Read Hollywood Girls Club for Free Online Page B

husband without ruining her new Chanel pool sandals. Now Damien stood before her, glistening and blocking the morning sun. At fifty, he still had a phenomenal body. Tall, lean, and tan. Damien was vain, priding himself on his physique. He could easily pass for a man in his thirties.
    “Like hell I don’t,” Celeste said.
    “You’re overreacting. It was a prank by the crew on set. Those panties are not Brie Ellison’s.”
    A prank ? Damien’s claim was bullshit and Celeste knew it. But bullshit that a part of her (the part of her that still loved the prick standing before her) wanted to believe.
    “We just got married, for God’s sake,” Damien said.
    “I know, I was there—the one in white.”
    “Yes.” Damien paused. “White. That was a stretch, even for you.” A lascivious grin lit up his tan face.
    God, he had the most magnificent smile. He was an ass, but he had perfect teeth.
    “Yes, and marriage, the monogamy bit, seems to be a stretch for you,” Celeste shot back bitterly.
    “We are not getting divorced.” Damien sat on the edge of her lounge chair. “I just spent half a million dollars to marry you. A wedding you begged me for. We’re not getting divorced. There is nothing going on.”
    “Really?” As if throwing down an ace, Celeste tossed the Enquirer she’d been reading into Damien’s lap. There, on the cover, were Brie Ellison’s surgically enhanced lips sucking Damien’s earlobe. He glanced down at the cover and smiled.
    “A picture is worth—”
    “A thousand words,” Damien finished. Leaning in, he rubbed his strong body against her tensed arm. “Come on, Celeste,” he whispered. “You know it’s fake. What if I believed everything this rag printed about you? Isn’t there a two-headed baby in Roswell that some alien fathered when you were abducted by a UFO?”
    Celeste fumed. He was right. The Enquirer wasn’t enough to go on. But the Enquirer , the crotchless panties, and the fact that Brie Ellison was starring in Damien’s next film, well, that was plenty of proof.
    “Cici. I love you.” He leaned in and nuzzled her neck. “You still drive me wild. You know how film sets are; they’re like high school. And they’ve gotten worse. You haven’t been on one in a while.” Damien lifted the strap of her Chanel bikini and kissed her shoulder.
    Heat slid down her back and her skin quivered with his kiss. God, she wanted him and hated him both at the same time.
    “I was supposed to be on one this fall,” Celeste pulled away from his touch. “Or have you forgotten?”
    “So that’s what all this is about. I told you the studio won’t make your deal. They don’t want to pay your quote. Twenty million is too much for this film, and Brie is only getting paid a million.” Damien reached out and slipped his finger under the clasp of her swimsuit top. “I’ve missed you.” He pulled up the fabric and started kissing her breast. “Let’s go to the pool house.” His voice was husky and his eyes had that vacant look of lust that all men’s take on when they’re hard.
    Heat simmered low in her body—a heat fueled by desire pushed aside her anger. Her body wanted to give in. Even as their marriage soured, she knew their sex life would never wane. Catching herself, Celeste once again pulled away from Damien’s embrace.
    “Can’t,” she said, pulling her swimsuit top down. “I have to get to the studio.”
    “Studio? What studio?” Damien looked surprised.
    “Worldwide.”
    “Who are you meeting for lunch at Worldwide?”
    “It’s not lunch. It’s business.”
    “Yeah, right,” Damien said and playfully tried to pull her down on top of him. “Come here.”
    Celeste again pulled herself away from her husband. “We start shooting in a week.”
    “ We who? What the hell are you talking about?”
    “Damien, my love, don’t you read the trades? Daily Variety ? Hollywood Reporter? Or are they also just rags printing lies?”
    He glared at her. Score one for