Rising Stars & It Started With… Collections. Кейт Хьюит

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      It stood in her residence, decorated with silver and red and gold, the white lights always on whenever she walked in at the end of the day. There were no presents beneath it. She thought of her baby with a pang. He would have been almost eight months old. He wouldn’t have understood what the glitter and presents were about, but he would have likely relished the bright colors and enjoyed tearing the paper.

      Veronica didn’t bother trying to sniff back the tears that happened whenever she thought of moments like this. It hurt, but she no longer felt as if she was solely responsible for her loss.

      She had Raj to thank for that.

      Her private cell phone rang and she jumped. It was not Raj’s name on the display. She hadn’t expected it would be, yet she always seemed to hope it might. But why? There was nothing but heartache in going down that road.

      And she’d had enough heartache to last a lifetime.

      “Hello, Brady,” she said as she answered the call.

      “Angel,” he replied. “How are you? It’s been a few days and I wanted to check.”

      “I’m fine,” she said, resting her forehead in one hand. “How about you? Any celebrity gossip for me?”

      Brady chuckled. “I’ve heard some juicy things about a certain new heartthrob and a Hollywood icon,” he said. Then he spent the next fifteen minutes giving her every salacious detail of a May-December affair currently delighting the Rodeo Drive set.

      “So what are you doing for Christmas?” he asked when he’d finished the tale.

      “Nothing much. I have a country to run, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

      “Surely you can spare a few hours for fun. Come to the Hotel Lefevre tomorrow night. I’m throwing a party.”

      Veronica blinked. “The Hotel Lefevre? In Aliz City?” It was the oldest and best hotel on the island. Understated and elegant, it had suffered through the economic crisis like everywhere else. That it was still open was a miracle, though the owners had had to sell off many of the treasured paintings that had once adorned the walls, including one that van Gogh had painted for the original owners when he’d spent time on the island before going to France.

      “Yes. I’ve decided I want to go somewhere nice, and I want my friends to come, too. Aliz is a charming island. I hear it’s making a comeback.”

      Her heart swelled with gratitude and love for her friend. “Brady, I …” She didn’t know what to say. “Are you here now?”

      “We just arrived this morning.”

      “We?”

      “Me and Susan. I really want you to meet her.”

      “Susan?” She was beginning to feel like a parrot.

      Brady sighed. “The woman I plan to spend the rest of my life with.”

      Veronica’s mouth dropped open. “Brady, when I saw you in London, there was no one in your life. What happened? And why didn’t you tell me this first? It’s the most important thing you’ve said so far!”

      “It’s crazy,” he said, his voice filled with laughter. “I know that. But sometimes you just know when you’ve found that special person.”

      A twinge of pain throbbed in her heart, but she listened delightedly as Brady talked about Susan—who wasn’t an actress or a celebrity or a gold-digging wannabe who worked as a cocktail waitress while waiting for her big break. No, Susan was a veterinarian he’d met when they’d both stopped to help an injured dog on the freeway.

      “So will you come?” he finally said.

      “Of course I’ll come! I wouldn’t miss this for anything.”

      She got off the phone feeling happier than she had in weeks. So her own life was a mess, but her friend was happy and he’d come all this way to show his support for her and her country. On Christmas.

      Her eyes filled with tears again, but they were happy tears. Though seeing Brady would make her think of Raj, she would survive it. Besides, how could she be upset about being loved and wanted by her friends?

      The next day was Christmas Eve. Veronica didn’t have to work, but she went into her office and made some calls anyway. She’d already given her staff the day off, so the administrative wing was mostly silent. Afterward, she spent most of the day watching Christmas movies on television, then prepared for Brady’s party. He’d sent over a formal invitation, and she knew there would be television cameras when she arrived.

      It was part of the process, something that would delight people, and she dressed with care for the appearance. She donned a long red dress, strapless, that shimmered as she walked. The fabric was iridescent, gathered at the waist, and fell into a full skirt that was given shape by a tulle slip beneath. She wrapped a silver shawl around her shoulders and carried a small silver clutch. Silver-jeweled strappy high heels rounded out the look.

      A bodyguard in a tuxedo opened the limo door for her as she emerged from her private entrance. He was Alizean, tall and handsome, but there was no spark of desire as she gazed at him in his black coat and tie. He climbed in beside her and they were on their way.

      The media was camped out in front of the Hotel Lefrevre, and Veronica did her best to look glamorous and happy. She waved as the cameras flashed, then turned and posed—an old habit—before entering the hotel. Brady was waiting for her, a petite, smiling woman at his side. Veronica hugged them both as Brady introduced Susan. She was truly happy for them, and yet she was jealous, too.

      If only her own love life had gone so smoothly. But Susan was a delightful woman, and Veronica found that she really liked talking with Brady’s new love. Susan was down-to-earth, no-nonsense. She was pretty, but not gorgeous in that fake way that Hollywood encouraged.

      They moved toward the old ballroom, and Veronica stopped in the entry, her head tilting back as she took it all in. The grand room was decorated beautifully, with candles, greenery and shiny lights and bows reflecting from the mirrored surfaces along the walls. The plaster was chipped in places, the paint faded, but it wouldn’t remain that way for long if they had many more parties like this one. The room was filled with food and people, and Veronica’s heart felt full.

      “Thank you, Brady,” she said, squeezing his arm when he came over and handed her a glass of champagne.

      “For what?”

      “For this. For doing this here. It means so much.”

      He smiled back, his gaze flickering to a point over her shoulder before coming to rest on her face again. “You might not thank me when you see what I’ve brought along with me.”

      She looked at her friend for a full moment—and then the hairs on her neck prickled as if an electrical current had zapped through the air. She knew who she would see the moment she turned.

      He was, as always, achingly handsome. Her heart twisted in her chest. Looking at him hurt. And it made her happy, too.

      “Damn it, Brady,” she said to the man at her side. “You’re always interfering.”

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