Loving Riley: Celebrity Series, #2

By Liz Durano

To his fans, Ashe Hunter is the perfect man, the classically trained British actor taking Hollywood and Broadway by storm.

To his American girlfriend, Riley Eames, he is a man in love who'll do anything to keep her safe from the prying eyes of paparazzi suddenly digging into her life.

But to someone from his past, Ashe is her ticket to Hollywood fame and she'll do anything to get what she wants even if it means tearing down the image he built for himself ever since he left her.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Velvet Madrid
• Release date: Apr 26, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386738503

Book preview

the perfect gift

Ashe Hunter was normally prepared for anything. If there were a zombie apocalypse, he’d have almost everything ready: food rations, water, a weapon and even a book, preferably about survival, given how dependent he’d become on his phone.

It was one thing he’d learned growing up on a farm which had stayed with him, long after he’d moved to London to work as a model and then actor. Even when he’d moved to Los Angeles to try his luck in Hollywood, he was always prepared… until now.

For the first time, Ashe had no idea how to impress his girlfriend on their first Valentine’s Day together. It wasn’t as if he’d never celebrated it with anyone before. From his first date with redhead Priscilla Morton when he’d only been twelve and she thirteen to last year’s very public date with actress Isobel Reign, at thirty-two, Ashe considered himself a pro when it came to Valentine’s Day.

Yet no one else made him feel like a giddy schoolboy quite like the barista who’d stolen his heart when they’d become trapped in a hotel elevator in Midtown Manhattan.

Riley Eames.

He’d just finished a full day of press and had been dying to get some fresh air. Riley had wanted to leave the hotel before anyone recognized her and told her older sister, Paige, that she had gone to see her ex-boyfriend even though she’d promised she wouldn’t. It hadn’t happened because Riley had changed her mind the moment she got to his floor, tucked the keycard into her purse and stepped back into the elevator. Who would have thought she’d end up trapped with Ashe Hunter, Hollywood’s latest star?

He remembered the way she’d looked at him, so unlike most women. Some would gush while others would look away, only to turn their heads and hold his gaze more boldly. They might ask for a selfie or eye him up like that evening’s dessert. Sometimes they’d drop their business card or napkin with their phone number. But that evening inside that elevator, Ashe was just another guy in an elevator.

She had no idea who he was.

He’d been caught off-guard by her reaction and had offered to rub her sore feet—him, an Englishman! Her naïveté had charmed him, and when she agreed to let him tag along to dinner, Ashe couldn’t remember a time when he’d been so happy since his younger sister had died. By the end of the evening, when he’d walked her up to her studio apartment on the Upper West Side, Ashe had been smitten, even more so when she’d refused to give him her phone number.

Long after that night, he kept thinking about her. He could have put her out of his mind and recovered from the slight to his ego with any of the women whom Reign Studios sent to his suite each night during the press tour of Europe. By the time he’d got to Paris on the third day, though, he’d made a decision: no more women, not until he’d found her again and asked if he could call her.

He had done so. For the last five months, whenever he hadn’t been filming movies on location, doing interviews across the globe or sitting through meetings in Los Angeles, Ashe had spent every moment he could with her and here he was now, wondering how the bloody hell to impress her on Valentine’s Day. What present could he give her, other than jewelry she’d never wear or first editions of her favorite books?

Spoil her.

Ashe didn’t need to turn and see who was speaking. Gareth Roman was standing behind him, the ex-boyfriend Riley had intended to visit on the night Ashe had met her. Standing too close, in fact, craning his head to see what Ashe was looking at.

Stop acting like a child, said Ashe as he pulled out his phone and snapped a photo of the view in front of him. With clear blue skies and no sign of smog, the city of Los Angeles looked beautiful. Once upon a time, he had lived here but now home was New York, where gossip correspondents didn’t lurk at every corner within Hollywood’s ten-mile zone, and most people barely gave him a second glance.

Lighten up, dude. Man, you really should have taken those women upstairs last night. They were fucking hot for you, replied Gareth, laughing when Ashe glared at him. Hard to believe the annoying man with the tousled blond hair was one of Hollywood’s hottest actors, ranked in the top twenty earners of the year. He had another three movies coming out over the course of the year, including Alabama Rain, an independent film that Ashe had written and whose songs were owned by his company, Rowan Productions.

They’d already spent the last two days in each other’s company, in talks during the day to reprise their roles in their hit movie, Sentience, and as co-presenters at an award show the previous night. Social media loved them, and PR gave the impression that they were good friends, as they had been before Ashe had met Gareth’s ex-girlfriend. The perfect bromance, the magazines declared.

I mean it, man, persisted Gareth as Ashe’s phone beeped. He lifted his index finger to request silence and answered the call.

Did you like it, petal? he asked, turning away from Gareth even though he knew his deep voice carried far. He could hear the sound of people talking in the background, the familiar whizz of a coffee grinder, and Riley’s laughter.

What are you doing, sending me photos of sunny days when it’s freezing cold over here, and there’s a snowstorm coming? That’s just mean, Riley said. And you know I have an employee policy of not using phones at work.

But you’re not an employee. You’re the boss.

The boss should set a good example. Anyway, you’d better not be sending me pictures of you by the pool.

Is that a hint? A request, perhaps?

Well, maybe you should. It’s been four days since you went away and I’ve missed you. I bet you’re surrounded by gorgeous women wherever you go over there.

Ashe chuckled. She wasn’t too far off, but her timing was terrible. I don’t know about that, but right now I’ve got an annoying friend whom I suspect may be eavesdropping on our conversation.

As Ashe spoke, Gareth made no effort to hide the fact that he was eavesdropping, leaning toward him to hear more. Ashe walked away, lowering his voice as he continued. I miss you.

I miss you, too. But shouldn’t you be working?

I’m waiting for reporters to arrive, then later I’ve got meetings.

Well, I won’t keep you but thank you for the picture. I would have preferred a selfie, though. I hate it when you make me wait.

You’ll have the real thing tomorrow night, Ashe murmured, glaring at Gareth who reappeared next to him.

You’re bad, Ashe.

Methinks the lady doth protest too much, he said.

Okay, I’ll wait for the real thing. Riley paused, listening as someone said something in the background. I have to go. We’re getting slammed.

As Ashe said goodbye, he imagined Riley in her signature vintage T-shirt and jeans underneath a Library Café apron, her long blonde hair secured in a neat ponytail. Tonight she’d stay past her regular work hours, leading her monthly book club meeting at the coffee shop. She wouldn’t return home until after ten, which meant that he probably wouldn’t get another chance to talk to her. He had engagements until midnight, and she’d be asleep by the time he was finished.

I was serious about that, Ashe, Gareth spoke from behind as Ashe tucked his phone into his jacket. Spoil her for Valentine’s Day.

You don’t give up easily, do you? Ashe returned his attention to the view outside the windows as they waited for reporters to arrive. Though Sentience had been out in theaters for the last three months and promotions had ended a month earlier, the science fiction movie had just been nominated for two technical awards, which meant a few more weeks of promotions and campaigning. With Ashe headlining the Broadway staging of Coriolanus in the coming weeks, most of the promotions would land on the shoulders of Gareth and Isobel Reign.

Besides, why would I listen to you? You’re the one who abandoned her in New York and let your manager⁠—

"Correction: our former manager. We fired her together, remember?"

For the next three years, Riley watched you become famous and date every actress within a ten-mile radius of the Hollywood sign, wondering what the fuck she’d done wrong that you’d just left her without a word of explanation or the decency of a phone call.

Gareth shook his head. Just hear me out, all right? I fucked up, okay, but she’s with you now, and I know you’ll treat her right.

And your point?

Just spoil her for Valentine’s. I could never afford anything back then, and unless she had another boyfriend after me, she⁠—

She hadn’t.

—then she probably just bought herself roses. Sunset orange ones with reddish tips. If you ask her what she wants, she probably tells you that you don’t need to do anything for her or give her anything special, but that’s only because she’s not used to receiving anything, especially after her mom died.

Ashe knew about the roses but not enough about her mother because Riley rarely talked about her without retreating into herself afterward.

What can you tell me about her mother?

"She was amazing. Riley was her little princess, and Mrs. Eames would have given her the world if she could. She made little things for her. She loved to make stuff by hand until she couldn’t manage it any more. She even made a book, complete with illustrations. It was called The Adventures of a Little Girl Named Riley. She used to read to us from that book every night when I used to stay over—when my dad would come home drunk. Riley had bunk beds in her room, and I took the top bunk."

How old was she then?

Gareth shrugged, his brow furrowing as he tried to remember. Maybe seven or eight. It even looked like a real book, you know, with front and back covers. It was really cool, and she loved it. I mean, who wouldn’t? She was the star of her own book, and that little Riley had major adventures all over Manhattan. Her mom was amazing. I wish you could have met her. Classy lady.

Behind them, a woman told reporters to take their seats around a conference table and set up their recording equipment.

Do you know where I can find this amazing storybook? Ashe asked, knowing that if Riley had it, he’d have known about it by now. Everything that had belonged to her mother was on one shelf in her apartment, treasured classics that still smelled of smoke and mildew.

Glad you asked, Gareth replied, chuckling. I was just talking to my dad this morning—oh, and get this: he says paps are sniffing around the neighborhood again for stories about me and⁠—

Stick to the point, Gareth. Behind them, Ashe had noticed that the reporters were almost ready.

He told me Ri’s old man is retiring and so he’s taking his stuff out of the office, and he said there was some picture book in the filing cabinet that had Ri’s name on it. That’s got to be it. There’s the catch, though. You’ll have to ask her dad.

At the mention of Riley’s father, Ashe looked out the window. He shouldn’t feel the way he did about Sid Eames, but he disliked the man. Riley was only ten years old when she and her mother, who was in a wheelchair, had been trapped in their apartment during a fire that had started next door. By the time the firefighters found them, they were unconscious at the bottom of the stairs. Riley had managed to drag her mother down the steps, but they’d both passed out when they’d reached the first landing. While Riley recovered from the effects of smoke inhalation and a burn along her arm, her mother died from complications caused by her long battle with multiple sclerosis.

Now, years later, Sid Eames still blamed Riley for her mother’s death. It didn’t help that he was drunk most of the time and that his rages made no sense. Ashe knew how much his words still hurt her. The last thing he wanted to do was to pay Mr. Eames a visit, though he’d made up his mind that for her he’d do anything.

Gentlemen, said the woman behind them, snapping Ashe back to the present, they’re ready for you.

Both men nodded and turned to look at each other as if they’d just shared some private joke. Ashe and Gareth had become friends while filming Sentience the year before and had maintained that friendship even though there’d been a few tough moments. Thankfully, they had mostly happened away from paparazzi lenses.

Look, why don’t I call him? Gareth said as they turned away from the window.

Call whom?

Her dad. Ask him about the book.

No, thanks. If I’m going to inquire about the book, I’ll ask him or Paige myself. Thanks for letting me know, Ashe replied as they made their way to the conference table.

You’re welcome.

Oh, and Gareth?

Yes? Gareth asked absently as he ran his fingers through his hair, creating the signature ‘Gareth Roman’ look that reminded people of a modern James Dean.

Let Riley go.

Ashe knew that the two reporters behind them were watching their exchange carefully. Maybe they’d begin their articles about how the two men’s relationship seemed cold or professionally distant, reinforcing the rumor that both men hated each other’s guts for taking the other’s ex-girlfriends. After all, Isobel Reign, their costar in Sentience, had dated Ashe for a year before they’d broken up and was now Gareth’s girlfriend.

But Ashe couldn’t complain. Rumors not only sold newspapers and advertising but it also kept them in the news, kept them ‘fresh,’ as their former manager used to tell them.

You know I can’t do that, Gareth said, exhaling. I’ve got to make it up to her somehow.

You don’t have to. Let her go.

Thirty minutes later the interview was over, and the reporters filed out. Ashe pulled out his phone. With two more meetings and an industry party at Reign Studios, he knew he’d be too occupied to think of anything else but work. He texted his florist and ordered an arrangement of long-stemmed red roses to be delivered to Riley at the Library Café and typed a reminder about the picture book into his Notes app.

He smiled, a feeling of satisfaction washing over him at the thought of the book still existing and in good condition. True, there was only a faint hope that the book really did exist. After all, Gareth’s father could have seen any old picture book. Still, he had to try.

After all, Ashe Hunter was always prepared.

his lucky day

Ashe had no doubt that getting his hands on the illustrated book would take some effort, even if it had survived the fire all those years ago. He didn’t want to ask Paige about it if he could help it.

Though Riley spent one afternoon a week with her nephews, five-year-old triplets, Thomas, Trey and Trevor, the sisters were still estranged after Riley had discovered that Gareth had fathered her sister’s children.

Riley had realized that she couldn’t punish her nephews for what had happened and deprive them of her company. Paige, on the other hand, was a different matter. Someday the two sisters and Paige’s husband, Clint, would be friends again. Riley just needed time to come to terms with it. Ashe thought Riley would find it difficult to be friends again with the family who had betrayed her and hidden it for years, but he understood why she would want to.

Riley had no one else.

Ashe had to admit that he was too busy to be there for her all the time. Even though he’d decided to play the lead role in Shakespeare’s Coriolanus on Broadway so he could spend more time with her in New York, this meant endless rehearsals until opening night in two weeks’ time. Already ticket sales had exceeded expectations. Ashe had learned from the box office that the show was ninety per cent sold out, with no plans to extend the run as he was due to fly to Australia to shoot his next movie after a short break.

But Ashe wasn’t the only one with a busy schedule. Riley did, too. She certainly wasn’t sitting at home waiting for him all day. She attended business classes two afternoons a week in addition to managing the Library Café, and that didn’t include the time she set aside for studying and homework. She’d sacrificed her college education to work two jobs when she and Gareth lived together so he could go to his auditions, but now things had changed. Ashe wanted her to pursue whatever she wanted.

Still, if it weren’t for Lance Purefoy and Ben Stafford, his best friends and new managers, Ashe wouldn’t know what he was doing next. Riley said it sometimes felt as if Lance lived with them, his phone call every morning waking them up with Gran’ mornin, ‘a eur theur!

Riley had got used to her daily dose of Ashe’s native accent, along with the realization that it wasn’t an easy matter to run the business that was Ashe Hunter.  Behind the image of the affable actor and the deep voice that sold everything from luxury cars to cognac, it was all business all the time.

Now, as he stood in front of a run-down two-story house in Jackson Heights an hour after landing at JFK, there was nothing of the actor in Ashe’s bearing. He was simply the Yorkshire sheep farmer who had done well and was about to do something he’d never thought he would do, at least not without Riley beside him.

Gareth had orchestrated the meeting through his father, who was still friendly with Sid Eames. He wouldn’t tell Sid who was visiting, just that someone wanted to talk to him. It would be up to Ashe to do the rest. Gareth would have liked to give him more information about Riley’s father, but Ashe refused. If there was anything he needed to learn about Sid Eames, he would find out himself. He was grateful to Gareth but didn’t want to owe him any more favors.

For a few moments, Ashe stood outside the door, his finger on the doorbell. He should have called to let the older man know he was coming, he thought as he withdrew his hand. Despite Gareth’s insistence that Sid would be open to talk about the book, it might be best to give him more notice. As Ashe turned away, the door swung open and a tall man appeared, his belly straining at the buttons of his thermal checked shirt.

Hey, kid! Saw your nifty car out in front and figured you might as well come in and get out of this cold. Guess you’re after information just like the rest of them, right?

Ashe stared at him, baffled. What information?

Come in and make yourself comfortable and you can ask me whatever you want, Sid said, not hearing what Ashe had said. It’s cold out here.

As he spoke, Sid stepped aside and Ashe walked in, shut the door and sat down on a worn armchair facing a flat-screen TV. Empty beer cans overflowed from a plastic trash can next to him, and on the coffee table were two cold cans of beer.

Want one? asked Sid.

No, thanks, Ashe replied in an American accent, an impulsive decision. He wasn’t quite sure why he’d chosen not to speak in the accent he’d acquired when he’d made London his home, but learning that other people had been here seeking information had caught him off guard. Who had come by, and what had they wanted to know?

It was evident that Sid didn’t recognize him, with the wool cap hiding his hair and the beard he was now sporting. He’d also donned thick-rimmed glasses after he’d removed his contact lenses at the airport lounge to avoid being followed by any paparazzi.

Well, what do you want to know, young man? Sid asked, covering his mouth with the back of his hand as he coughed. I really shouldn’t be talking to you about Ri, but as long as you’re paying, why the hell not? Everything costs so much these days.

Ashe stared at him. Paying for what?

He leaned forward, propping his elbows on his lap. I heard that her mother made a book for her. I wonder if I could see it?

Sid stared at him quizzically. Now, how the hell did you know about that? Then he waved his hand. What does it matter, anyway? How much will you pay for it?

Ashe suddenly wanted to hit ‘rewind’ on the whole scene and start over. He wanted to introduce himself properly and tell Sid that he’d heard of the book from Gareth, but it was too late for that. Just how many souvenirs had Sid sold to reporters?

That depends on its quality.

Oh, it’s good quality, that’s for sure. I confiscated it from her when she misbehaved. She was always getting in trouble, Sid said, shrugging. Didn’t know her mama made it for her until I saw it up close, so I brought it with me to the garage to show it off to the guys. I must have left it there because that’s where I found it, inside my office, and finally brought it home on account of my retirement.

I’ll need to see it.

All right, Sid grunted as he pushed himself off his chair and Ashe stood up to make way.  He watched Sid disappear into his bedroom, listened to the sound of a closet door opening and closing, before seeing the man reappear with something in his hand.

Here. Sid pulled the book from a grocery shopping bag and handed it to Ashe. You tell me how much you wanna pay for that. Don’t even think of running off with it. I’m still fast, you know, even if I don’t look it.

Ashe was surprised to see his hands tremble as he slowly opened the book. It was one thing to remember how Gareth had described it and another to see for himself that it really did exist, something a mother had lovingly made for her daughter. The only things that Riley had left of her mother were the old books recovered after the fire. They still smelled of smoke and mildew, but nothing in the world would make Riley part with them.

The handmade book was bound together with neon green yarn, stitched through punched-out holes along its left side. The front and back covers were of thick cardboard, cut from the lid of packing boxes. The inside pages were of construction paper and on each page were four lines of prose, accompanied by a drawing of what appeared to be little Riley and a teddy bear named Boo. One page showed them climbing up a mountain, the next page had them sledding down its snowy slope. Another page showed little Riley with even wider eyes in the semi-darkness and then sitting on the lap of a woman in a wheelchair as they flew over Manhattan.

Ashe’s chest tightened at the sight of the Empire State Building. In the distance, symbolized by two gray vertical lines, were the World Trade Center towers. Millie Eames was