Leo Hayes and I are Hollywood’s resident cautionary tales. He famously blew up his career for the one that got away; I built mine writing songs for a man who would never love me back. He throws money and resources at his past, I write power ballads about mine. We’re a matching set, a pair of aces in the art of getting our hearts broken publicly. And then, one night, we accidentally fell into bed together. Which led to us accidentally, and secretly, getting married. Which led to this: the four of us—Leo and me, his ghost of girlfriends past, and my great unrequited love—all trapped on the same reality TV show. After finishing a challenge, acting like strangers, Leo and I leaned in and, out of pure habit, kissed right in front of the cameras. That night, the internet didn't just break; it threw a goddamn parade. #LetThemHaveEachOther became the number one trending topic worldwide. 1 The penthouse suite smelled of Le Labo and last night’s mistakes. My body was a dull, pleasant ache, and the space beside me on the bed was still warm. My phone was vibrating itself off the nightstand, a relentless assault of texts from my agent, Cass. I played dead for a few seconds, but the moment I reached for the phone, a subtle, full-body stiffness reminded me exactly why I was so sore. “The goddamn internet is on fire! Can you give me one week of peace? Just one?!” I sat up, the sheet pooling around my waist. “Bullshit. There’s no way the paparazzi got pictures.” A chart-topping singer and an Oscar-winning actor leaving the same hotel? I could already imagine the TMZ headline. It would be explosive. “No way?” Cass’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. “Lia, the entire world knows about your pathetic obsession with Ethan Cole.” A wave of relief washed over me, so potent I fell back against the pillows. Thank god. “So what’s the headline?” I asked, feeling like I’d just dodged a bullet. “‘Lia Valentine: Hollywood’s Most Pathetic Hopeless Romantic.’” The afterglow of the night was still humming through my veins. I stalled, needing a moment to clear my head. “What do you mean, ‘most’?” “Because Leo Hayes is a close second,” she shot back. “You two are the king and queen of bad decisions.” Just as she said his name, I heard footsteps approaching from the adjoined room. The man himself appeared, a towel slung low on his hips, his hair wet from the shower. Water droplets trickled down his sculpted chest. I looked up, and my gaze met the sharp, devastatingly handsome face of Leo Hayes. 2 Leo Hayes made his debut at eighteen. In the decade since, he’d collected two Oscars. His career was the stuff of legends, a smooth, glittering ascent that made him the fantasy of millions. His only blemish, the only crack in his perfect facade, was the fact that he was, like me, a notorious romantic. One week ago, Leo was nominated for another major international film award. One night ago, he’d accidentally ended up in my bed, where we’d spent hours lost in each other, forgetting the world existed. He’d whispered my name—Ava—in a voice thick with passion, and I’d sobbed out his—Ethan. Cass was still ranting on the phone. “Where are you? Why are you so calm about this?” My eyes fixed on a faint lipstick smudge on Leo’s neck. Because I’m about to give you something much, much bigger to worry about, I thought. “I wasn’t with Ethan last night,” I said. “Just kill the story. You know the drill.” The call ended. I was wearing nothing but Leo Hayes’s blazer, my bare shoulders a canvas of red marks. The silence in the room was thick enough to hear our own breathing. After a moment, he walked over and draped a soft blanket over my shoulders. “You were still asleep when I went to the shower,” Leo said, his voice a calm, low rumble as he knelt to look at me. “You should go wash up.” His dark eyes were impossibly deep. I nodded, but when I tried to stand, my legs gave out. 3 Leo caught me in an instant, his body a wall of warmth and damp heat. The moment our bare skin touched, we both froze, the intoxicating memory of the previous night flooding back. He pulled back slightly, his gaze dropping to my legs. The tips of his ears turned a faint pink. “Is it okay if I carry you?” he asked softly. My answer was to wrap my arms around his neck. We’d already slept together. There was no point in being shy now. Leo Hayes’s official bio listed him at six-foot-two. He was all long legs, broad shoulders, and a narrow waist—a living mannequin. He’d played a soldier, was a fitness fanatic, and had a body that kept him on the top of every luxury brand’s wish list. I’d had the pleasure of experiencing it firsthand last night. His fans’ nickname for him, “The Greek God,” was no exaggeration. As I rested my head against his chest, I had to admit it was true. Leo’s status in the industry was so high that he was practically a recluse, avoiding the Hollywood circus outside of mandatory events. I’d rarely crossed paths with him. At the few galas we’d both attended, he was always surrounded, a remote, unattainable star. But this man, the one holding me now, was surprisingly gentle. He placed me carefully in the large soaking tub and adjusted the water temperature until it was perfect. “Call me if you need anything,” he said, his hair still messy, his features sharp and intense. “I’ll be right outside.” The door clicked shut. As I sank into the warm water, my mind drifted to a movie I’d seen when I was twenty. A Life in Three Acts. It was the film that won Leo his first Oscar. He played a man who accidentally betrayed the woman he loved, a character torn apart by guilt and morality. I let out a small, ironic laugh. For an actor of his caliber, this situation probably felt like method acting. 4 It took me a long time to get clean, and by the time I emerged, my patience had worn thin. A fresh set of clothes was waiting for me. Next to them, a glass of water and the morning-after pill. Leo handed them to me. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice gentle. “In our line of work, we have to be careful.” The veins on the back of his hand stood out as he held the glass, his tone leaving no room for argument. I didn’t waste time. I swallowed the pill and downed the water. “What if it doesn’t work?” I asked. Too much time had passed. I loved my life, and a baby wasn’t part of the plan. But I needed to know where he stood. “Your wishes are all that matter. I will take full responsibility and provide the best possible compensation.” The belt of his robe was loosely tied, revealing the faint scratches on his abdomen. He leaned against the kitchen island, arms crossed, his gaze direct and unwavering. “I don’t know how your key card got mixed up, but that doesn’t matter now,” he continued, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If you’re pregnant, it’s your choice. Whether you want to keep it, who raises it—it’s all up to you. I will respect every decision and offer unconditional financial and professional support.” He really was as decent as his reputation suggested. A true gentleman. “It takes two to tango,” he added, “but at the end of the day, I was the one who walked into the wrong suite.” My hips ached and my legs felt like jelly. Last night, all reason had evaporated. I glanced at the man across from me and sank onto the sofa. I pressed a hand to my stomach. His persona was all cool self-control, but in bed, Leo Hayes was an entirely different animal. “Let’s just,” I paused, “call this a one-time thing. A crazy night that never happened.” 5 Leo’s head was bowed, hiding his expression. “Let’s exchange numbers,” he said after a moment of silence, picking up his phone from the island. “You can contact me if anything comes up.” I raised an eyebrow. Everyone in the business knew Leo Hayes came from a powerful family and had access to the best resources in the industry. I’d hit it big with my debut single, but our professional circles were worlds apart. We’d never had a reason to connect. Besides, more than his legendary career, my primary impression of him was the same one the public had of me. One of Hollywood’s most notorious hopeless romantics. His story was as well-known as my five-year public pursuit of Ethan Cole, the CEO of Azure Media. Three years ago, at the absolute peak of his fame, Leo had announced an indefinite hiatus from acting—all for a young starlet named Ava Brooks. A workaholic giving up his career for love, a high-profile declaration, a massive fan exodus—it was spectacular. He only returned to the screen a year ago, after the tabloids reported their breakup. And in less than ten months, he was already nominated for another major award for a gritty indie film. It was at his welcome-home party that he and I had, by some cosmic joke, ended up in bed together. I pulled out my phone, thinking with a cynical smirk that at least I got something out of it. A fantastic night and a powerful new contact. I ignored the dozens of notifications and held my screen out for him to scan. Just then, two new messages from Cass popped up, in full view of both of us. [Your scandal just got buried by Leo Hayes’s.] [His is way bigger. You hopeless romantics have to stick together, I guess.] I froze. As if on cue, Leo’s phone began to vibrate violently. 6 It was Marcus, Leo’s legendary agent. While he took the call, I quickly went online to catch up. An hour ago, I was the top story. The infamous gossip site, LA Buzz, had posted: Lia Valentine finally gets her man? The accompanying photo was a cleverly angled shot of Ethan and me from the party last night. It looked like we were kissing. It was a beautiful photo, capturing the elegant line of Ethan’s jaw. He looked refined, handsome. I was looking up at him, a focused, adoring smile on my face. The comments were brutal. Trolls called me a desperate stalker, while my fans fought a losing battle in the replies, begging me to have some self-respect. But that wasn’t the main event anymore. I clicked on the new, blazing red headline. #LeoAndAvaBackTogether It was another post from LA Buzz. No text this time, just a short surveillance video. A man and a woman, locked in a passionate kiss, stumbled down a hotel corridor and into a suite. The clip was over a minute long, a desperate, breathless tangle of limbs. The man’s larger frame completely obscured the woman, her face never visible. All you could see were her pointed toes, her long hair swinging around her waist, and the man’s hand gripping that waist, the veins on his arm stark and possessive. It was raw, so intense you could practically hear the wet sound of their kisses. It was the kind of video that made you blush. I covered my face, a wave of horror washing over me as I recognized it. It was from last night. It was me and Leo Hayes. I looked up. The man from the video was standing right in front of me. “We need to talk,” Leo said, his expression unreadable. 7 “I swear, I didn’t leak that video.” “I know,” Leo said, surprisingly calm. “You haven’t exactly had the time.” My mind flashed with images of the various positions we’d been in, and I winced. “…” “I’ll handle the trending topics,” he said. “And I took care of the one about you and Ethan Cole while I was at it.” Saving money was always a plus. “Thanks,” I said briskly. Leo glanced at me and held out his phone again. We finally added each other as contacts. As he typed in my name, a belated wave of awkwardness washed over me. Out of habit, to prevent being photographed, the heavy blackout curtains remained drawn, casting the room in a cool, dim light. We were both in bathrobes, our bodies marked by each other. Every time our eyes met, the memories of the night before came rushing back. The kisses, the embraces, his low, seductive whispers, my own helpless crying. We both knew it was more than just a spiked drink. We were adults. In the latter half of the night, we had both been willing participants, a mix of pure indulgence and a shared decision to see it through. A tense, electric ambiguity began to warm the air. “We should leave at different times,” Leo said, standing up first. “And like I said, if you need anything, just contact me.” I was alone in the master suite when Cass called again. “I can’t take it anymore,” she said, her voice strained. “When are you finally leaving Azure Media?” 8 My pursuit of Ethan Cole had been a public spectacle for five years. Three years ago, I’d given up plans to launch my own independent label and instead signed with his company, Azure Media. I was at a critical point in my career, and the move cost me a huge chunk of my fanbase. But I wasn’t a manufactured pop idol; I was a songwriter, young and arrogant, buoyed by real talent. I went on to release two more bestselling albums. My remaining fans, in an act of collective self-soothing, convinced themselves I was just there for artistic inspiration. For years, I’d been the golden goose, bringing Azure countless successful projects and massive revenue. But behind the scenes, I’d paid a heavy price. “What’s wrong?” I asked softly. “Didn’t the story get taken down?” “The watch endorsement—the full line,” Cass said with a cold laugh. “Your beloved CEO gave it to Ava Brooks.” Ava Brooks. The current "it girl." The woman Leo Hayes had given up his career for. His great, idealized love. For some reason, instead of anger, I felt a strange sense of dark humor. This town was too small. We were all just actors in the same ridiculous play. “What the hell are you laughing at?” Cass snapped. “That son of a bitch has been trying to sideline you for months. Ava signing with Azure after her ‘reunion’ with Leo? He brought her in specifically to replace you.” She took a deep, ragged breath. “If you didn’t pay me so damn well, and if every lovesick song you write for him didn’t turn to gold, I would’ve been gone so long ago!” I was shaking with laughter. It took me a moment to catch my breath. “Don’t worry, Cass. Ava and Leo aren’t back together.” “How would you know? Did you see how fast he killed that story? Who else could make him move like that besides Ava?” Because he just climbed out of my bed. “Get the paperwork ready,” I said. “It’s time to start my own studio.” 9 On the drive to Azure Media’s headquarters, I thought about how Ethan and I had met. He discovered me. In my early days, trying to make it in music, my family had all but cut me off. I was broke, playing for tips in smoky bars, when Ethan found me. He gave me money, poured resources into my first album, and launched my career into the stratosphere. He was five years older than me, handsome, elegant, wealthy—and a staunch bachelor. Cass always said he’d intentionally cultivated my crush on him. A damn shame he was a coward. He’d reeled me in but refused to either commit or cut me loose, leaving me hanging in limbo. I didn’t used to care. Maybe it was an occupational hazard for a songwriter, but my emotions were always intense. If I loved, I pursued. If I hated, I walked away. All or nothing. So I let him play his games, let my heart be trampled, let the world laugh at me. They were my choices, and I could live with the consequences. But even the most resilient heart gets tired of being taken for granted. Ethan was expecting me. He handed me a cup of freshly brewed tea. He was always like that—thoughtful and gentle in every small way, yet incredibly stingy with the things that truly mattered. I got straight to the point. “My endorsement. Why did you give it to Ava?” “I had to give her a welcome gift for signing with us,” he said, his voice low and persuasive. “Lia, just do this for me, okay? As a favor.” I looked at his handsome face and thought, He’s always so sure I’ll say yes. Time after time, his reassurances had become more and more perfunctory. I smiled, a hollow ache spreading through my chest, like an old wound being torn open. It hurt so much my voice came out raspy. And I gave him the same answer I always did. “Okay.” 10 “I’ll make it up to you,” Ethan said warmly. “There’s a spot for you on Pacific Challenge, the network’s biggest reality show. You’ll be a main cast member.” The discomfort from last night lingered in my body. I sipped my tea, my eyes downcast. “Why her? Why Ava?” Ava was a natural talent, one of those actresses blessed by the gods. She hadn’t made many films, but nearly every one was a classic. Her personality was as bright and fiery as her fame. Three years ago, she and Leo had been cast as leads in a romance, and their on-screen love had spilled into real life. After Leo stepped away for her, Ava remained in the spotlight—not for her acting, but for a string of high-profile flings. I remembered clearly that among the men she was rumored to be with, Ethan had once been photographed with her at a hotel. “The company’s focus for the second half of the year is film investment,” he said with a smile. Then his eyes fell on me, and he paused. “Lia, where were you yesterday?” I looked down and saw it: a faint mark on my collarbone, just visible past the edge of my silk scarf. I adjusted the scarf. “Does it matter to you?” Ethan was taken aback. In all the years I’d chased him, I’d never spoken to him with that tone. But he recovered quickly, smiling. “Still the same little hothead, aren’t you?” His voice became soft, coaxing. “Don’t be mad. I know I’ve been neglecting you lately. That’s my fault.” He brushed his fingers against my palm. “Come over tonight?” There it was again. The slap, then the candy. All of it predicated on the fact that he knew I loved him, giving him license to treat my heart like a plaything. Before, it had been a game I was willing to play. But now— I pulled my hand away. “No, thanks. You’re busy. I should go.” 11 As I walked out of the Azure building, a message popped up on my phone. It was one of a dozen from my mother. “Just meet him. Our families are partners on this project, and he’s in your industry. It won’t kill you to have one dinner.” My career had been stable for years, and as I’d gotten older, the frosty relationship with my family had started to thaw. But the constant pressure to agree to an arranged marriage made me wish we were still estranged. Every part of my body ached. Leo Hayes was an animal in bed. I took a few deep breaths to calm myself. The buyout clause in my contract with Azure was steep. I could afford it, but it would be a devastating financial hit. I had an album to release and a whole team of people who depended on me. I typed out a reply, word by word. “Fine. Let me know when and where.” This whole arrangement was born from a massive real estate development deal. My older siblings were already married, leaving me as the only age-appropriate match for the other family’s youngest son. Business is business, I thought grimly. You get your hands dirty one way or another. If this marriage worked, my family would cover the exorbitant contract buyout. I scheduled a doctor’s appointment. The results were clear. As I was leaving the clinic, a message from Leo came in. “Do you need to get a full check-up?” I raised an eyebrow and replied, “Thanks, I already did.” He didn’t write back. Online, every trace of that explosive kissing video had been scrubbed from the internet. I’d seen it before, but it was still staggering to witness the efficiency of Leo Hayes’s team. Of course, that level of damage control had previously been reserved exclusively for Ava Brooks. Today, I’d gotten a taste of it. On the way home, I called Cass. “I know you’ve been waiting for this,” I said with a smile. “It’s officially time to burn it all down with Ethan.” 12 The day I was scheduled to meet my prospective fiancé, my new independent studio’s official social media accounts went live. The news spread like wildfire through gossip blogs and fan communities. The internet was in an uproar. Ethan called me relentlessly. I didn’t answer once. The meeting was at a serene, traditional teahouse, set in a private garden that I was told belonged to the family. While I waited, I reviewed what little I knew about my future husband. The Rhodes family. A real estate empire, one of the most powerful names in the city. Their youngest son, like me, was a rebel who’d gone into entertainment. He couldn’t be very famous, though. I’d been in this business for years and had never heard of a major star named Rhodes. The sound of approaching footsteps broke my train of thought. I looked up, and my eyes widened in disbelief. The man walking toward me was tall and lean, dressed in a simple black t-shirt and jeans, a sleek watch on his wrist. It was a casual outfit, but there was nothing casual about that handsome face. Leo Hayes. The A-list actor who, just one week ago, had been whispering in my ear as we lay tangled in my sheets. His usual cool expression was touched with genuine surprise. He paused for a beat before saying, “Long time no see.” “Not that long,” I said, unable to suppress a smile. The world was ridiculously small. “Your last name isn’t Hayes?” “I use my mother’s surname professionally,” he said, taking the seat across from me. “I had no idea the marriage was arranged with you.” “I didn’t either.” “After that day,” Leo asked, his voice softening, “did you get checked out? Did you feel okay?” I looked at him, his dark hair falling casually across his forehead, a relaxed charm in his sharp features. He had the captivating aura of a mature, confident man. “I’m fine,” I said with a small smile, a spark of mischief igniting in me. “Although, it’s a little too soon to know if I’m pregnant or not.” Leo didn’t smile back. He looked at me, his gaze serious and intense. “Lia Valentine, will you consider marrying me?”
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