Mia knew Olivia believed her, but what about Bronson? Did he also assume the worst about her? More than likely. There was no love lost between the two Hollywood big shots, which meant he probably believed the rumors. He’d already implied as much.
Hopefully, her actions would win his trust in time. He’d had his fair share of scandal in the media. Surely he didn’t believe everything he heard or read. Hollywood certainly wasn’t known for honesty.
And she’d never expected anything like this when she’d come to work for Olivia. When she’d been employed by Anthony, she’d traveled with him to film sites, but never, ever to a glamorous film festival. And here she was in Cannes. Just the trip itself was thrilling, but adding all the extras on top of that was fabulous.
First, she’d expected a simple room, not a suite, and she never, in her wildest dreams, thought she’d be treated like a princess when she was just…an assistant. But she’d take this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and not question the whys.
With a delicate touch, because God knew she’d never be able to cover the expense of just one of these dresses, even though her pay was very generous, she looked over the gowns as she envisioned dancing the night away in each one.
Spending money on clothes was not a priority in Mia’s life, unlike many women who lived in Hollywood. But she certainly wouldn’t turn down the opportunity to wear these classy, elegant designs.
Would she be dancing with Bronson all night? Would her body press against his as they swayed? She’d be lying to herself if she pretended she hadn’t thought of being close to him, feeling his arms around her.
More than likely he had a whole slew of women who danced with him at such events, but he’d chosen her to escort him. What did that mean? And he’d gone to the trouble of getting his sister involved. Did he just want to get to know her better, as he’d said? She could understand that, but somewhere deep inside she thought he must find her attractive or he wouldn’t have asked her to accompany him every single night.
The memory of his eyes taking in her bare skin when he’d caught her coming out of the shower had her body humming. She wasn’t vain, but she also wasn’t stupid. Bronson hadn’t been immune to the fact she’d been pretty much naked.
Reality check.
To think that Bronson Dane found her attractive sounded absurd, even in her own head. He worked with movie starlets, dated models and had literally seen women who exemplified perfection in the flesh. He’d even been engaged to a stunning makeup artist. But still, his eyes had widened on seeing her, and the muscle had ticked in his jaw. Her body heated again when she recalled how close they’d been as he’d held her bag away from her. He’d smelled so…masculine, powerful. Sexy.
Mia pulled the short, black, chiffon dress from the closet and held it in front of her as she turned to the full-length mirror. This would be for the first party. All the dresses were gorgeous, but this one—this would make the biggest impact. She wanted Bronson’s first impression of her in Cannes to be memorable.
The simplicity of the black gown and her black hair would complement each other and hopefully help her blend in with the rich and famous. She certainly didn’t want to be an embarrassment on Bronson’s arm. She may have immature thoughts, but she wanted him to notice her as more than his mother’s assistant.
Nerves danced around in her belly. How could she even compare to the arm candy Bronson normally had draped over him?
A laugh escaped her as she hung the dress back up. Had she just compared herself to arm candy? She wasn’t here to try to win Bronson over as her boyfriend or even her lover…but that didn’t stop her from wishing to be noticed by Hollywood’s sexiest bachelor. What woman wouldn’t want to be desired by such a strong, powerful man who ranked his loving family at the top of his priority list? There wasn’t a woman alive who wouldn’t want to be part of his inner circle.
But amid the excitement and arousal, guilt gnawed away at Mia as she pulled another dress from the closet. How could she take so much from this family when she knew a secret that could very well destroy their perfect happiness?
Unfortunately, the secret wasn’t hers to reveal. And since she had come to care about all the key players, she felt torn between her loyalty to her former employer and her loyalty to her current employer.
Right now all she could do was keep her own counsel and enjoy herself in one of the most exotic, memorable places on earth. Borrowing trouble that was utterly out of her hands wouldn’t help ease the guilt or make the nearly forty-year-old secret disappear.
Mia’s cell rang, breaking into her thoughts. She pulled her phone from her pocket and hit the Talk button.
“Hello?”
“I trust you found the dresses to your satisfaction.”
Mia’s gaze traveled back to the open closet. “Yes, Bronson, they’re gorgeous. I could never thank you or Victoria enough.”
“And the jewelry is all to your liking?” he asked. “If not, I can call the jeweler and have some pieces traded out.”
Mia’s eyes went to the dresser where velvet boxes were stacked. She hadn’t even opened them, but she knew the contents were surely more glamorous than anything she’d ever seen.
She fingered the simple locket around her neck. “Everything is more than I’d hoped for. Thank you.”
“Tonight’s viewing begins at seven-thirty,” he went on. “We have to be on the red carpet by quarter to seven, so I’ll meet you down in the lobby by the elevator at six-thirty.”
Without another word, he hung up. Mia didn’t quite know what to make of his abruptness. On the jet en route to Cannes he’d made idle chitchat—nothing personal. At times she’d feel someone staring at her and turn to see those crystal-blue eyes on her as if he were just as intrigued with her as she was with him—at least, she liked to think that was the reason. And when she caught him, he didn’t even pretend that he hadn’t been studying her. But why would a strong, powerful playboy be shy or coy? He could have any woman he wanted, and that woman would gladly follow those endless baby blues anywhere. She was no exception.
She was finding, in the few encounters she’d had with Bronson, that he was a hard man to get to know, especially when he delivered a twenty-second phone call that was straight and to the point and hung up before she could even ask a question.
Mia sighed as she padded to the bath. A nice, long bubble bath would do her nerves some good. With Olivia out shopping with some friends for the day, Mia could just relax.
Or as much as she could relax with a damning secret preying on her mind. She’d had nothing but high hopes when she’d accepted this job as assistant to the Grand Dane of Hollywood. But then she’d accepted the position nearly a week before learning Olivia’s best-kept secret. If only she’d left Anthony sooner and not worked during her two weeks’ notice, she wouldn’t have this guilt weighing on her.
So many times over the last six months she wished she didn’t know the secret. Then maybe her job wouldn’t be so difficult. But she did know. And eventually the truth would come out and damage Hollywood’s most beloved family. The Danes.
All this secrecy bubbling inside her forced her mind back to another time, another secret that had hurt those she loved.
Her mother had once asked her to keep a secret, but at the tender age of five, Mia didn’t think that meant to keep it from her father. Ultimately, the truth tore her family apart, taking the lives of her parents and sending Mia into a long line of foster homes. And even after twenty-five years, the guilt and heartache that followed her, haunted her, was just as strong and powerful as ever.
She knew she needed to keep this secret. No way would she cause another disaster. And this explosion she could see coming. She would keep this secret out of loyalty to a friend and respect to the key players.
After pouring an enormous amount of jasmine-scented bubblebath into the running water, Mia stepped into the round, sunken tub with a one-way window overlooking a lavish garden. She settled down into the skin-tingling hot water and sighed as she looked out the glass.
What would Bronson think once he saw her tonight? Would he be disappointed? Would he be attracted? Anthony had reminded her about Bronson’s playboy style. He’d warned her not to get involved or, worse, attached to a man who was known for the revolving door in his bedroom.
Even though she’d worked for Anthony for three years, she’d never once seen Anthony and Bronson in the same room. She’d certainly seen the tabloids showcasing the bitterness between the two Hollywood powerhouses, but anytime she questioned Anthony about it, he’d laugh it off. He was always joking, always carefree. The very opposite of Bronson.
But the tabloids’ speculation about their alleged affair was no laughing matter. Neither she nor Anthony found the assumptions amusing. She’d seen firsthand the destruction a photo and boldface caption could cause.
She was eternally grateful that Olivia had given her a chance, and believed in her ability to do her job, and not focused on what the rumor mill portrayed her as—a liar.
And now she was in Cannes getting ready for one of the largest film festivals in the world.
With excitement and curiosity spiraling through her, Mia slid a handful of hot bubbles up over her shoulders. She only hoped the two men didn’t get into another verbal altercation. The press was always so greedy when it came to pictures of the two most powerful men in movies having a public disagreement.
There had to be a way to bridge the hatred between Bronson and Anthony, and with her current position she could be that link. Because once Bronson learned that Anthony was the child Olivia had given up for adoption nearly forty years ago, he’d have even more hatred for the man than he did now.
She hadn’t been able to save her own family, but maybe, just maybe, she could bring this family together.
Two
Bronson’s breath caught. He knew his mouth had dropped open, but nothing could pull his gaze from the sight coming toward him.
He hadn’t thought it possible, but as Mia walked toward him in a Victoria Dane original, she looked even sexier than she had in just a towel.
Mia wore his sister’s design as if she’d been made to model the one-of-a-kind dress on a runway in Milan or Paris. Or as if she’d been made to torture unsuspecting men like him.
He’d been feeling guilty about not picking her up at her suite, and now he knew that was a wise decision because there were very few steps from the door to the bed.
“I have to say, it’s not often I’m speechless.” Bronson lifted Mia’s slender hand to his lips. “I’m glad you’re going in on my arm.”
Mia offered a sexy, confident smile. “Well, that makes two of us.”
If this were any woman other than his mother’s assistant, an assistant he still had serious doubts about, Bronson could’ve talked her out of that thin, flowy dress in a matter of seconds. And, who knows, he still could get her out of that dress. They were here for nearly a week, and this was only the first night. After all, he did need to spend some one-on-one time with her, didn’t he?
Damn if she wouldn’t be turning some heads tonight. Jealousy stabbed him in the chest. What did he care that men looked? So long as they didn’t touch. For now, she was his. Anthony’s loss made this seduction all the more enjoyable.
“Shall we?” he asked, slipping her arm through his.
She fit against him as they walked through the open lobby toward the glow of the sunset streaming in the etched-glass doors. Her heels clicked against the marble floor, the jasmine scent he’d associated with her wafting around him. Everything about her mocked him. He wanted her, but he didn’t trust her. His emotions were all jumbled because of this intriguing woman, and he didn’t like this lack of control. That in itself should make him dislike her, but she oozed sex appeal and confidence, and Bronson knew he would have her before the week’s end.
When they reached the door, he placed a hand on the small of her back to escort her out…and encountered bare skin. If he thought she was sexy from the front with that low cowl-neck design that enhanced her perfect br**sts, she was sinful from the back with the chiffon draping as low as legally possible without being indecent.
A sexy back got him every time. Of course, he was beginning to think every physical attribute of this Italian beauty got to him. Great. Just what he needed, an out-of-control libido to hinder his judgment about this woman…as if he weren’t having enough issues with that. The fact she may have slept with his enemy should have been enough to turn him off. But damn if he wasn’t stubborn and all the more defiant when he saw something, or someone, he wanted.
He had to hand it to his sister. When she’d picked the dress, she’d nailed the style that accentuated Mia’s height, curves and sensual features. That’s why Victoria was so sought after by every star in America—and why men were sent reeling by the women who wore the designs.