Page 13 of Mr. Wrong (Hollywood Knights #1)

Thirteen

Ellenore

After the cab spits me back onto the sidewalk and pulls away, I sit on the curb for what feels like an eternity, telling myself that this is wrong.

That this has to be a mistake. There’s no way that the one time I decide to break all the rules and engage in a night of anonymous sex, that I choose to do it with Landon Trask’s brother.

I mean, that’s what Lex said last night, right? That his brother owned the house. If this is Landon Trask’s house then that would make Lex his brother.

Right?

It also means he lied to me.

He told me that his brother owned the bar we met in last night.

I don’t even realize that I’m sitting until I feel my ass hit the sidewalk and even though I know that it’s grossly inappropriate for me to sit on the curb outside what is presumably the compound of the hottest actor in Hollywood—who just happens to be my new boss—I can’t seem to make myself get up.

The street looks quiet. Secluded, but I can practically feel the crawl of security cameras across my skin.

Sooner, rather than later, someone is going to call the police on the barefoot weirdo sitting in the street.

Still telling myself that this is a mistake, that I remembered the address wrong or that I’ve suffered some sort of catastrophic head injury and am in a coma, I pull myself up and force my feet to shuffle over to the ivy-covered gate I just passed through.

Set in the gate is a keypad and speaker. One of the buttons says call .

Pressing it, I hold my breath.

“Yes?”

I stare at the speaker, long enough for the man on the other end of it to repeat his question.

“Yes?”

I recognize the voice.

“Good morning, Mr. Trask.” I feel like I might pass out. “I—it’s Elle Pierce. I’m here to—”

“Come to the front door, someone will let you in.” A monotone buzz cuts me off and the gate in front of me pops open.

“Oh... thank you.” I push the gate open with a shaky hand and within minutes, I’m right back where I was only a few minutes ago.

Crossing the cobblestone driveway, I walk past Lex’s motorcycle, still parked where we left it last night.

Instead of following the path under the ivy-covered trellis, I follow a path that curves through a beautifully landscaped yard and leads to a small front porch, flanked by a pair of tall, stone pillars, crawling with more ivy.

Large, red brick planters boast the same wisteria and rose bushes as in the backyard.

Pressing my finger against the doorbell, I take a few steps back and a deep breath to try to steady myself.

Okay, so Lex is Landon Trask’s brother. Weird, yeah—but once he understands that I’m not some crazy stalker and that I certainly didn’t plan this, we’ll have a good laugh over it.

Maybe.

I hope.

Besides, he probably went back to his little cottage by the pool and is sound asleep. I have plenty of time to—

I look down and let out a mortified squeak.

I’m still barefoot.

Shit.

Dropping my shoes, I dig my socks out of my pocket and pull them apart, sticking one in my mouth while I hop around on one leg, struggling to get the other pulled up and over my foot.

“Ellenore?”

And then there he is.

Lex didn’t go back to the pool house.

He isn’t sleeping

He’s standing right in front of me.

Popping my head up, I catch his confused and slightly amused expression when he sees the sock hanging out of my mouth. “What are you doing here?” He aims a quick look over his shoulder and I take the opportunity to drop my foot and yank the sock out of my mouth.

The taco sock.

Of course it’s the fucking taco sock.

Looking at me again, he seems to be looking past me. Like he’s looking for someone else. For an explanation as to why I’m standing on his doorstep less than twenty minutes after he put me in a cab and sent me on my way. “How did you get in here?”

“Lex—” I lift my bare foot and start hopping and yanking, trying to explain before he figures it out on his own. “I didn’t—” Sock on, I drop my foot and shove it into my waiting shoe just as the door is pried from Lex’s grip and opened wide.

“Ms. Pierce,” Landon Trask says from the doorway, a dark-haired girl in a pair of bright yellow tights and a ratty pink tutu standing beside him. “You’re early.”