He was a quintessential movie star, so it always surprised me he’d ended up in that role by chance. His plan had actually been to follow in his father’s footsteps and play professional football, and he’d gone to college on an athletic scholarship. But at nineteen he was discovered by a talent scout, and a few modeling gigs led almost immediately to his first movie role. Almost ten years later, his career was hotter than ever.
In an industry obsessed with youth and beauty, it was no wonder success had come easily to Harper. He was, without a doubt, the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen. He also happened to be a really good actor, but most people assumed his face and body were what landed the roles and sold all those tickets.
There was more to it than that, though. Yes, he was flawlessly beautiful with his expressive pale green eyes and chiseled features. But he wasn’t just a Ken doll, plastic in his perfection. Instead, what helped make him a star was the sparkle of almost constant amusement in his eyes, the hint of a smirk in his smile, and the huge personality and zest for life that shone from him like a beacon. It was no wonder almost every single person at our gate was irresistibly drawn to Harper and giving him the attention he craved.
Everyone but me.
I sat there with my sunglasses on and my blue baseball cap pulled down to my brows and pretended I was immune to his charms. It was a matter of self-preservation. When I’d worked for him a year ago, I’d let myself believe I was special to him, and that there was a spark of attraction between us.
Then he started dating my identical twin.
Right now, he was making every fan who approached him feel important. He paid attention to them and acted like he cared about whatever they had to say. But it was just an illusion, created by an insecure actor who needed the whole world to love him. He wouldn’t remember any of them tomorrow, or even five minutes from now, but he was great at making them believe they mattered to him.
I’d been dumb enough to believe the exact same thing, and I’d gotten hurt because of it. But now I understood who I was dealing with. Part of the reason I’d agreed to come back to work for him was because I wanted to prove to myself I was stronger now and able to resist the force of nature that was Harper Royce.
But as I sat there in the airport terminal watching him win over everyone from kids to grannies, I realized I’d either been wildly overconfident, or I’d forgotten just how irresistible he was. Maybe both. I could pretend I was immune, but in truth I was drawn to him with every part of me. That sucked, because I knew for a fact I’d end up getting hurt again if I let myself get close to him.
And I’d agreed to spend the next four months by his side. I was so screwed.
Chapter 2
The flight to New York was peaceful, since I’d booked Harper into first class and gotten myself a seat at the very back of the plane. He was waiting for me in the terminal when we landed. It seemed like something was bothering him, but he was all smiles for his fans.
Once we’d retrieved our luggage and were headed into the city in the backseat of the town car I’d booked for us, he muttered, “Don’t do that again.”
“Do what?”
“Don’t book me into first class and yourself into coach, like you’re Cinderella and I’m your evil stepsister. There was an open seat right next to me, so don’t try to give me the excuse of taking whatever was available.”
He really seemed upset. I glanced at his profile and asked, “Why does that matter so much?”
“A lot of reasons, including the fact that it makes me look like a douche. I can hear the internet now—check out Harper Royce flying first class while sticking his assistant in coach like a fucking cheapskate.” He actually had a point, because that was exactly the type of thing the internet would latch onto and blow out of proportion.
“Okay. I’ll switch my seat for our return flight.”
I pulled out my phone to make the change, and after a few moments he said, “I also wanted to talk to you.”
“You’re right, and I apologize. We could have discussed your schedule, and—”
“That’s not what I mean. I just wanted your company.”
“I’m sorry. I figured I’d use the time to work on your in-box and schedule, so I decided to sit by myself. Both of those things are really critical right now. That reminds me, I’m sending Julia a huge bouquet with an apology from both of us. She’s one of the best publicists in the business, and I’m going to try like hell to get her to come back to work for you.”