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Copyright © 2015 by Vi Keeland
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, things, living or dead, locales or events is entirely coincidental.
Throb
Edited by: Caitlin Alexander
Cover model: Josh Kloss
Cover designer: Sommer Stein, Perfect Pear Creative
Photographer: Scott Hoover Photography
contents
contents
dedication
definitions
prologue
chapter one
chapter two
chapter three
chapter four
chapter five
chapter six
chapter seven
chapter eight
chapter nine
chapter ten
chapter eleven
chapter twelve
chapter thirteen
chapter fourteen
chapter fifteen
chapter sixteen
chapter seventeen
chapter eighteen
chapter nineteen
chapter twenty
chapter twenty-one
chapter twenty-two
chapter twenty-three
chapter twenty-four
chapter twenty-five
chapter twenty-six
chapter twenty-seven
chapter twenty-eight
chapter twenty-nine
chapter thirty
chapter thirty-one
chapter thirty-two
chapter thirty-three
chapter thirty-four
chapter thirty-five
chapter thirty-six
chapter thirty-seven
chapter thirty-eight
chapter thirty-nine
chapter forty
chapter forty-one
epilogue
acknowledgements
other books by vi
about vi
connect with vi
for the reader
dedication
To my husband,
whose voice somehow always finds a way into my books.
definitions
game \'gam\
Verb
1. to play a contest of chance for money
synonyms: gamble, bet
2. manipulate, typically in a way that is unfair or unscrupulous.
Noun
1. a physical or mental activity or contest that has rules and that people do for pleasure
throb \THräb\
Verb
1. to beat with increased force or rapidity, as the heart under the influence of emotion or excitement; palpitate.
Synonyms: pounding, pulsating
2. to vibrate; ache
Noun
1. a strong, regular beat
prologue
Months later
I turn. He’s down on one knee, a black velvet box perched in the center of his hand. My heart starts to pound wildly in my chest … or is it more of a throb?
“Marry me, Beautiful.”
… And just like that, the game is finally over.
chapter one
Cooper
My phone buzzes on my desk for the third time in an hour. Looking down, my eyes narrow finding the same name flashing from the display again. I frown, but slide my finger across the screen to answer this time. She skips the formalities, jumping right in to what she wants. “Come downstairs to the studio at lunch.”
“I have a lunch meeting,” I lie.
“I’ll give you a delicious dessert when you’re done,” Tatiana purrs through the phone.
“Thanks, maybe next time,” I lie again. There will be no next time. I regret not learning from my father’s mistakes sooner—his no mingling business with pleasure policy was a lesson he learned the hard way.
“This is the third time you’re blowing me off. Do you know how many men would kill to spend time with me?”
“Many, I’m sure. Listen, Miles just walked in … I have to run.” My little brother hesitantly smiles and waves. I hold up one finger, ignoring whatever Tatiana is still rambling on about. His visit is unexpected, but I’m grateful for the excuse to get off the phone.
Miles nods and walks to the mahogany table displaying liquor bottles and ornate crystal glasses, the same one we’d watched our father walk to so many times before. He pours himself a tall glass of golden liquid and tosses half of it back in one gulp as he looks out at the view of Los Angeles. There’s strain in his face. I’m not surprised; the only time he comes by is when he needs to ask for something.
I rush Tatiana off the phone and, just as I push end, Helen beeps in from the intercom. “You have Stephen Blake on line one.”
“Just give me one more minute, Miles.”
My brother’s glass is drained by the time I’m wrapping up my short conversation with Stephen. His brown eyes are worn and tired, there’s a tenseness set in his jaw. Whatever he needs is big this time.
“Ben and I are putting a lot on the line with this project. We want him, but not for forty percent more. Ten is the highest we can go. You’re the super agent—sell him on the backend percentage we’re offering.” I know what’s coming next before the words sound through the receiver. “Sure, dinner next week sounds good. No, tell Miriam not to bring a friend.” A pause and then, “Thanks, Stephen, I look forward to it.”
Hanging up the call, I turn to Miles. “To what do I owe this pleasure, little brother?” I have a good hunch why he’s visiting, but I’ll play the game anyway.
My brother avoids the question, preferring to ease into the real subject he came to discuss. “Miriam still trying to fix you up?”
I pour myself a drink from a crystal decanter and raise the bottle, silently offering Miles a refill, which he happily accepts. “She swears Dad told her that she had to make sure I married well.” I sip from the glass. “There’ll be a woman there when I see them next week, even though I just told Stephen no.” We exchange a rare true smile. Stephen was our father’s best friend, and is one of Hollywood’s most coveted agents.
“Maybe Miriam’s got the right idea. You’re getting old. Time to stop fucking half of Hollywood and settle down.”
“I’m twenty nine. I’d hardly call that old.”
“It is by Hollywood standards. Plus, you practically live in this place lately.” He looks around my office. “You’re starting to turn into Dad.”
Miles says turning into Dad like it’s a bad thing. We grew up in the same house, becoming anything like our father is a compliment to me, yet my brother utters it like it’s an insult. A change of subject, to one that moves us to the point of his visit, is in order.
“How are things going at Mile High?” I ask cautiously, knowing it could be a very sore topic of discussion. A year after our father’s death, my brother and I split our family’s legendary film production business. I chose to continue on our father’s path, the one that had made Montgomery Productions a name every A-list actor and director wanted to work with. Miles, on the other hand, decided it was time for a change. Diving into the risky world of reality TV, he filmed his first series, Stripped. To this day, he can’t comprehend why Stripped—a show following a collection of artificially enhanced large-breasted strippers—flopped. Unable to accept the failure, he spent the last five years trying to prove he could make it as the King of Reality TV. In the process, he nearly depleted his trust fund, watched two of his “sure thing” reality shows fail, and got dumped publicly by the twenty-year-old starlet he’d just bought a Porsche.