NUDES: A Hollywood Romance (Exposed Book 1)

  Scarlet's Letters was Russell's film as much as it was the studio’s, and this would tank everything he'd worked so hard for as well. This was his livelihood he was messing with—for what? A vendetta? A sick joke? A sadistic ploy?

  Fucking idiot! Ben slammed his hand against the steering wheel.

  He needed Shepherd Films turned around in the first year, and this film was supposed to be the key. He couldn't believe his own director had destroyed that—and possibly Ben's entire career along with it.

  As furious as he was at Russell, he was also furious at himself. He'd promised to protect Aria, and instead, he'd let someone completely take advantage of her in the worst possible way. He'd slept half the day away while she was out there alone trying to remedy her ravaged reputation.

  He'd failed to protect her. After all his promises.

  This was his fault.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Ben's car raced up the long driveway to Russell's home overlooking the ocean in Orange County. The decadence that stretched out in front of him brought Ben's already heated blood to a fast boil. It was one of the most beautiful houses he'd ever seen—and fucking Russell didn't deserve an inch of it.

  Hell, he deserved jail.

  When Ben was done with him, he'd turn him over to the cops, and then he'd find Aria and do whatever he could to help her get through this. Driving the front tires of his car directly onto one of Russell's rose bushes, Ben honked his horn several times before he threw the car into park and climbed out.

  Ben clenched his fists as he stalked up the long walkway to the front door, the warm breeze from the ocean fueling his fury. The perfectly landscaped flower beds he stalked passed sawed at his nerves, and he almost turned around to get back in his car and drive over every inch of his shrubbery rather than only the roses he’d murdered moments ago with the front end of his car.

  Destroy his flowers? Have I lost my fucking mind? He didn’t want flowers.

  Ben wanted blood.

  His fists balled as he took the stairs up to the porch two at a time, ready to break it down if he had to.

  The front door to the giant Spanish-style home swung open and a half naked Russell walked out wearing only a pair of linen pants and bohemian jewelry around his neck and wrists. "What the fuck? Who’s honking?" He looked over at Ben's car, then at Ben, and a knowing leer crept over his face. "Well, hi there, Benji."

  Ben's arm coiled his back, then launched himself forward. His fist slammed directly into Russell's face with a loud, satisfying crack.

  "AAAH! Motherfucker!!" Russell stumbled, clutching his nose. Blood was already gushing over his mouth and jaw. "You broke my fucking nose, you crazy bastard."

  "WHY WOULD YOU RELEASE THOSE PHOTOS, RUSSELL?" Ben shouted, not stepping away, but rather forcing Russell to keep moving backward until Ben had him cornered against the tan stucco wall by his front door. "WHY?"

  Russell spit blood out on the white marble floor of his front stoop. "Shit, Benji. You could have just fucking asked me that without the fanfare. I'm a pacifist, you know."

  What the fuck is he talking about? Ben's mind was swimming with rage, and Russell seemed completely calm. In pain, definitely, but any other emotional reaction was nonexistent. Fucking psychopath. "Do you seriously not give a shit about Aria? About what you just did to her career? You hate her that fucking much?"

  Russell frowned, seeming confused. "Are you kidding? I love Aria. I've been in love with her for over a year, and now the whole world knows it."

  Ben's mouth fell open, trying to process the information.

  "She would have forgiven me and come around," Russell continued, his voice gurgling as he was still holding his bleeding face. "You're the one who fucked that up for me. I see the way she looks at you. Now the whole fucking world can see how she looked at me...first."

  Ben punched him again. Square in the jaw this time.

  "Motherfucker! Stop that shit!" Russell tumbled back into the wall. "Seriously! I'm going to punch you back."

  "DO IT." Ben didn't stand down. "I dare you, you piece of shit."

  "Listen, Benji. You gotta stop taking everything so personal. This is just business." Russell was holding his chin in his hand now, massaging it gently. "Fuck, that last one really hurt."

  "Just business? This was your film, Russell. Just as much as it was mine or the studio's, or Aria's. You took all of us down with this leak."

  "Even bad press is good press, Benji."

  Ben was certain in that moment that Russell might be the stupidest, most evil person he'd ever fucking met.

  "I'm calling the police. You're going to jail for this, Russell. I know there's no way Aria approved those photos." Ben began walking toward his car, leaving a bleeding Russell on his front stoop.

  "She didn't approve them," Russell called after him. "You did."

  Ben whirled around and charged back toward the director. "What did you just say?"

  Russell’s sly grin showed a row of crimson-stained teeth from the blood dripping into his mouth. "It was your idea to leak the photos to the media." His voice got louder, and Ben took a small step back, unsure what Russell was saying, or why he’d raised his volume. "You were right, Benji. The photos did exactly what you thought they would. I'm glad you approved them before they went out. Selling Aria's tits to the tabloids was the best idea you've ever had."

  Ben's mind immediately began clicking through the other afternoon in his office when he'd approved photos of Travis and Aria to be leaked to the press. Holy fuck. I didn't look at all the photos.

  A soft gasp behind him pulled Ben from his thoughts. He turned to see Aria standing in the middle of the driveway, her hand on her throat. Her blue-gray eyes were wild, devastated, confused.

  "Oh. Hi, sweet pea," Russell greeted her, still trying to wipe the blood from his face.

  She didn't look at him, her focus solely on Ben. "Is it true?"

  Ben wanted to rush to her, pull her into his arms and assure her that he'd never do anything like that to her. He'd promised to protect her, and he'd never break that. She could trust him.

  Except he had done it.

  "Ben? Tell me it isn't true. Tell me he's lying," she repeated, desperation in her strained voice. "Please, Ben."

  Swallowing hard, he stared at her, unable to speak. He shook his head, searching his brain for anything...damn it, anything. "I…I didn't mean…"

  A sob ripped from her throat and tears began to slide down her pale cheeks. "Oh, my God. How could you?"

  "Baby, don't worry," Russell interjected. "Everyone loves a scandal. Ticket sales are going to be through the roof."

  Ben shoved Russell behind him, and rushed toward her. "Aria, I never meant—"

  "Don't touch me!" She jumped back, suddenly shouting. Turning on her heel, she began walking to her car which he now saw was parked behind his.

  "Aria!" he shouted after her, but didn't follow her.

  "Don't come near me ever again—either of you!" Then she was in her car, speeding down the driveway and out of sight.

  Ben stood there, watching her go, taking his heart with her. A lump filled his throat as he realized she would never forgive him, and he'd never forgive himself. There was no coming back from what he'd done, even if it was a mistake.

  They were over.

  The woman he loved, the future he'd pictured, the dream he'd had for them...it was all gone.

  Because of him.

  "Awkwaaaard," Russell said in a singsong tone behind him. "Women, am I right?"

  A woman stepped into the open doorway, shaking her head. "Jeez, even I thought that was dramatic."

  "Marion?" Ben's mouth fell open as he realized his ex-wife had just witnessed the entire scenario. Somehow, the worst days of his life always seemed to involve her. "You're with Russell now?"

  She shrugged, a total lack of empathy on her face. "He's putting me in his next movie."

  Fucking typical.

  "See, Benji? With such similar taste in puss
y, we should be friends." Russell draped an arm across Marion's shoulder.

  Ben punched him again, knocking him flat on his back this time.

  Marion jumped to the side, catching herself from being dragged to the ground with Russell. "Jesus, Ben! Control yourself!"

  "You two deserve each other," Ben told her, seething with disgust. He turned to Russell and pointed a finger at him. "I'm so far from fucking done with you, you piece of shit. You're fired."

  Russell grunted, coughing as he tried to push himself back up. His face spread into a bloody, sinister smile. "You can't fire me. The movie's over."

  Partially true, but damn it if Ben wouldn't find any loophole possible to get this bastard off his movie. "You're fucking done in Hollywood. I won't rest until you're either blacklisted from every studio out there, or in fucking jail."

  Ben headed back to his car, desperately trying to think of his next move. He wanted to find Aria, and beg her forgiveness. He wanted to explain everything.

  He wanted this not to be the end, and yet, the deep ache in his heart told him it was.

  And he'd never forgive himself for it.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  "Aria, honey?" Her mother stuck her head through the doorway to Aria’s childhood bedroom. "Are you awake yet? Steele is here."

  Aria had been awake for hours. Actually, she'd never slept. She'd laid in bed all night trying to process how her life had fallen apart so easily in the last twenty-four hours. Her apartment was still surrounded by paparazzi, so she’d had no choice but to seek refuge at her parent’s house which, thankfully, was in a gated community. In her childhood bed. Like a sulking teenager again.

  It was pathetic. She was pathetic.

  Every major entertainment news site had run with the story accompanied by her photographs by the time she’d woken up on Sunday, and she had no doubt it would still be a hot topic today. People picked apart her appearance, her personality, her promiscuity, her sexuality, and her career. They all had an opinion about her, like she was a commodity they could trade rumors for dollars.

  Her mother and sisters had tried to help her all day yesterday with damage control. Releasing a statement that the photos were a hack and without her permission. Police report filed and statement given. She'd even gone to Russell's house to punch him, but Ben had beat her to it. And then, of course, she'd found out about Ben’s involvement. That the man she loved had released her nude photos to the public…for what? Ticket sales? Box office ratings?

  Talk about a gut punch.

  She’d thought she knew Ben. She'd never felt so strongly about a man before—that intensity, that passion, that confidence that he…fit. But, the reality was she barely knew him. Truthfully, they'd just spent a quick frenzy of long, wonderful days wrapped around each other in bed with even longer periods of absence between.

  Once again, she'd trusted the wrong man. It was starting to become a pattern about herself she didn't like. This wasn’t who she thought she'd be. This wasn't who she'd ever wanted to be. Her mother was one of the strongest women she knew, and she'd raised all her daughters to be independent self-starters.

  She hadn't raised her to lose everything because of a man. Twice.

  "Aria?" Steele's voice finally got her to turn around. "Are you doing okay?"

  Aria sat up on the bed, rubbing her eyes. "No. Not even a little."

  "Do you want me to cancel the audition today?" Her mother asked from the doorway, looking as tired as Aria felt. She wondered if her mother had been awake all night too, and guessed she probably had.

  "There's no way they’re going to hire me." Aria sighed, shaking her head. "They won't want someone with such bad press."

  "Are you kidding?" Steele scoffed. "You're the best. They're going to want you because of your talent. Everyone has...um, skeletons in their closet. This is Hollywood. You haven't made it until you've got a sex tape."

  Aria chuckled a little at that. "Please, God, let there not be a tape."

  "If there is, I'll personally strangle his skinny little neck," Steele assured her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

  "I think Steele's right. You should do the audition," her mother added. "And I'm not saying this as your manager. I'm saying this as your mother. This man...he took something from you. If we lie down and let him, he'll take everything. Go to the audition. Take your power back, baby girl. Show the world this won't break you."

  Aria stared at her mother, feeling a small surge of confidence from the way she spoke.

  Steele bobbed her head, waving her arms in the air emphatically. "Preach, Mama Reynolds. Fucking preach!"

  Her mother laughed. "I'm going to head downstairs and set up the dining room table for you to use as a makeup station, Steele."

  "Thanks," Steele replied, then turned to Aria. "You hop in the shower, okay? Then meet me downstairs? Your mother made these delicious egg bite things, and I swear to God if you don't hurry, I'm going to eat them all."

  Aria smiled, nodding. "I'll be down in a few."

  Alone, Aria headed for the shower, shedding her clothes along the way and leaving them wherever they fell. The warm water beat down on her head and back, and she took a moment just to feel it. Just to embrace the soothing massage of its pressure on her skin.

  Tears slid down her cheeks, and she let them come. She let them mix with the shower water and fall to the tile floor, disappearing down the drain and taking her pain with it.

  When she stepped from the shower and wrapped a towel around her head, she paused in front of the full-length mirror.

  Nude.

  Until yesterday, she'd never felt much self-consciousness about her naked body. As a teenager, she'd gone through her phases, but once she'd reached adulthood, she'd embraced who she was.

  She'd had to. Being an actress was cutthroat. Every audition, every fitting—it could destroy her self-esteem if she let it. And until yesterday…she hadn’t let it. There were so many comments online following the leak of her nude photos, each more brutal than the next.

  She must wear padded bras. Tiny tit bitch.

  Boob job! Stat!

  Aria brushed her hands over her breasts, cupping them and feeling their weight. They weren't tiny, but they weren't huge either. This wasn't the first time someone had poked fun of them—mainly Russell came to mind. He’d loved to remind her of everything she…lacked.

  Aren't actresses supposed to have personal trainers? Someone teach this cunt how to do some crunches.

  She'd grown to love the swell of her small breasts, and the roundness of her belly that was just a few pounds shy of flat. Her hands slid across her belly, smooth and dewy from her shower.

  I’d bite the fuck out of that giant ass! I bet she can make those hips move!

  Fat ass. Lay off the donuts, slut.

  Bet that cunt loves getting it in the ass. I’d throw her a pity fuck if she begs me.

  Aria's hands passed over her hips, and then her bottom. She loved her wide hips and voluptuous backside. They were natural, healthy, and normal. She was a far cry from overweight, and she didn't want those comments to get to her, but...

  No. She wasn't going to let internet trolls ruin the self-esteem she'd spent a lifetime building. She wasn’t going to let the crass things men said about her touch her.

  But that was the easy part.

  As a woman, she’d been raised her whole life to ward off men’s advances and build her shield against predators. More than half the comments she’d read attacking her…they were from women.

  And she didn’t have shields for the betrayal of her own gender yet. She’d never needed them before.

  Friendships with women had always come easy for her, and she was a big believer in the power of sisterhood since she came from a tight-knit family of women. But, if she could believe the online commentary, it felt as if her entire gender had turned on her just as much—if not more.

  Repeating her mother's words in her head, Aria decided she wasn't going to let those photos
—or Russell, or the press, or Ben, or anyone in those awful online comments—tell her who she was or judge her body. She refused to be broken by their collective betrayal.

  She knew who she was.

  She was going to go into that audition just like she would have before any of this happened. She was going to ace it and get the role. She was going to prove that she was above one damn scandal. She was going to prove that she was the best for the part—that simple.

  So that's how she got the part. She sucked his dick!

  No talent hack. Has to fuck her way into a movie. Pathetic!

  Stick to porn. You suck at acting.

  This is why no one takes us women seriously. Stop using your body to get what you want and grow some brain cells. Or better yet—talent!

  Aria swallowed, trying to push the nerves in her stomach away. She could do this, right? She could rise above those words. She...wasn't so sure.

  Damn it.

  She wished it was as easy as her mother made it sound. That she could just hold her head up high and forget the things they'd called her, the assumptions they'd made, the pictures he'd spread.

  It simply wasn't that easy.

  "Aria, you coming?" Steele called from somewhere downstairs.

  Aria pulled on a silk robe and let her hair out of the towel. "Coming."

  "Hey, honey bunny," her father greeted her as she reached the bottom of the stairs. He was propped up in a recliner in front of the television in the living room, mostly immobile because of multiple sclerosis these days. Never dampened his spirits, though. "How are you feeling?"

  "Tired." She gave him a kiss on the cheek.

  He chuckled. "Well, it's like five in the morning."

  "I know. Gotta prep for this audition, but what are you doing up?" She refilled his glass of water for him and brought it back to the small stand next to his chair.

  "Oh, you know your mother. Neither of us could sleep a wink last night thinking about..."