Chapter 15
fifteen
. . .
Stella
“Honey, I'm home!” I call out as I push through Brandon's door before dropping my keys on his console table.
After eight hours of following my mother through every boutique in Beverly Hills, I'm exhausted, and my feet are killing me, but at least she found the perfect dress for the charity gala.
Brandon and I have managed to act normal around each other since the kiss, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about it more than I should.
“Perfect timing.” Brandon appears from his bedroom, and I have to do a double take. Gone are his usual jeans and t-shirt. Instead, he's wearing dark slacks and a white button-down that makes his shoulders look impossibly broad. His sleeves are rolled up, and yep, his forearms are perfection.
“You're staring, sunshine.” He smirks as he brushes by me, headed for the kitchen.
I blink at him, confused. “Where are you going?”
“We,” he says, grabbing his keys and wallet from the kitchen counter, “are going to a party in the Hills. Wrap party for that new thriller where I doubled in the snow ski scene. You're my plus-one, and I'm going to be your wingman.”
My stomach drops. “Brandon, no. I'm not ready for—”
“Tonight,” he continues, completely ignoring my panic, “you're going to ask a guy out on a date.”
I let out an honest-to-God squeal. “No way! You're out of your mind. I can't just walk up to some random guy and—”
“Fine, then your goal will be to get a guy's phone number.” He moves toward me with that easy confidence.
“And I have to go. My agent friend has been bugging me about showing up to these things.” He raises his eyebrow to match it perfectly with his glare.
It's me. I'm the agent friend that's been bugging him.
“Besides, I don't want to go alone. And this will be the perfect place for you to practice.”
“Practice for what, exactly? Public humiliation?”
He grins, and there's something wicked in it. “Practice for dealing with the worst Hollywood has to offer. These people are so self-absorbed they think a compliment about their shoes is worthy of a standing ovation. They're like emotional vampires who feed on flattery and name dropping.”
Despite my terror, I snort with laughter. “That's horrible.”
“But accurate. Come on, Stella. You could meet the love of your life tonight, or at least get enough practice so you don't feel awkward around Mason next time you see him.”
The mention of Mason makes my resolve stronger. Brandon's right. If I'm really determined to get a boyfriend, I need to be the kind of confident woman who doesn't blend into the background.
“Fine,” I say. “Give me a minute to change.”
Thirty minutes later, we're winding up into the Hollywood Hills in Brandon's car, and my palms are sweating.
The house, when we finally reach it, is one of those sprawling modern monstrosities that looks like it's carved into the mountainside.
Floor-to-ceiling windows reveal glimpses of beautiful people holding expensive drinks.
“Holy shit,” I breathe.
“Language, sunshine,” Brandon teases, but his hand finds the small of my back as we walk to the front door. “You've been to parties before.”
“Not like this.” And it's true. Sure, I've been to industry events with Blair, but this feels different. More exclusive. More intimidating.
The door opens before we can knock, and we're swept into a world of marble floors and dramatic lighting.
The back wall is entirely glass, showcasing a view that stretches from downtown to the ocean, with the city spread out below us like a glittering carpet.
Fresh white orchids the size of my head sit on every surface, and the furniture looks like it belongs in an architectural magazine.
“Try not to look so impressed,” Brandon murmurs in my ear, his breath warm against my skin. “These people can smell an outsider from a mile away.”
But I can't help it. Even after almost six years in LA, even after all the fancy restaurants and premieres I've attended with clients, this still takes my breath away.
“Brandon! You actually showed up!” A tall brunette in a dress that highlights every perfect curve of her body glides over to us. She air-kisses Brandon's cheeks like they're old friends, and I can't help but stare, feeling a subtle twist of envy in my gut. Her confidence is impressive.
“Couldn't miss seeing you,” he says smoothly. “Vera, this is Stella. Stella, Vera's our producer.”
Vera's smile is polite but dismissive as she looks me over. “Nice to meet you. Are you an actress?”
“Agent,” I say, trying to inject some confidence into my voice. “I work with Blair Bennett.”
That gets her attention. “Blair Bennett? She's brilliant. Absolutely ruthless, but brilliant.”
Before I have a chance to respond, Vera's attention is already moving to the next guest, dismissing us with the kind of polite finality that makes it clear our conversation is over.
I'm about to suggest that we find the bar when something catches my eye across the room—a flash of dark hair with purple streaks that I'd recognize anywhere.
“Is that…” I squint through the crowd. “Oh, my God.”
“Is that who?”
“Let's go.” I practically drag Brandon across the room. “Natalie! What are you doing here?”
I can't hide my excitement as I spot my yoga friend near the bar, looking surprisingly at home among the Hollywood elite. She turns, and her face lights up when she sees me.
“Stella! What a surprise!” She's wearing a flowing maxi dress that somehow manages to look both bohemian and elegant, and her dark hair falls in loose waves.
“I had no idea you moved in these circles.”
Natalie's cheeks flush slightly. “I'm just…networking. Learning about the business side of things.”
Before I can question her further, a familiar voice interrupts.
“Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in.”
I turn to find Jake approaching with two drinks in hand, looking much more put-together than he did at Sophia and Grant's wedding. His hair is actually styled, and he's traded the dark circles under his eyes for a bright smile.
“Jake!” I hug him quickly. “I didn't know you'd be here, either. Do you know Natalie? Natalie, this is Jake. He works with Wyatt and organizes the ever-famous Manmorial Weekend.”
Jake extends his hand to Natalie, and there's a beat where they just look at each other, with some kind of electric recognition passing between them that makes me feel like I'm interrupting something. “Nice to meet you, Natalie.”
“Likewise.” She takes his hand, and I swear there's a little spark when they touch.
“I didn't see my invitation for this year's event,” Brandon interjects with mock offense.
Jake grins. “Hey, if you could find a woman and settle down, you'd get an invitation. That's what Manmorial is all about—attached men getting away for some bonding time.”
“Maybe the rules change this year?” Brandon asks, and there's something careful in his tone.
Jake's expression flickers. “Touché. I guess you are right. I am single now.”
“Oh,” Natalie says, her voice softening. “I'm sorry. Breakups suck.”
Jake shrugs, trying to play it off. “Yeah, well, these things happen.”
“But hey,” Natalie continues with a mischievous glint in her eye, “that means Brandon would be eligible for Manmorial this year, right? Since he and Stella are dating now.” She shoots me a quick wink that makes my stomach drop.
Jake's eyebrows shoot up as he looks between Brandon and me. “What? You two are dating?” His gaze settles on Brandon with newfound interest. “When did this happen? How did I miss this?”
Brandon clears his throat, and his hand finds my lower back. “You didn't miss anything. We're not actually dating.”
“My mom's visiting,” I say quickly, lowering my voice. “And I may have told her I had a boyfriend to get her off my back about setting me up. Brandon's helping me out by playing the part until she leaves.”
“Ah.” Jake nods with understanding. “The fake boyfriend situation. Classic.”
“They make a cute couple, though, right?” Natalie says with a grin, looking between us. “I mean, you two do have great chemistry.”
Jake studies us with amusement. “You know what? She's not wrong. You two actually seem pretty natural together. No way this could turn into something real?”
“No,” Brandon and I say simultaneously, maybe a little too quickly.
“Come on, let's get a drink, and we can talk more about Manmorial weekend.”
Before Brandon can protest, Jake is already steering him toward the bar, leaving me alone with Natalie, who's trying very hard not to look smug.
“What was that?” I hiss.
“What? I'm just helping maintain your cover story,” she says innocently. “Besides, I thought you'd want people to know you're dating Brandon. Isn't that the whole point?”
“No, it's not the whole point. We're only doing this for my mother's benefit.” I watch as Jake gestures animatedly while talking to Brandon.
“You're enjoying this way too much,” I mutter.
Natalie grins. “Maybe a little.”
We slip right back into our usual rhythm of trading updates, dissecting who's here with whom, and whispering commentary that would absolutely get us blacklisted if anyone overheard.
While Natalie waits on the bartender to mix her another drink, I glance across the room and spot Brandon talking to a group of women—actresses, by the look of them—and they're hanging on his every word.
“You okay?” Natalie asks, waving a hand in front of my face.
“Fine,” I say quickly, snapping my eyes away from the love fest. “I was just observing.”
“Observing Brandon work his magic?” Natalie asks with a slight smile.
“He's supposed to be teaching me how to be more confident with men.”
Natalie snorts. “That's not confidence. That's a master class in seduction. The man's got game.”