Hollywood Heir (Westerly Billionaire Book 4)

  ALSO BY RUTH CARDELLO

  WESTERLY BILLIONAIRE SERIES

  Up for Heir

  In the Heir

  Royal Heir

  LONE STAR BURN

  Taken, Not Spurred

  Tycoon Takedown

  Taken Home

  Taking Charge

  THE LEGACY COLLECTION

  Maid for the Billionaire

  For Love or Legacy

  Bedding the Billionaire

  Saving the Sheikh

  Rise of the Billionaire

  Breaching the Billionaire: Alethea’s Redemption

  Recipe for Love (Holiday Novella)

  A Corisi Christmas (Holiday Novella)

  THE ANDRADES

  Come Away With Me

  Home to Me

  Maximum Risk

  Somewhere Along the Way

  Loving Gigi

  THE BARRINGTONS

  Always Mine

  Stolen Kisses

  Trade It All

  A Billionaire for Lexi

  Let It Burn

  More Than Love

  TRILLIONAIRES

  Taken by a Trillionaire

  Virgin for a Trillionaire

  TEMPTATION SERIES

  Twelve Days of Temptation

  Be My Temptation

  BACHELOR TOWER SERIES

  Insatiable Bachelor

  Impossible Bachelor

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Text copyright © 2018 by Ruth Cardello

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Montlake Romance, Seattle

  www.apub.com

  Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake Romance are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

  ISBN-13: 9781503903845

  ISBN-10: 1503903842

  Cover design by Eileen Carey

  This book is dedicated to my niece Valerie and her little girl, Viv. No matter how far we wander, family always finds a way to bring us home. Thank you, Val, for bringing me home.

  Contents

  Start Reading

  Westerly Family Tree

  A note to my readers:

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Don’t Miss a Thing!

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  Westerly

  Family Tree

  (D): stays with Dereck after the divorce

  (S): stays with Stephanie after the divorce

  A note to my readers:

  What is a water bear?

  Water bear bugs (a.k.a. tardigrades) are eight-legged creatures that live in water and are said to be able to survive even an extinction-level event. They would not only survive without water for thirty years but also in the vacuum of space. They are popular enough in some circles that people sell plush-toy replicas of them.

  I may have to give one to my children, just to see their expressions when I do. Water bears—so ugly they’re cute.

  Chapter One

  “Sorry it took me so long to get here—traffic was a pain. What’s the emergency?”

  Sage Revere motioned for her best friend, Bella, to sit across from her at a small table in a busy London coffee shop. She pushed a cup of black coffee across to her. “He’s not here yet, but he will be. He comes every day just about this time.”

  Bella took a seat and lifted the paper cup to her lips, blowing on the hot liquid. “I should have known this wasn’t urgent. We need some kind of code in case you actually need me one day.”

  “It is urgent. I need you to look at him and tell me why I can’t get him out of my head. Today. Before this goes further.”

  “Is he a potential client?”

  “I don’t think so. He haunts me, though. Does that make sense?”

  “No, but I’m used to this side of you,” Bella suggested with a knowing smile. “You’re cursed with a gift. Instead of seeing dead people, you see unhappy rich ones. What’s his issue? Did he just win the lottery and lose all his friends? Is he retiring from a lucrative, cutthroat career and discovering he’s alone? Don’t worry, whatever it is, you’ll find a way to bring him around. You always do.” Her voice was thick with but I love you anyway sarcasm.

  “I don’t think he has money.”

  Bella sipped her coffee. “He must. Your radar doesn’t work for unhappy poor people.”

  Ouch. Sitting back in her chair, Sage crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re in a mood today.”

  “Sorry.” Bella leaned forward and placed a hand on Sage’s arm. “I have a lot going on at the office. And I know I sound like a jerk sometimes, but someone has to keep you grounded. You’re not psychic.”

  “I never said I was.”

  “The people you help usually deserve to be alone.”

  “That’s a horrible thing to say. To love and be loved—isn’t that what life is all about? What could be more important? And you know as well as I do that money doesn’t make anyone as happy as they think it will. You were miserable before you met me.”

  Bella sighed. “I was ten.”

  “I helped guide you. Admit it, you’re a thousand times happier working in law than you would have been running your mother’s cosmetics company.”

  “Why are you making a case for yourself? Are you about to do something that I’ll have to defend you for in court? You’re not stalking this guy, are you?”

  “Of course not. Well, not technically. Does coming every day when I know he’ll be here constitute stalking?”

  “It could—depends on whether he becomes one of your clients or takes out a restraining order against you.”

  Sage’s attention was drawn to the door. “That’s him.”

  By the time Bella turned in his direction, he was faced away, ordering a coffee. “Nice ass. Nice back. I’m going to go out on a limb on this one and say that your fascination has less to do with how he feels and more with what you’d like to feel—those quads. At twenty-six, it could even be your biological clock. Either way, damn, that man sure knows how to fill out a pair of jeans.”

  “Wait,” Sage said.

  He turned, as if he could sense them looking at him. His temple and cheek were darkened with a thick layer of cover-up that didn’t fully conceal a scar that ran down both. Whatever had happened to him had disfigured one side of his face, leaving it rounder and painful looking. A somber gaze met Sage’s briefly before he turned away again.<
br />
  Bella said, “What happened to him?”

  “I wish I knew. He looks so lost, doesn’t he? He sits alone, finishes his coffee, then leaves without talking to anyone.”

  Bella waved a warning finger. “Be careful—you don’t know how he got that scar. For all you know, he earned it.”

  “Or maybe not. I want to go over there and hug him.”

  The man looked up from the table he’d chosen and met their attention with a glare.

  “I wouldn’t advise that. That’s a man who prefers to be alone.”

  “No one does. Not really.”

  Bella touched her arm again, pulling Sage’s gaze back to her. “I know you have a good track record for leaving people better than you found them, but you were right to ask me about this one. Don’t get involved. My gut tells me his scar isn’t his biggest problem. On the other hand, I have a neighbor who recently bought a fourth Maltese. Why don’t you visit her and see if you can find out what emotional hole she’s trying to fill with canines? That’s more your style, not this guy.”

  Sage shook her head, sending her ponytail flying back and forth. “Everyone comes into our lives for a reason. Maybe this is a sign that my radar is evolving. Lonely is lonely, no matter how much or how little a person has. He needs me.”

  “You realize if you start taking on financially challenged clients, they won’t be able to pay you. When you chose independence from your parents, you chose all the bills that came along with that.”

  “I can take on other clients while I work with him. This will be pro bono. If I do it right, he’ll just think of me as one of his friends.”

  “You brought me here for my opinion. It’s no. Emphatically—no.”

  “I can’t accept that—”

  Bella took out her phone and snapped a photo.

  “What are you doing?” Sage asked.

  Bella replaced her phone in her purse. “If this guy hurts you, at least now I have a photo to show the police.”

  The man rose, crushed his coffee cup in his hand, and threw it in the trash. Sage stood. “He saw you take the picture of him.”

  “Good.”

  “No, not good. What if he doesn’t come back because of it?” Sage looked from her friend to the retreating man. Great, now we embarrassed him. “I’ll call you later. I have to speak to him.”

  “Sage,” Bella said.

  Sage paused a few feet away. This wasn’t the first nor would it probably be the last time she went against Bella’s advice, but she was still glad she’d included her. Sage was used to following her instincts when it came to people. Those instincts were what led her to reach out to complete strangers on a regular basis. She was beyond caring what others thought of her self-designed career choice. Bella’s comment about seeing sadness only in the wealthy stung a little, but Sage had been born into money. That didn’t mean she didn’t care when others were in pain. She worked substantial philanthropy into every happiness plan she designed. When it came to helping people on an individual level, however, she was drawn to the ones she knew how to heal.

  My gift? Bella had once accused her of compulsively helping people find happiness because she hadn’t yet found it herself. Which might explain why, despite how many people I’ve helped, Bella is my only friend. She thinks I’m so afraid of being left again that I put an expiration date on how long I let people get close to me. She may be right. I care about people deeply, but then I always walk away.

  None of that changed the fact that she felt compelled to help one angry-looking man find his smile again.

  “Be careful,” Bella warned.

  “Always.”

  “Call me later, and don’t you dare go anywhere alone with him.”

  “I won’t,” Sage promised as she rushed out of the coffee shop and onto the busy sidewalk. The man’s long stride had taken him a good distance. She darted between people to catch up with him. When she finally did, she said, “Excuse me.”

  He kept walking, not sparing her a glance.

  Sage wasn’t easily deterred. She doubled her pace to keep up with him. “I’m sorry about my friend.”

  He stopped then, and she came to a skidding halt beside him. His eyes burned with anger. “Who are you?”

  She held out her hand, then lowered it when he didn’t shake it. “Sage Revere.”

  He leaned closer and growled, “Whatever you want, I’m not interested.”

  Rather than intimidate her, his warning had her cheeks flushing and her heart racing. All pity for him melted away beneath a slam of attraction. “Do you have plants?” she blurted out.

  He scanned her face. “What?”

  “Plants.” Of all her introductions, this ranked as one of her least polished. She took out one of her business cards and handed it to him. “I’m a plant psychologist. Botanist extraordinaire.”

  He took the card and inspected it before asking, “Is this some kind of joke?”

  “No joke. I can give you references if you’d like.”

  “Thanks, but no thanks. I don’t have any plants. The shrub over there is looking a little sad, though—perhaps you should counsel it.” He tried to hand the card back to her, but she refused to accept it.

  He wasn’t the first to start off thinking she was crazy. Admittedly, it was an odd career choice, but it was also a nonthreatening cover that allowed her into the homes and lives of people who needed her. She reminded herself the delivery method didn’t matter as much as the message. “It’s a scientific fact that plants are good for people. If you’re not happy for some reason, buy one. And then, if you have any questions about how to care for it, call me.”

  He pocketed her card and leaned closer, so close she thought he might kiss her. His breath caressed her lips. “Stay the hell away from me.”

  He turned on his heel and walked away.

  Sage watched him go, knowing it wouldn’t be the last time she saw him. That wasn’t the way this worked.

  Bella appeared at her side. “Let him go, Sage. I’ll give your card to my neighbor. She has bearberry bushes that I’m sure you can convince her are depressed.”

  Eric Westerly entered his studio apartment and slammed the door behind him. He strode to the bathroom to inspect himself in the mirror. It pleased him that his features still reflected how he felt: hideous, damaged.

  He traced his fingers along his prominent scar and the altered shape of that side of his face. His rehab counselor had warned him that recovery would be a process. They’d assured him, though, that a normal life was possible.

  What’s normal?

  Am I capable of recognizing it?

  Or even deserving it? He slammed his fist down on the bathroom counter. I need to be more careful. If those women recognized me—. A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.

  “You in there?” a familiar voice demanded.

  Eric crossed the room to let him in. “I told you not to come here.”

  Reggie, his employee and friend, breezed past him as if he’d been invited. “I can’t do it anymore. I can’t handle your grandmother’s beady little eyes. You have to come back. She’s staring into my soul.”

  “No,” Eric said as he closed the door. “Not until I’m ready.” There was a time when Reggie, his wife, and his two children were not as openly a part of his life. Reggie had moved them into an infrequently used wing of Eric’s home. Once Eric had fully acknowledged the agreement, it had brought him the closest thing he had to a family. Alice, Reggie’s wife, could always be found chasing her children: Axton, a precocious twelve-year-old; and Liana, his pint-size six-year-old sister. Their antics had given Eric’s empty home new life—but that wasn’t enough to get him to return.

  Reggie looked him over and shuddered. “I’ll never get used to your face like that.” He walked around the room, kicking the legs of the threadbare furniture. “Honestly, I don’t see the appeal of this place, either.”

  “You don’t need to. I don’t expect anyone to.”

  Afte
r wiping crumbs off the cushion of a chair, Reggie sat. “You are one fucked-up dude. What’s it going to take for me to convince you to give this up?”

  Eric shrugged and pocketed his hands in his jeans. “I am not going back yet, Reggie. I can walk down the street here without being followed. No one wants anything from me. Most people don’t even look at me.”

  “You taking anything?”

  “No.”

  “Not even to sleep?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Prescription?”

  “I’m clean.”

  “Your phone rings constantly.”

  “Turn it off.”

  “You sure you don’t want it?”

  “There’s no one I want to talk to.”

  “Not even your sister? I thought you were getting close.”

  “Rachelle is married with a baby on the way. She doesn’t need my stuff on top of all that.”

  “I told the studio you were in Vandorra for a few weeks doing some Vandorran stuff. I don’t know; I made some shit up. They seemed to accept it.”

  “I’m not concerned about them.”

  Reggie sighed. “Don’t kill yourself. I really like my job, and my kids enjoy living in your house. They might even love the pool more than they love me.”

  Eric smiled with wry amusement. “I’m glad they’re happy there. They’re good kids. Don’t worry about me, Reggie. I’m just taking a break.”

  “I’m working on a surprise for you.”

  “I don’t want anything.”

  “You need this even if you don’t know it yet. It’s expensive, though. Keep that in mind when you check your bank balance.”

  “You know I don’t care about that.”

  “You should.” Reggie shook his head as if disgusted and looked around the small apartment again. “Is this the life you really want?”

  “I don’t know yet, but that’s what I’m here to find out. Not everything I heard at the clinic rang true to me, but one thing did. It wasn’t even from one of my counselors. It was an older man who was there to break an addiction to pain medication. He asked me why I was there, and I told him the truth—I didn’t know why. Maybe I needed to say it out loud. Anyway, he said every life was a gift, and if I couldn’t see that anymore, it was time to make a change—a drastic one. I asked myself what I wanted, and here I am.”