The Masquerading Groom: Bachelor Billionaire Romance Read online

  “Sterling.”

  Turning, Sterling saw Caleb. Wearing a tux and no mask, Sterling couldn’t help but think he looked tan and relaxed. Apparently, fishing was where Caleb had met the redhead. All Caleb had told him was that his date had cancelled and he’d offered a girl ten grand for three hours.

  Caleb stepped to the side, revealing his date. The dress she wore was black sequined. It was long with a slit to her knee, hugging her body in all the right places. She wasn’t overly endowed anywhere which was nice. She had a cuteness to her face, a smattering of freckles he could see under the makeup that gave her a girl-next-door kind of look. The mask was red, covering her eyes only, and matched her hair and shoes. It gave her a hypnotic look. He found himself wishing he could take the mask off and get a better look at her.

  Caleb’s face cracked into his agent smile. It was one Sterling saw on a regular basis. Caleb was an expert at reading people and relationship handling. It was a big part of what made him such a good agent, if a bit pushy. Sterling admitted to himself, with a tad of reluctance, he’d never regretted hiring Caleb.

  “Sterling.”

  He stood.

  “Meet Sayla Jones.”

  Caleb turned to Sayla. “Miss Jones, meet Sterling Pennington.”

  The side of her lip turned up, and she put her hand out to shake his. “Mr. Pennington.”

  For a second, Sterling was impressed at her curtness. Women in Hollywood circles would be throwing themselves at him by this point, doing the kiss–one-side, kiss-the-other-side French thing. He took her small hand inside of his. “Nice to meet you, Miss Jones.”

  Their hands held for a brief moment, and he found himself absorbed by her bright green eyes.

  Deliberately extricating her hand from his, she turned to evaluate the party. “Three hours, that’s the deal, right?”

  Sterling let out a surprised chuckle at her frankness.

  Caleb cleared his throat and looked nervously at Sterling. “Uh—yeah.” He turned to Sterling. “Okay, she’s here until midnight. Then she turns into a pumpkin.”

  She frowned. “I’ll be waiting for the limo.”

  Sterling was put off at the tone in her voice, acting as if this was her set up and she was stuck with the annoying cousin or something. “Oh-kay.”

  The green eyes turned and focused on him briefly before turning away.

  Caleb let out a half laugh as he left. “Smile, have fun.”

  “Wait.” Sterling called after him.

  He turned back. “Yes?”

  Sterling gave him a help me, scrunched-face kind of a look, but he had been raised in too polite of society to have bad manners. “Can I talk to you for a second, please?”

  Caleb took three steps back. “Yes.”

  Sterling gestured a few paces away. He gave Sayla a side smile. “Uh, just one sec. I have a private matter to discuss with Caleb.”

  Sayla shrugged.

  Sterling muttered under his breath. “Really? You leave me with a woman who can’t wait to get this date over with?”

  Caleb snorted in a breath, giving him the stubborn look he used when he wouldn’t let Sterling out of something he didn’t want to do. “I told you the date from L.A. cancelled. I met her at the marina.” He tugged at the neck of his tux. “It’s not like there’s a lot of choice in Jackson Hole, Wyoming.”

  Something didn’t feel right. “You’re not telling me everything.”

  Caleb sighed. “Listen, apparently, she needs some kind of surgery or something.”

  The word “surgery” set off too many warning bells in his mind. All he could think about was how many “surgeries” his mother had before she died.

  “Don’t look like that.” Caleb warned.

  “Like what?” Sterling rubbed at the neck of his own tux, wishing he’d found some excuse for getting out of this night. Maybe he could fake some illness or something.

  “Don’t get all white in the face and sick to your stomach. This isn’t … her.”

  If Caleb hadn’t softened the word and used such a respectful tone, Sterling might have given him a face full of fist. But Caleb knew what his mother had meant to him. He’d helped him through a couple of dark months when she’d passed two years ago. Truthfully, Caleb had been more of a brother to him than his actual brother Nathan, who had seemed to recover without a hitch and never missed a day at his father’s law firm. When he’d spoken to Nathan about having a hard time dealing with her death, his brother had told him their mother had been sick for a long time, and he needed to get over it.

  Caleb reached out and took hold of his elbow. “Are you okay, man?”

  Rubbing his hands over his face, Sterling tried to refocus.

  “You have to hobnob with Harold tonight.” He took a step closer, whispering in Sterling’s ear. “He’s producing that movie in October. This is the time to make your play for co-director, remember? We didn’t go through all of those months of directing that artsy film you displayed at Sundance last year for nothing.”

  “I know the playing field.” Sterling put on a movie star smile to get back his movie star mindset. Yes, he wanted that. He’d wanted to make and produce movies since high school. Originally, it’s what attracted him to theater—directing. He’d directed a few plays in high school and college, but he’d been swept up in commercials after college, and the rest was history.

  He’d co-directed with a friend of his last year, and it had felt like a huge accomplishment to get it into Sundance. Now, it was time to go big or go home.

  This was his chance. This was his art. Being able to look at a scene, the character’s struggle and make it what it should become. To put it all in macro form and make all the micro fit seamlessly together. Maybe that’s why he owned a gallery—because it was a way of showcasing more than a picture. It was a way of showcasing a person’s soul. He wanted to do that in directing. Every actor and writer knew if you had the right director, then you had the right movie.

  The way a viewer screened a movie, the things they felt, had everything to do with the right director.

  It was an area you couldn’t buy your way into, well, not unless he bought a production company, which was an idea he’d toyed with. But he wanted to be the guy who earned success, not the one who went out and bought it. He wanted Harold Swenson to pick him.

  When people went to see a movie directed by Sterling Pennington, they would see art at its finest.

  He blew out a breath. “Yep, I need tonight.”

  Caleb nodded his agreement and took a step away from him. “Yes, you do.” He cleared his throat. “How is your father’s … condition?”

  This almost jolted him, but he pushed away the anger and replaced it with aloofness. “I guess he’s fine. He’s making a play for the Senate it appears. My brother graciously texted me earlier.”

  Caleb was tight-lipped. “Can you keep your head on straight tonight?”

  Sterling decided it was best to slip into a leading man role for the rest of the night. The kind who charms the lady and, in James Bond fashion, kisses her goodbye and goes off to save the world. “Forget my father. I’m fine.”

  Caleb frowned at him. “Oh my gosh, you just slipped into Nicholas didn’t you?”

  Narrowing his eyes, thinking about how the character, Nicholas, would handle the situation, Sterling gave him a cool guy chin up kind of gesture. “I need to get back to the lady. We’ll rendezvous later.” So what if it sounded cheesy and stupid? He needed to hold onto something at the moment. Or someone that wasn’t himself. One night. Dance. Smile. Do the show and go home. No complications. No neediness. Nothing. It would be perfect.

  Caleb hesitated. “You don’t have to save her either.”

  “What?”

  Caleb pointed at him and kept his voice tight. “You like to save women. Don’t do that with this one.”

  Sterling frowned at him. “I think you need to remember who pays who.”

  Caleb shook his head and pushed away from him. “I’
ll see you later.” He disappeared into a sea of people.

  Taking a closer look at Sayla, he found his character’s thoughts in his mind. She was hot in her sequined dress and the mask added a hint of mystery. Her red hair flying in the wind could belong to Medusa’s snakes. Maybe she was Medusa, he thought. At just that moment, she gave him a look that could surely turn Sterling Pennington to stone.

  But he wasn’t Sterling anymore.

  He was Nicholas. “Is something wrong, dear?” he asked.

  She didn’t reply immediately. She just turned back to look at the crowd dancing below deck.

  Shaking her head, she let out a breath. “I shouldn’t be here.”

  He hesitated.

  Sayla turned to him. “Well, should we dance?”

  “I don’t know, shall we?” He cocked his brow.

  Her lip turned upward. “I was hired to be your date, right? I think that includes dancing.”

  Expectation filled the space between them, and he let out a sigh. One more night playing make-believe. He was a pro. He had spent his whole life acting. One more night wouldn’t matter. “Of course.”

  Chapter 3

  Did Sayla feel like a hired date? Yes.

  What was she doing at this hoity-toity rich people party? Nervously, she touched the end of the fitted princess cut dress with a slit so high she worried it would rip all the way to her waist.

  Idiotic. That’s what this all was.

  A date with Sterling Pennington.

  Even though she’d only taken this gig for the money, she couldn’t deny being up close and personal with this man put her slightly off her bad attitude game.

  Sterling didn’t really look the same as he did on camera. If it was possible, he looked better. His lips spread wide to reveal his perfect Ken Barbie teeth.

  Striking was the perfect word to describe this man. Closing the gap between them and looking composed, he led her down the steps and onto the dance floor.

  Nervous butterflies thrummed into her gut. Then guilt and Rob’s face flashed into her mind, but she’d prepared herself this morning after staring at Wikipedia and reading his bio.

  She could do this. Rob would want her to do this. Get the money. Have the surgery. Go on her trip. In that order. Done.

  It was divine. The whole thing was nothing short of a miracle.

  Pushing back the emotion that nearly filled her eyes with tears, she put on what she knew was a rubbery smile.

  Taking her by surprise, he stopped in the middle of the dance floor and gently pulled the back of her hand to his lips, kissing the top. It was pure debonair actor Sterling Pennington action hero, a gesture that said let me climb a building and save you from a giant ape.

  Her first instinct was to rip her hand back, but she let him kiss it and inhaled the citrus scent of his cologne. It probably cost more than the ten grand she’d be getting paid for attending this masquerade party.

  Dropping her hand, he scanned her body and gave a slight nod. “You look stunning, Miss Jones.”

  His use of her last name was a sharp reminder that this night was disconnected from her life. That’s right. They weren’t friends. She would never meet him again after this. All she had to do was the exact thing she was sure he was doing.

  Act. Pretend.

  She could be whatever she wanted, whoever she decided to be. The agent had told her it would probably be best to pretend. Use of last names made it better, less personal.

  The side of his lip tugged up, and he gently pulled her in and led her in a three-beat dance. She was put a bit off-kilter by his movie star act. Even though she’d anticipated being star struck, she hadn’t anticipated his arresting good looks and the intense manly smell of his cologne unsettling her so badly. Once again, she thought of dancing with Rob on their wedding day on the makeshift dance floor his father had installed for the party. She blinked and focused on the cool ten grand she’d stashed in Henry’s safe at the marina.

  Sterling seemed to be floating. The band played a soft ballad, and she easily fell into step with him, pushing out another memory of taking dance classes with Rob. No. No. No. She would not think of her dead husband right now. No.

  Conversation. That would distract her. “Er … so I saw your father is considering a run for senator.” Small talk. Yes, she could do this.

  For a second, all his movie star bravado seemed to fall away. “So it seems.” His voice had taken on an edge that confused her.

  “Oh.” Growing up in foster homes, she understood subtle edges in the voice of conversation. At the moment, he was sending off rockets of anger.

  “So, Miss Jones.” He put on another face, what she recognized as an over punctuated smile. “Tell me about yourself.”

  For some reason, she found his niceties funny. C’mon, don’t pull punches, she thought. She was here because his agent was paying. Big time. “Hmm, let’s see. Normally, I’m a guide in Rome. My specialty is the Coliseum, but I’m back in Jackson summering. The Roman weather can be terrible this time of year.” She spoke with an air of richness and elitism.

  She could tell he was confused, not knowing if she was telling the truth or not. Even so, he didn’t miss a beat. “Rome is one of my favorite places. Some of the best art in the world is there in the Vatican.”

  “It is.”

  “You must be an expert if you’ve been giving tours.”

  “I am.” She nodded before quoting the guidebook she’d recently read during her shift at the marina. “Did you know the power of the Pope was so strong that all the best statues were taken inside of Vatican City to put on display for the holiest of holies? And for the Emperors of Rome, of course.”

  “I did.” The side of his lip went up. “What did you think of Nero’s bathtub? The color is amazing, isn’t it?”

  Sayla didn’t remember reading about Nero, let alone a bathtub or its color. For a fraction of a second, she didn’t know what to say.

  Visibly, he changed, becoming softer. “Nero is one of my favorite villains in history. Burning the city in order to make room to build his new home on the old capital. Brilliant, wouldn’t you say? Nero is the epitome of a good villain. All the characteristics of betrayal.”

  Realizing he was allowing her to save face, she nodded. “Nero is an interesting deconstruction of our current political empire.” She had no idea if that actually made sense, but she used to tease Rob about saying the word “deconstruction” all the time in polite conversation. He’d been a high school teacher and coach. It was funny to her when he used big words. She never imagined her teasing would actually help her pretend to be someone else’s date one day, but she kept a firm, confident smile on her face.

  Sterling seemed to relax, and as the song ended, he kept her in his arms. “Another dance?”

  She began swaying in time with him. “Only if you want to hear more boring stuff about Rome.” Trying to keep the stilted front alive, she let him lead her into a version of the cha cha.

  His lip quirked. “Fascinate me, mademoiselle.”

  It occurred to her that he was playing a specific part. Some role she may have seen him play in another movie, but she couldn’t quite place it yet. She continued, keeping up the ruse. “Have you heard the story of Julius Ceaser, Octavious, and Mark Antony?”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “I’m sure I should have read the Shakespeare play, but I can’t remember it. Does it include Cleopatra?”

  She grinned. “Any good story includes a beautiful woman.”

  This made him laugh. “Truth.”

  “Do you want to hear it?

  His grin widened. “Pray tell.”

  Sayla had read this story only a few nights ago, and she’d found it intriguing. “Okay, Julius Caesar was the Emperor of Rome. He was loved by the people but hated by the politicians. In fact, during a meeting of the Republic, the other members stabbed him twenty-six times. It was vicious.”

  Sterling narrowed his eyes. “Really?”

  The hackles on the back
of Sayla’s neck pricked up as she continued. “The head of the military Mark Antony, and Julius’s nephew Octavius swore to the citizens of Rome they would have vengeance on all of the senators. So they hunted them down and killed them all. During this time, Octavius came to power as the next in line to Emperor. Soon, rumors came out of Egypt that Julius Caesar had sired a son with Cleopatra. The rumors caused such a stir within the people that Octavius was worried about his right to power being threatened.” Conspiratorially, she leaned in closer to Sterling. “So Mark Antony volunteered to go to Egypt and find this so-called heir to the throne … and kill him.”

  Appearing interested, Sterling leaned in too, copying her conspiratorial tone. “And what happened?”

  “When Mark Antony got to Egypt, he was quickly taken with Cleopatra. She had him under her spell in no time. It was rumored that Mark Antony got addicted to opium and started wearing makeup and women’s clothes.”

  He frowned. “Really? A Roman general?”

  She nodded, loving the fact she was sharing this story with someone who should already know this story. “I can’t believe you haven’t heard this story. You’re a movie star for heaven’s sake.” She added a bit sharply.

  His grin widened.

  She continued. “It gets better. After three years, because you have to remember that travel was a lot different back then, Mark Antony’s wife went to Egypt to tell him to come home. But he sent her away. He actually stayed with Cleopatra in Egypt.”

  “No.”

  “The kicker is that Mark Antony’s wife was Octavius’s sister.”

  Sterling stopped dancing for a second, but kept her in his arms. “That doesn’t bode well.”

  She laughed. “So Rome went to war with Egypt. Basically over a woman. Over the seductress Cleopatra.”

  “Wow.” Sterling started into the steps again. “You were right. That is a good story. It has all the necessary components—a beautiful woman, betrayal, and war.”