Bound to Love

Bound To Love

Three dates with a Hollywood Billionaire, Book Three

By

Emma Lyn Wild

Title Page

Copyright Page

Bound To Love (Three Dates With a Hollywood Billionaire, #3)

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Further Reading: Bound To Him

Also By Emma Lyn Wild

About the Author

When Cassie refuses to give Troy up, she gives him the courage to go on with the play that’s not working for him. The previews are a disaster, and it looks like Troy’s charismatic costar will take all the laurels.

Then he gets an offer. A door that he thought was closed opens again. He can go back to Hollywood and back into the superhero franchise that made his name. Back to the life he knows, of movies, money—and paid escorts.

Cassie can’t do any of that. She loves her job, and everything about it, except the money. An unpaid intern job at the museum is fine, if you have money. Cassie doesn’t. She’s a small town girl from mid America with big dreams. Then her only discretion comes to the media’s attention and threatens to bring everything down around their ears. Their love, his career, her dreams—everything.

There’s one way Cassie can save him, but it will break her heart. No contest. Troy needs this, or he’ll break.

––––––––

C
assie

Standing in his dressing room at the theater, my body still thrumming with the hot sex we’d just had, I stared at Troy, dumb with shock.

He wanted to carry on? He’d used me, insulted me and then apologized. Even I knew that was typical abusive behavior. I couldn’t believe I was giving him another chance. I was like an addict—one more time and he would make it right.

He held out his hand. I crossed his dressing room and took it, but not without hesitating first. “This your last chance, Troy. I mean it.”

“Thank you,” he said, blue eyes suspiciously bright. “I promise I’ll tell you what’s wrong. All of it. Come back to my place and we’ll talk. Do you have to get to work in the morning?”

I nodded. “I’ve nearly finished the Roman pavement. Steve says he has another job lined up for me.”

“For an intern, he keeps you damn busy. Do you want me to talk to him?” As his father was a big donor to the New York Museum, my boss Steve would listen to Troy. But I didn’t want that. I shook my head. “I don’t want any favors.”

His mouth flattened. “I can understand that. Go get a shower while I dress. Or do you want to wait?”

I thought of my careful makeup, and what my hair would do if I got it wet without serum and spray. I shook my head. “I’ll grab one when I get home.”

He drew me closer, clasping my hands, gazing down into my eyes. “You’re calling my place home?”

I shook my head. I had to be strong. “Not yet.”

His expression lightened. “Then you’ll come back. I promise I’ll tell you why I behaved so badly, but I need time. I can’t do it in a hurry, and I can’t do it here. If we stay holed up much longer, they’ll think we’re never coming out. I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I have a few things to do before we can get out of here.” He dropped a kiss on my forehead. “You know what I did back there?”

Outside the stage door, when he’d kissed me. It had been brief, but enough to tell the media we were together. If that hadn’t done it, he’d kissed me earlier, at the museum, in front of a group of schoolgirls with smart phones. “Yes. You went public.”

“I did it earlier because I felt good. I did it just now because I was scared. I don’t want to lose you, Cassie.”

“If you don’t tell me why you treat me like this, I’m walking.” I meant it, although doing it would break my heart. I’d probably have to face the media, something I didn’t know how to do properly. Somebody like me, museum intern and waitress, didn’t have the money to employ somebody, either. They’d pull me apart unless I could think of something good. Or tell my story, as people had done with Troy before.

No, I wouldn’t do that, however much money they offered. I had my pride, after all. Barely. I had to admit, Troy had paid for that, too, in a way. When I’d met him, I was on a date with a sleaze called Witley. I was working as a paid escort, in an effort to pay off the worst of my student loan. The bank had threatened to sue me for the money. Troy had tipped me a thousand dollars. That didn’t mean he owned me, though.

The trouble was, I was falling in love with him. The real Troy, not Troy Cooper, Hollywood star and now Broadway actor. Just Troy, the funny, sexy, volatile man. But that volatility had its dark side and he’d just demonstrated it to me.

This was the second time he’d offered me money to go away. And the last. I wouldn’t take the money this time, but I’d sure go away.

He dropped his towel and dressed quickly, then glanced in the mirror and smoothed his dark hair back with his hands. Since he had it short to fit his role as Mark Antony in
Antony and Cleopatra
, that meant his hair settled into place immediately. He looked immaculate, dressed in dark navy pants and a crisp blue shirt, Rolex watch and no tie. He shoved his wallet and phone into his pockets, slung the jacket that matched his pants over his shoulder and held out his hand for me.

I had looked in the mirror and despaired. I was wearing black pants and white shirt, and tonight I had my black-framed glasses on, because I’d wanted to see the play properly. I had no idea he’d ask me to come backstage and face his fans with him. Before tonight nobody knew about me. Now the whole world would know. All I could do was reapply my lip gloss and hope for the best. I couldn’t even pretend that nobody would look at me. I could pass undetected in a crowd with no problem at all, in fact I had to struggle to make anybody look, but that was before I started dating Troy. And before he’d decided to kiss me twice in one day in front of cameras.

“They won’t be kind to you, because they’re not kind to me,” he said as I slipped my hand into his. He closed his larger hand around mine, surrounding it with warmth.

“I know. But all you need to do is date somebody else and they’ll forget me in a week.”

“There’s only one problem with that scenario,” he said. “I don’t want to.”

He opened the door and we went outside.

Whatever peace we’d had in his dressing room was shattered as soon as we went outside. How many people had heard our knee trembler against his door? Because the hallway was crowded. People rushed forward, but thank God nobody with a microphone. A woman chattered at Troy and his phone rang. He slid it out of his pocket, but didn’t answer it, just cut the call. A black-suited man with an earpiece came forward and fell into step behind us as Troy led me past the people, nodding to some, and exchanging a few words with another, but not stopping. I’d never known Troy to have security before. He bent to murmur in my ear. “Don’t worry, it’s just for the theater.”

Then we went outside.

If I’d thought the inside of the theater was chaotic, the outside was ten times worse. A great cry went up, and girls surged forward, only held back by the fence.

I had to admire Troy’s professionalism in the next half hour, as he signed programs and posed for selfies with the fans. Several asked him if he was going back to Hollywood to play superhero Foxman, but Troy gave them the same version of “Wait and see” that he’d told everybody else. I was shoved and ignored, until the big security guy came to stand on my other side and protect me a bit. I sent him a mouthed “Thanks,” but he was too busy fending off fans to acknowledge me.

Troy put his arm around my shoulders as we cleared the fans and reached the press. They stood in a bunch with high powered cameras and mics, yelling questions. He ignored them all, except to give them a wave on his way past. Speeding up, he swung into the back of the waiting car, and held out a hand to help me in. The security guy slammed the door and slapped the roof.

Troy tipped his head back and let out a long sigh. “It’ll get better. This is a six week run with an option for six months, so I can’t see more than the hard core of fans turning up every night.”

I pressed his hand. Now, in the back seat of a car with one-way windows, he looked exhausted. I hadn’t noticed the shadows under his eyes before now. He closed his eyes. “I’ve been walking to rehearsals,” he said quietly. “I guess that has to stop.” He sighed. “I don’t really enjoy this part of fame. Every fan wants a piece of me.”

“They don’t want me.”

He opened his eyes and gave me a wry smile. “That’s the other part I don’t like. Because I want you.”

I forced a smile. The way he looked, I didn’t like it. How could he last six months as Anthony when he looked like this? “So the first night’s nerves are over?”

“First preview over. My costar has a limited time to spend on the project, so we don’t have months of previews like a lot of plays. Two weeks and that’s it.” He rolled his head on the back of the seat and met my gaze. “I’m going to blow this. Then the media will say I’m dead, and I won’t be able to get anything else.”

“Other actors have been through this,” I said. “They got over it.”

He smiled wryly. “A lot went through it and never came back, or ended up as character actors. I don’t want that.”

“Then what will you do?”

He had enough money. For the first time I realized what it might be like to have all the money you’d ever need, but nothing to do. A life to waste. Six months ago I’d have said that sounded like heaven, but since I met Troy, I wasn’t so sure any more.

He shrugged, but kept watching me. His eyes were so sad I’d have done anything to make him feel better. He played superheroes and tough guys, so that look wasn’t something I’d seen very often. He reached for my hand and squeezed it. “You make it better,” he said.

That meant so much to me. I was a sucker, or something, because my heart went right out to him. “I mean it about talking,” I said. I had to stay strong, and his explanation had to be good, otherwise I was walking out of his life. It would break my heart, but I’d do it.

“I know.”

We arrived at his apartment. He thanked the driver, tipped him and then took me inside. Nobody was waiting. It was a discreet building on the Upper East Side, a few blocks from the museum where I worked. At least the fans hadn’t discovered this place. Normally Troy could move around New York with minimum fuss. He didn’t employ a regular bodyguard. But tonight he was on show, doing his public persona thing, and it had opened my eyes to his other world.

Of course I knew who he was and the frenzy he could whip up, but I hadn’t seen it or experienced it.

We went up in the elevator in silence, but he didn’t let go my hand. He led me through his apartment to the big blue sofa and sat me down before he let me go. “Do you need anything?” he said, going toward the kitchen area.

I started to shake my head, but changed my mind. “Do you have any wine?”

“Sure I do.” He got a familiar looking bottle out of the cooler, and I smiled. Oh yes, my lover had a cooler that kept wine at its optimum temperature, as well as a refrigerator and a freezer. I hadn’t even realized there was such a thing. Several bottles of champagne sat in the cooler, too. We wouldn’t be opening those tonight.

He brought over two glasses of the rich, ruby liquid. I preferred red wine, but I hadn’t drunk my favorite for a while. Not that I was a connoisseur, but this was the only wine I’d ever drunk that I really liked. And he’d remembered. Despite my being pissed with him, that gesture touched me.

I took it with thanks and took a sip before turning back to him. “Well?” I asked.

Plucking my wine from my hands, he put it and his on the glass coffee table, then moved to take me in his arms. I leaned my head on his shoulder and met his lips, opening for a deep kiss that made me want to forget everything and just go to bed with him.

I was finding it hard to remember. I planted my hands against his chest and pushed. He lifted his head. “What was that for?”

“Because you might not want me to kiss you again after I’ve told you what I have to.” Releasing me, he moved away until he wasn’t touching me at all. I wanted him back, but he was right. We needed to talk without distraction.

“Cassie, I sucked tonight in the play,” he began.

I couldn’t deny it, not entirely. “You remembered your lines.”

He laughed harshly. “Yeah, I can do that. It’s a trick, that’s all. I can just do it. But those lines just sat there tonight. Sonia Riley walked all over me.”

“Did she scare you?” He was right, his costar was brilliant. Sonia Riley was a British actress who could do most things. She was beautiful, talented and about ten years older than Troy. As Cleopatra, she’d been brilliant.