The Way You Love Me

Book 3: Pure Talent

by Elle Wright

Genres: Sports Romance

Synopsis

Stunning social media meltdowns. Glamorous dueling power couples. Megaviral scandals and dizzying Internet super-spin. No one is better than the Pure Talent Agency at handling it all—or facing down up-close-and-personal bad news …
Superstar actress Paige Mills is America's Sweetheart. But with a shocking divorce, she's burning her powerful husband's house of lies right down to the ground. Reeling from ugly revelations and unable to trust anyone, she takes
refuge way off the celebrity grid in her family's remote Michigan lake house. But the brilliant agent who helped shape her success won't give up his client—or his long-simmering passion for her—without a fight …
Andrew Weathers can't let the gifted, caring woman he's always loved wreck her career. And at first, he just wants to help her hope again. But soon their professional chemistry turns into days and nights of no-holds-barred desire—and
a resulting publicity firestorm. Now, between hard choices and potentially careerending consequences, can Paige and Drew risk a seemingly impossible happy ending?

Release date: February 23, 2021

Publisher: Dafina

Print pages: 306

Sample

Another lawsuit, more media scrutiny . . . Bullshit.

Paige Mills tossed the court document she’d been reading aside. “What can we do?”

“Fight” was the one-word reply from Paige’s divorce attorney, Demita Strong.

Fight. The notion seemed almost foreign in light of the circumstances. Perhaps it was Paige’s reputation as Black America’s Sweetheart that had colored her view of the entire process? Or maybe she’d been a naïve fool?

Paige had built an impressive career in television and motion pictures playing strong and relatable characters. Fans loved her because she was approachable and sweet, kind and giving, loving and loyal. She was a good daughter, a good friend, and a good wife. That wasn’t an act for ticket sales and ratings. Paige was all those things in real life, not just reel life. She’d never been anything but herself. She’d never wanted to project an image that wasn’t true. When she married Julius Reeves, she thought it would be forever. And when it wasn’t, she’d assumed that he would let her go without a fight. After all, the deterioration of their marriage was his fault. Not hers.

“What if I’m tired of fighting?” Paige said.

Demi squeezed her hand, a comforting gesture that Paige appreciated more than her attorney knew. “Be tired. But don’t stop. You can’t let him win.”

Divorce wasn’t for the faint of heart, but Paige’s soon-to-be-ex-husband had made the entire process a nightmare. Multiple court dates, restraining orders, and threatening texts were becoming Paige’s new normal. But she should’ve known he wouldn’t make it easy. Millions of dollars were at stake, and Julius had prolonged the proceedings with frivolous motions and crazy demands. He’d purposely painted her as an emotionally abusive control freak in the media. Julius had even intimated that she’d had major indiscretions of her own, knowing it could affect her brand and possibly destroy her reputation. Basically, he’d decided to try to pull her down into the mud with him. He was a petty, evil asshole.

Making the decision to split was hard enough, but watching it play out on the blogs, in the tabloids, and on television made it worse. Especially since she’d gone into her marriage with every intention of staying married. Paige had put her heart and her acting career on the line to support Julius, holding her head high and holding him down through everything. Until she couldn’t anymore, until being there for him started to affect her own emotional and physical health, until she couldn’t deny that her husband wasn’t worth the energy or the effort.

The fact that he’d cheated on her through most of their short-lived marriage was hard to accept. Finding out that he’d fathered a child with her ex-publicist was a tough blow, too. Infidelity and a secret baby were huge, but not insurmountable problems.

But her breaking point came with his alleged history of sexual harassment and assault, as well as the subsequent indictments against him. That made their already complicated situation unbearable.

Julius had humiliated her time and again. He’d turned what she’d once thought was beautiful into an ugly mess. And she needed it to stop. Now.

Taking a deep breath, she turned to Demi. “Okay. What’s next?”

Over the next hour, they formulated a plan of action. More filings and more court dates, but Paige was resolved to do what needed to be done in order to move forward with her life. While Demi worked on the legal aspects, Paige communicated with her team about the specifics. Her publicist, Skye Palmer-Starks, would protect her brand, while her manager continued to handle her business. Her assistant would organize everything else and her agent . . . Where the hell is Andrew?

Paige dialed his number. Straight to voicemail. Setting her phone on the table, she tried not to read too much into Andrew’s absence. After all, he was a senior agent at Pure Talent. And she wasn’t his only client, she wasn’t his only responsibility. Still, she couldn’t help but feel frustrated with him.

“I need to step out for a moment, Demi.” Paige walked out onto the patio. She’d requested that Demi come to her house because she didn’t want to have to deal with the paparazzi. They’d been relentless in their coverage of her and Julius.

Taking a seat on her favorite chaise lounge, she stretched out and called Andrew again. Voicemail. This time, she left a message. “Andrew, I’m not sure what’s going on, but I need to talk to you. Please. Call me.”

When news of Julius’s infidelity surfaced, Andrew had dropped everything to come to Paige’s aid. He stayed by her side through the release of her last movie. Then he disappeared.

From the very beginning of her career, Andrew had been there for her, working behind the scenes to facilitate her rise to stardom. Recently, he’d stepped back, allowing his assistant to handle most of the day-to-day work. And she had no idea why.

With a heavy sigh, she dialed Vonda.

“Hi, Paige. Give me one second.”

Hushed voices and muted laughter in the background let Paige know the junior agent wasn’t alone. Vonda had worked as Andrew’s assistant for years before her promotion to junior agent. The younger woman had already garnered a reputation for being smart, thorough, dedicated, and very capable.

Vonda came back on the line. “Okay, I’m sorry. Just left a meeting and needed to get to my office. How are you?”

“Hanging in there. I’m trying to reach Andrew. Can you tell me where he is?”

Silence.

“My calls keep going to voicemail,” Paige continued. “Is he out of town?”

“Let me check his calendar.” Vonda cleared her throat. “Hm . . . He’s in meetings all day and tomorrow. And next week, he’s in Atlanta. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Paige gave Vonda a rundown of the latest development with the divorce. “I’m hoping the judge dismisses this motion, but if he doesn’t, I’d like to talk about possible next steps. Shooting is supposed to start on my next project, and I’m wondering if the dates are firm or if they can be pushed.”

“Let me make some calls,” Vonda said. “I’ll get back to you.”

Paige swallowed past a hard lump in her throat. Vonda had done exactly what Andrew would have done, but as good as the junior agent was, she wasn’t him. “Great. Thanks.”

Ending the call, Paige typed out a quick text to Andrew. But she didn’t hit the SEND button. Instead, she deleted it and stuffed her phone back into her pocket. It was way past time for her to stop depending on him or anyone else.

“Everything okay?” Demi asked when Paige walked back into the room.

Taking a seat at the table, Paige shrugged. “I’m okay.”

“Got an email from one of Julius’s attorneys.”

Paige rolled her eyes. “Let me guess . . . another motion? Maybe he took out an ad about my double life as a prostitute and my secret affair with his father?” It was a bad joke. Paige knew that. And Demi knew it, too. The sad part? She didn’t even put it past him to try to defame her in that way.

“They want another meeting,” Demi said, without acknowledging Paige’s sorry attempt at humor. She tapped her fingers against her keyboard, then closed her laptop. Turning to face Paige, she added, “They’re requesting we move the settlement conference up.”

Paige leaned back, narrowing her eyes. “After declining every single one of our requests to move the date up? Hm. Interesting.” Goodwill gesture? I think not. Julius could not be trusted under any circumstance, which was why she’d filed for divorce.

“I’m not confident this isn’t another attempt to get to you,” her attorney said, echoing her internal thoughts. “I’m perfectly happy to tell him to go to hell. But I know you want this over, and I’m here for you.”

Finalizing the divorce was Paige’s ultimate goal. And it would be nice if they could settle things without going to court. The last thing she wanted were pictures of her leaving the courthouse every day plastered on every media outlet.

“If I agree, it has to be a neutral place, preferably my choice. No media. No cameras. Only one attorney.” Over the last several months, Julius had trotted out countless attorneys for various things. He’d even hired a crisis management attorney at one point. “Four people. That’s it.”

“Of course,” Demi agreed. “You know I don’t play that.”

Nodding, Paige exhaled slowly. She trusted Demi. The attorney’s stellar reputation and impeccable record made the decision to hire her easy. And because she’d been recommended by Skye. Oh, and also because of the attorney’s nickname—The Divorce Whisperer.

“Fine,” Paige said. “Let me know when.”

Demi stood and packed up her laptop. “I’ll do that.” She smiled. “In the meantime, I need you to relax.”

That’s easier said than done. “I’m trying.”

“I know it’s hard. What you’re going through is difficult for any woman. Your celebrity status adds another layer of stress.”

Before Paige met Julius, she’d tried to keep her relationships as low-profile as possible. She’d rarely dated men who worked in the industry, because she preferred to have an escape. But that charming bastard had wormed his way into her heart and convinced her to give him a chance. He’d wooed her and fooled her into thinking he was different, that he wasn’t the average high-powered Hollywood director, that he’d protect her and keep her. And she’d believed him. Now she was paying the price for having faith in a man who’d basically lied to her every day of their marriage.

“You’re going to be okay.” Demi squeezed Paige’s hand. “You will. That much I can promise.”

“Thank you, Demi. I appreciate the work you’ve done for me.”

“The work I’ll continue to do until he’s behind you in your rearview mirror, crying that he doesn’t have a pot to piss in.”

Paige laughed. “That’s quite the visual.” And, damn it, she wanted to see it.

“Then we’ll celebrate.” Demi picked up her bag and her purse. “I’ll call you.”

Walking her to the front door, Paige said, “If I don’t answer, it’s because I’m on set. If it’s important, get a message to my assistant.”

“I will. Talk to you soon.”

A few minutes later, Demi was gone, and Paige was alone. She padded through the house to the kitchen and poured a healthy glass of merlot. Grabbing her iPad, she stepped back out on the patio to watch the sunset.

The stunning view of the Pacific Ocean had been the selling point for the purchase of her house. The Malibu property was everything she’d needed to put literal and figurative distance between her and Julius after the scandal broke. Whenever she felt angry or disappointed or sad, she’d sit outside and think of how blessed she was despite her current predicament. It was her little slice of heaven during trying times, an oasis away from the hustle and bustle of her public life. And she loved it.

Taking a sip from her glass, she picked up her phone and dialed Andrew again. Voicemail. Again. “Where are you, Andrew?” she mumbled aloud. “And why do I feel like you’re avoiding me?”

Paige glanced at the time. “He’s late,” she grumbled, staring out the window. “He probably won’t show up.”

The settlement conference had been rescheduled three times since Julius’s attorneys requested it. That morning, Demi received an email asking to change the meeting date and location again. Demi sent the following response: Meet today or we’ll see you in court.

Demi scribbled something on a pad of paper. “If he doesn’t, he doesn’t. That doesn’t change our plans.”

Standing, Paige stomped over to the window and peered outside. Strong Law had offices in a prime location on Wilshire Boulevard. She could see the Pure Talent Los Angeles office from the window and wondered if Andrew was back from Atlanta.

It had been a week since she’d talked to Vonda, and the talented junior agent had handled everything with the studio for her. She still hadn’t heard from Andrew, though. The two-word text he’d sent explaining that he was “very busy” didn’t count, in her opinion.

Paige crossed her arms over her chest. “Where is he?” she grumbled. But she wasn’t sure if she was referring to Julius or Andrew. Or both.

“We’re fine,” Demi said. “It’s a tactic that some attorneys use. They think it gives them the upper hand. It always gives me the edge.”

Paige didn’t understand what Demi meant by that, and she didn’t really care. She had faith in her attorney. Tugging at her suit jacket, she leaned against the table. My feet hurt. She considered kicking her shoes off and slipping on the flats she’d packed in her bag.

As the only child of superstar multiplatinum recording artist and actress Tina Mills, she’d been thrust into the limelight at an early age. She’d lived the bulk of her early years on the road, touring the world with her mother. Even then, she hated to dress up, hated to feel uncomfortable in her clothes. That hadn’t changed, even now that she was a star in her own right.

Paige had been acting for years. She’d been dressed by top designers, made up by talented aestheticians, styled by brilliant hairstylists, but Paige was a jeans and T-shirts type of woman. Most days, she didn’t even wear makeup or even do her hair. She’d intended to show up to the settlement conference in a pair of slacks and a simple blouse, but her assistant had nixed that idea. Chastity had shown up at her house early with a new suit, four-inch pumps, and matching accessories.

Pulling both shoes off, she walked over to the table and opened her bag. By the time she’d switched to the more comfortable flats, Julius and his attorney arrived.

“Ladies,” the attorney said, strutting into the room like he owned it. He set his briefcase on the table. “I’m sorry we’re late.”

Demi didn’t respond, so Paige took the cue from her.

“Good morning, Paige.” Julius sat in the chair across from her and smirked. “You look tired.”

Paige stared at him but didn’t rise to the bait. Demi had warned her beforehand that Julius might try to piss her off, to get her to react in a negative way. And Paige didn’t want to give them any leverage.

“Gentleman, you called this meeting.” Demi shifted in her seat. “If you’re not prepared to discuss a potential settlement, you can go. If you are, I will ask that you refrain from antagonizing my client. I will not have you disrespect her in any way.”

Julius snickered. “Whatever.”

“Don’t try me,” Demi said. “Trust me, you don’t want to.” Julius’s attorney, Michael, slid a leather folder over to Demi. “We’ve reviewed your proposed settlement and made several notes.”

Demi made no move to pick up the folder. “I hope you realize there’s no real room for negotiation. Paige and Julius signed ironclad prenuptial agreements. It is a waste of the court’s time and my time to continue prolonging this, and it’s in your best interest to settle.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Julius glared at Demi, before turning hard eyes on Paige. “Since we’ve been married, your net worth has increased tenfold—because of me.” He pointed at his chest. “I made it possible for you to make the millions you did last year. I just want what’s mine.”

Paige’s stomach turned. How the hell did I marry this man? He’d proven more times than not that he was incapable of acting like a human being.

“Okay, we’re done.” Demi stood and shoved the folder back toward Julius and Michael.

Paige peered up at her attorney, making sure she kept her face devoid of the shock she felt at the abrupt change in direction. “Demi?”

“Wait,” Michael said. “Let’s calm down and talk about this.”

“I told you when you arrived—late—that I won’t allow my client to be disrespected,” Demi warned. “Either you control your client or get out.”

The other attorney whispered something in Julius’s ear before turning to them. “We’re good.”

Demi took her seat again. “That’s what I thought.”

“I just want what’s mine,” Julius muttered.

“What’s yours is what was agreed upon in the prenuptial agreement you signed.” Demi leaned forward. “And let’s not forget the fact that you cheated on my client, you lied from day one, and more than likely, you will be going to jail soon. My suggestion? Sign the papers and focus on your criminal trials. Because I’m sure you’re going to need all the help you can get there.”

Instead of giving them the leather folder, Michael pulled out two documents and handed both to Demi. “Please, if you’ll look at the proposed settlement, I think you’ll find it fair.”

Paige took the offered copy from Demi and scanned the document. As she turned the pages, she wondered when the other shoe would drop. So far, nothing looked out of the ordinary. It basically read like the proposed agreement Demi had forwarded to Julius weeks ago. Except . . .

“You want my house?” Paige yelled. Heat flushed through her body and her heartbeat pounded in her ear.

“Yes, I do,” Julius sneered. “You purchased that house while we were still married. It’s community property. And I want it.”

“You’ve never even stepped foot in that house,” Paige growled.

Demi called to her, “Paige?”

But Paige couldn’t hear anything except the loud voices in her head that had warned her against marrying Julius. She couldn’t see anything but the smug look on his face right now. Friends, colleagues, her mother . . . they’d all told her not to do it. They’d begged her to reconsider, to walk away from him. But she’d plunged ahead, floating on a cloud of lies and making the biggest mistake of her life.

“There’s no way in hell,” Paige said. “You think you can come in here and demand that I give you anything? After what you did to me?” Demi placed a hand on Paige’s arm, but there was no calming the anger that had consumed her.

“I’m willing to have you buy me out.” Julius leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs in front of him, like the smug bastard he’d always been.

Asshole.

“Pay me half of the value, and I’ll sign the papers,” he said. “And you can continue to be the stupid woman you’ve always been.”

Paige turned to Demi. “Can I use your red marker?” she asked.

Frowning, Demi said, “You’re not signing this.”

“Please?” Paige held out a hand.

With a heavy sigh, Demi placed a red Sharpie in Paige’s hand. “We should talk about this before you sign that.”

“No need to talk. I’m done talking.”

“As your attorney, I’m going to highly advise that you take a step back. We’ll discuss everything later.”

Ignoring her attorney, Paige bent low and scribbled two words in big capital letters on the front page: FUCK YOU.

It had been two months since that disastrous settlement conference, and Paige was still married to Julius. After she’d scribbled those two big words on their proposed agreement, the meeting was over.

Before Julius could say anything, Demi had ordered Julius and Michael to leave the building. Since then, he’d tried to contact Paige several times, via text, via phone, via email. He’d even shown up to the studio when he knew she’d be there—and promptly got arrested for violating the restraining order she’d had on him.

Despite her objections, he’d sent a Realtor to her house to assess its value. The poor Realtor had no idea what was going on, but found out soon enough when Paige told the woman exactly what she could do with the clipboard she was holding.

With the divorce hearing fast approaching, Paige couldn’t help but worry about the outc. . .