living room of the penthouse hotel suite and pour myself a coffee. As with many things in life, I like my morning brewstrong. I like the extreme.

I’ve been staying here, in this luxurious suite, for a few days now. Truth be told, I can’t remember exactly what city I’m actually in. I don’t really care to find out. My life is one of constant international travel, so I’m always in and out of different countries and different hotel suites and different cars and different women. It all becomes one blur.

The life of a world-famous actor...

Taking a sip of the hot coffee, I switch on the TV. There’s some news show playing – a hum of boring chatter and a flash of colorful graphics. I barely pay any attention to it as I stroll around the space, stretching out my arms and trying to wake the hell up.

It must be midday.

Ha. There’s nothing on for me today. No obligations. No responsibility. No work. That’s the benefit of earning enough dough to fill a football stadium, and from having a billionaire family. With no stresses of cash-flow, I have all the time – and the confidence - in the world.

The news show changes to a commercial break.

And then something familiar starts playing.

I don’t even have to look at the screen to know it’s the trailer for the new movie I’m in. An action-drama flick. I sigh and glance over to the TV.

Might as well catch a look at myself in action.

I’m wearing a tuxedo. My black hair is slicked back. My blue eyes are vibrant. There is a closeup of my face as I deliver a line in my deep, resonating voice – my sharp cheekbones and visible Adam’s apple on full display.

That is why I’m paid the big bucks.

I punch a guy. There’s an explosion. I say something incredibly clever to a gorgeous woman.

It’s all very... Hollywood.

I do all my own stunts.

And it’s sure to be the big multiplex hit of the summer.

Even with my vanity, I can’t bear to watch myself any longer. I turn away.

And I remember what happened yesterday, and the phone call I got that kick-started a night of debauchery - my agent called me and let me know I wasn’t nominated this year for the biggest acting award in showbiz. That phone call cut me hard. Getting that award is the biggest goal in my life. It’s why I got into acting in the first place. It’s the only thing I have my eyes set on.

And I didn’t even get freaking nominated.

What a joke. At my expense. The industry is laughing at me.

That call with my agent set off a chain reaction that led to me getting intoxicated at some social media influencer party downtown where I met the girl that’s currently sleeping in my hotel bed. I needed an escape. I needed to get out of my own thoughts. I needed a blowout.

I don’t even know the girl’s name.

I groan and take another sip of caffeine. The commercial break ends, and it’s back to the news show. Now they’re on to celebrity gossip. I hear my name mentioned and I perk up.

They’re talking about me.

“Well, he is a Penmayne, and that means he was born into money,” one host says, a woman with black hair and a face caked full of makeup. “And everything else that comes with a last name such as his.”

“Victor Penmayne: who wouldn’t want a life like his?” her co-host, a bald man with too much Botox in his forehead, asks rhetorically. “To be handsomeandrich. What a combo!”

“And he grew up with six other brothers in a small town while their dad made the money.”

“That’s a lot of brothers...”

“But he has one crazy reputation,” the female host continues. “To many people, Victor Penmayne is a famous actor, but he is also well-known for his reckless antics. It is no secret he’s a playboy bachelor, with many women freely coming and going from his front door, stirring gossip left, right, and center. He courts the media. His dating life is very public and very much on the record.”

“Well, it’s no wonder why he wasn’t nominated yesterday for best actor,” the male host remarks. “Everyone can see why he was snubbed. It’s clear no one on that judging panel would take a bad-boy billionaire seriously with a reputation like that. Those judges prefer to see themselves as a prestige institution and would not want to include a playboy like Victor Penmayne in their ranks. They want clean and respectable actors, not tabloid fodder.”

“Certainly not,” the female host says. “The head judge said as much in an interview yesterday...”

Before she can finish her sentence and I can hear the stinging words of the head judge, I switch off the TV and aggressively throw the remote onto the couch.

Screw them, and screw that judging panel.

I can’t believe I wasn’t nominated.

I’ll need to do something about it, but right now I need to get pleasured.

“Victor? Victor?”

Just woken up, the girl in the bed is calling for me.

Perfect timing.

Those hosts think I should no longer sleep around? That I should beclean?Respectable?

That I shouldn’t indulge my playboy ways?

I put down my coffee and head back toward the bedroom. Screw stretching -thisis going to be a good way to properly wake up and forget about all my troubles.

As I stroll towards the blonde in my bed, I smirk to myself. I’m never going to get myself seriously involved with a girl.

I’m having way too much fun for that.