Page 6 of Faking the Pass

Safe Haven

R osie

The way I saw it, I had two choices, faint like a Victorian damsel or escape with whatever shreds still remained of my dignity.

I sure as hell wasn’t walking down that petal-strewn aisle.

Gathering the heavy skirts of my gown, I turned to head for the mansion’s front doors. There were dozens of limos parked outside.

Surely I could beg the driver of one of them to take me as far away from here as possible? I didn’t have any money on me, but I did have a showy rock on my left hand.

Under the circumstances, trading a twenty-carat diamond ring for a getaway car felt like a pretty good deal.

Randy grabbed my arm—hard—stopping my forward motion.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded.

I glared over my shoulder at him then down at his bruising grip on my arm and growled a response.

“Let go. You’re hurting me.”

He didn’t let go. Instead he pulled me back and spun me around to face him, grabbing both my arms this time and shaking me.

“I know you aren’t planning to just leave me at the altar,” he said. “You can’t back out now. Look at all those people in there. And I spent a fortune on this production.”

“Whose idea was that?” I snapped. “I wanted a small wedding, remember?”

He scowled, his eyes full of disdain. “What would have been the point of that? Small weddings don’t create publicity.”

“See, and I thought the point was to be married. My mistake.”

“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Gina earlier,” he said, failing to sound even the least bit sorry.

“Or the fact you were about to be a father.”

“Or the baby,” he conceded. “But you are not going to embarrass me by backing out of this.”

“Embarrass you ? I was the one who was tricked into marrying you. You’ve humiliated me.”

Yanking out of his painful grasp, I once again turned and headed for the exit, managing to make it to the towering iron and glass doors this time.

Randy charged after me. “I’m warning you, Rosie—don’t do this. The scandal will tank the film at the box office. Your career will be over. I can ruin you with a word, and you know it.”

“You’ll never get another role if you walk out on me,” he threatened. “I created you, and I can destroy you just as quickly.”

Ignoring him, I shoved at one of the heavy doors with both hands. Behind me, Randy made a strangled sound.

“I can’t believe you’re really this stupid,” he barked. “You really are a dumb bitch.”

That last lovely word sailed into the outside air as the door opened and we both emerged from the front of the mansion.

I stopped short at the sight of the paparazzi lining the gilded iron gates of the estate.

Telephoto lenses rose in a flurry of motion, ready to capture my humiliation—and the mascara that was undoubtedly streaming down my face—in high definition.

They were everywhere.

I was trapped.

Whirling back toward the house, I saw two faces—Randy’s infuriated scowl—and a frown of concern from a tall security guy in sunglasses and a dark gray suit. I hadn’t even noticed him standing there before.

The security guard took immediate action, opening the door and ushering us both back inside.

Once we were out of camera range, he stepped in between Randy and me and looked down at me. His tone was gentle.

“Do you need help?”

Somewhere in a detached part of my brain, I noted that he hadn’t asked, “Are you okay?”

I guessed the answer was obvious. When the groom calls the bride a “bitch” on their wedding day, it makes things pretty clear.

“I’m not sure. I want to leave, but…” I gestured toward the doors and the paparazzi that waited beyond them.

And then I realized this guy wasn’t exactly on my side either. Randy had hired the security company.

Backing away from the tall, powerfully built guard, I warned, “Don’t try to stop me. I will scream and cause a scene.”

“Stop being so melodramatic,” Randy said in a bored sounding tone.

Then to the security guy, he said, “Do you people carry, like, Xanax for this kind of thing? Where’s that wedding planner? She must have some.”

My fiancé started looking around for Olivia, apparently seeking something to tranquilize me with.

The other guy ignored him and moved me farther from my groom with a light touch to my back.

I skittered away from him, holding my hands out between us. “Whatever he’s paying you, I’ll pay you more to let me leave.”

Of course I had no money, but he didn’t know that. Desperate people said desperate things.

“The only way I’m going down that aisle is unconscious—or kicking and screaming,” I warned him.

“I won’t let either of those scenarios happen, I promise.”

The guard took off his sunglasses, revealing hazel eyes that crinkled in amusement and apparent sympathy.

“Rosie… it’s me. Wilder Lowe. Remember? We’ve met. You went out with my brother Presley?”

Oh. I did know him.

Well, not know him, know him, but he was right—I had met him once.

He was a hometown boy, one of the fabulous Lowe brothers. Eastport Bay’s answer to the Hemsworth clan.

There were four of them—all tall, all gorgeous, and all football-playing phenoms who won state championships, dominated the college stadiums, and three of whom had gone on to play in the NFL.

There hadn’t been a girl in our school—or probably a woman of any age in Eastport Bay—who wasn’t aware of them .

And yes, I had dated his younger brother briefly.

Very briefly.

“I’m here to help,” Wilder said. “I’m a friend. Just tell me what you need.”

“Wilder.” The word came out on a breath of relief, and my eyes instantly filled with tears. “I…”

Looking around, I tried to figure out exactly what I needed. It was hard to think, but at least the roar of panic was beginning to subside.

There was only one thing I knew for sure.

“I need to get out of here. I’m not getting married today.”

“Good choice,” he said with a slight grin. “Want me to escort you up to the bridal suite so you can change?”

“No. I can’t. She’s up there—his real fiancée. Who’s expecting his child any minute.”

“Oh. Wow.”

I shook my head and covered my face with one hand. “It’s… complicated.”

“It’s okay,” Wilder said. “I’m used to dealing with complicated situations. Don’t worry. We’ll get you out of here.”

Randy moved toward us, grabbing Wilder’s arm as he’d done mine, attempting to pull him away from me.

Attempting being the key word since he didn’t manage to budge the massive man an inch.

Wilder twisted his thick neck to shoot a glare at my former fiancé in a can I help you buddy? way.

Taking a step backward, Randy cleared his throat. “Thanks for stopping her for me. I’ll take it from here. You can just go back outside.”

His tone was noticeably more respectful than the one he’d used with me. Randy might have been a jerk, but wasn’t a fool.

“I wasn’t ‘stopping her.’ I was getting her out of harm’s way,” Wilder clarified. “Which means you’re not getting anywhere near her.”

The fury returned to Randy’s tone and face.

“Who do you think you are? You work for me . If you think I’m still paying your company for this weekend, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Wilder gave him a cool smile. “I wouldn’t take your money now if you begged me to.

I’ll pay my staff myself. Now if you’d like to discuss it further, we can step outside.

But if I were you, I’d head into the ballroom and tell all those fancy guests of yours the wedding’s off.

They’re probably getting pretty restless. ”

Randy glanced toward the ballroom doors, and I saw real fear in his eyes. Then he looked back at Wilder’s resolute expression, and the fear grew more pronounced.

Glancing at me, he asked, “Where are you planning to go?”

“Anywhere you’re not.”

“Don’t forget you signed a non-disclosure agreement,” Randy called after us as Wilder and I walked away.

He needn’t have worried about me spilling my guts to the press about this. The last thing I wanted was to publicly discuss my stupidity for almost marrying a man who not only did not love me, he apparently didn’t even like me very much.

Which made me an idiot. Unfortunately, Randy hadn’t been my first error when it came to judging character.

When we got downstairs, Wilder stopped and gave me a sympathetic look.

“Where do you want to go? You have family in the area, still? Your parents’ house?”

I shook my head, thinking wistfully of my mom. Even if she’d still been alive, she had left Eastport Bay long ago, moving to L.A. with me as soon as I’d finished high school, doing her best to help me pursue my dreams.

“No. It was just me and my mom,” I said. “She passed away earlier this year.”

It was starting to hit me how alone I was here, on the opposite coast from my own home.

“I guess I should go get my bags from the hotel bellman and head to the airport. I already checked out of my room.”

Wilder grimaced. “I wouldn’t recommend it. This tasty bit of celebrity gossip is minutes if not seconds from getting out. As soon as the story leaks, your hotel will be surrounded. The airports too. What about a friend’s house? Anywhere you could crash till the feeding frenzy dies down?”

I shrugged, feeling rather hopeless and noticing tears welling up again.

“I don’t really have any local friends anymore,” I said. “Not ones I could stay with anyway. I never came back here after I graduated.”

Not that I hadn’t wanted to—I’d loved Eastport Bay. But for the longest time I hadn’t had the money to travel cross-country. Every dime I’d made went to support my mom and me.

Then she’d gotten sick, and there had been a lot of medical expenses and debt.

“I’ve completely lost touch with anyone here who ever cared about me or who’d even remember me,” I told Wilder.

“My family remembers you,” he said warmly.

“Thanks. You’re kind,” I said, furiously blinking back tears.

For some reason, those words posed more danger to my tear ducts than any of the nasty things Randy had said to me.

“Anyway, I’d be ashamed to see anyone who knows me right now,” I said. “I feel like such a fool. I just want to hide.”