Shards of Glass: A Free Hollywood Romance (The Glass Trilogy Book 1) by Arianne Richmonde

Author:Arianne Richmonde [Richmonde, Arianne]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: Romance, Erotica, Richmonde, Arianne
Publisher: Mighty Publications
Published: 2015-02-17T00:00:00+00:00

7

STAR LENT ME HER custom-made, sky-blue Porsche, which had a very fancy, integral GPS system. I had no idea where I was going so I drove blindly, following Snoop Doggy Dog’s instructions (yeah, really), until I ended up on Mulholland Drive in the Hollywood Hills, where Daniel was staying at a friend’s house. The friend was away indefinitely and had lent Daniel his home for as long as he needed it. My dream had me so convinced it was real that I was surprised that he was not staying in Malibu near me, “just up the beach a ways.”

As I approached a pair of enormous iron gates, I hesitated, but they magically opened so I knew I’d come to the right place. The house was a swanky, Mediterranean style villa, with steps leading up to it, circular balconies, and a sweeping driveway big enough to accommodate a good forty or so cars. There were neatly trimmed hedges, Versailles style, and views looking to the mountains in every direction.

Daniel was standing on the steps, waiting for me. He was dressed in black. He often dressed in black. It suited his intense disposition. I could make out his pectoral and chest muscles beneath his T-shirt, his strong, tanned forearms—tanned from being here in LA—I supposed. He stood there, legs apart, not smiling, but his penetrating gaze told me he was glad to see me.

I pulled the car up and got out, swiveling my legs around as if I were wearing a short skirt—then remembered I was just wearing skinny jeans.

“It’s seems incongruous, doesn’t it?”

I cocked my head. “What does?” It was that awkward moment; the kiss on both cheeks. When we were rehearsing none of us ever did the thespian air kiss with Daniel. He didn’t like it. He used to say, ‘We see each other every day, for Christ’s sake, save the lovey dovey daahling kisses for opening night.’

But he stepped down, put his arm around my shoulder and said, “Welcome to La La Land where you and I don’t belong.”

“How do you know I don’t belong here?”

“Because I know.”

“This place is outrageous,” I said, doing a three-sixty. “So flashy!”

“Did you bring your swimsuit? There’s a heated saltwater pool with cascades, and God knows what.”

I hadn’t brought my swimsuit, I wasn’t sure how I’d feel being undressed in front of him, so I purposefully left it behind. “I forgot,” I said. “How long are you staying in LA, then?”

“Only a couple more days. As I said, I’m bailing on the movie so there’s no point being here longer.”

“You could catch a few rays. Hang out a while.”

“I don’t ‘hang out,’ Janie, you should know that by now.”

I smiled. “Yeah, I should know that by now. A girl can dream.”

He turned to me, took me by the hand, and stared me in the eye a full ten seconds (which felt like a millennium) and said, “What do you dream about, Janie Juilliard?”

I could feel myself turning beet-red, from my toes all the way up to my hair, which felt like it was standing on end with the charge of electricity between us.

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