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  Heiress

  Fiona Davenport

  Copyright © 2019 by Fiona Davenport

  Cover designed by Perfect Pear Creative Covers

  Edited by Manda Lee

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Heiress

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Epilogue

  Epilogue

  It’s Vegas, Baby

  Chapter 1

  About the Author

  Heiress

  Colette Moore is set to inherit one of the biggest studios in Hollywood. She grew up out of the spotlight but now that she’s taken on a new role in the company, she has to learn to deal with the drama. Like mixing business with pleasure.

  Tyson Grant is one of the top agents in the business, with a reputation for getting the job done. He’s a Hollywood insider who knows everyone in town. Or that’s what he thought before he finally meets the only person who matters.

  Warning: We hope you’re in the mood for an over-the-top hero who has his eye on the prize, and will do whatever it takes—including kidnapping—to acquire her. Because this Hollywood with Alexa Riley story will hold you captive.

  Chapter 1

  Colette

  “This is all going to be yours someday.” My dad smiles as he spreads his arms wide. For the past decade, he’s kept his private life—which only consisted of me—separate from the professional. But after I graduated from college last month, it was as though a switch had been flipped and he couldn’t wait to immerse me in the business he’d been running on his own after my mom died.

  Some of my favorite childhood memories were of running around the studio backlot while my mom soothed ruffled feathers on set. She had been the delicate touch that had softened my dad’s rough edges. The perfect partner to help him run the studio. A terrific wife. And the absolute best mom.

  With her gone, my dad hired a nanny to take care of me after school. Then another to help on the nights when he had to work late. There was also a driver to take me to and from the private, all-girls school he enrolled me in from seventh grade through high school. And a chef to make sure I had a well-balanced diet. He had to hire an entire team to take care of all of the things my mom used to do for me on a daily basis. She had been just that awesome.

  But even with all those people taking care of the day-to-day stuff, I wasn’t a poor little rich girl with a parent who didn’t care. My dad always made time for his little princess. He went to all of my piano recitals, started the standing ovation when I gave the valedictorian speech at high school graduation, and took me on lavish trips during spring breaks. He also hooked me up with coveted internships in New York the past few summers.

  The only thing he didn’t do was let me near anything connected to Grier Studios. He kept me out of the limelight. No movie premiers. No stories in the gossip rags. As far as he was concerned, I was untouchable. I always figured it was his way of protecting me because he’d never recovered from the loss of my mom.

  But now I am all grown up, with a bachelors degree from the University of California, Berkeley. Even with with a double major in business administration and film studies, I managed to graduate a semester early. I’ve also racked up job offers from all across the country over the past two months, including from a couple of his biggest competitors. My dad won’t hear of me accepting any of them. The thought of me moving away is the kick in the butt my dad needed to lift the ban from me being connected to the family business. He’s quickly warmed to the idea of me working alongside him, and his enthusiasm is contagious.

  I drop down onto the leather couch against the wall across from his desk and kick off my heels. He’d taken me on a tour of the entire studio property, which seemed at least twice as big as I remembered. We’d used a cart to drive between buildings on the backlot, but my feet are still killing me. “It’s incredible how big the studio has gotten. You’ve accomplished a lot, Dad.”

  “I’m sure what I’ve done will pale in comparison to what you’ll achieve after you take over.” He sits down in the leather club chair facing me. “You got your drive from me, your heart from your mom, and your brains from both of us. I have no doubt you’ll make Grier Studios the biggest studio in the United States.”

  “Only because you’ve clawed your way into the top five already. You’ve set me up for success.” My dad had three of the biggest movie releases in the last five years. He’d earned two Best Picture awards. People were already talking about his next blockbuster release coming out this summer. Grier Studios was a big enough name in the game now that A-list actors were knocking on his door to get cast in the leading role for his projects. “And it’ll be a long time before you hand those reins over. By then, you will probably have gotten us there already.”

  “With both of us putting a hundred and ten percent into the studio at the same time?” He kicks back in his chair and grins. “I see great things in the near future for Grier Studios.”

  I return his smile, but I am more than a little worried by the whole one-hundred-and-ten-percent thing. I don’t have a problem with working hard, but I want more in my life than just business. I want to be successful, but I also want to find someone to love. To build a meaningful relationship with. To become a loving wife and mother, finding the perfect balance like my mom had done.

  I’m not sure my dad is ready to hear that since he hasn’t just kept me out of the media’s eyes all these years—he’s also made sure I was so busy that I never had time to date. I’ve lived a very sheltered life, even in college, and now I am ready to spread my wings in more than just my work life. I figure now is as good a time as any to broach the topic of my dating life but am interrupted by a soft rapping sound at the door.

  Dad's executive assistant cracks it open and sticks his head through the gap. “Don’t forget you have that meeting in half an hour with Tyson Grant from TAG Management.”

  My dad nods, his smile from earlier long gone. “Thanks for the reminder, Charlie. Colette will be taking the meeting with Mr. Grant, but her office isn’t ready yet. When he arrives, please set him up in the small conference room and let her know he’s here.”

  Charlie’s gaze darts to me. “Colette’s taking the meeting?”

  “Yes.” A muscle in my dad’s jaw jumps, and he narrows his eyes. “That’s what I said.”

  “Alrighty then.” Charlie flashes me an apologetic smile before backing out the door.

  As soon as we are alone again, I ask, “Who’s Tyson Grant? Why am I taking your meeting with him? And why did Charlie look so freaked out by it?”

  My dad sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. He is a mixture of sad and pissed off when he answers, “Tyson is the owner of TAG Management. He represents some of the biggest names in Hollywood, like Austin and Theo Hayes.”

  With clients like that, he has to be a major player in the industry, and my first official day isn’t even until next week. A guy like him is probably used to studio executives wining and dining him. Not dodging meetings. “That answers my first question. What about the other two?”

  “Tyson is a pit bull when it comes to his clients. It’s part of what’s made him a success in a cut-throat business, but it also means he sometimes doesn’t know when to back off.” My dad leaned
forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together. “He recently took on a client I blackballed a few years ago. He was a child actor turned stuntman. The guy broke the one rule I have a zero-tolerance policy for. He was using in the middle of filming, and when he got injured because of it, I had to scrap all the tape with him in it and reshoot with someone new. He went into rehab a few months later and has supposedly been clean ever since. Now he’s gearing up to make a comeback, and Tyson wants me to lift the ban on him because it’s making it hard for him to land a role with any of the major studios. That’s never going to happen, which you can let him know when you meet with him.”

  That explained the look Charlie had given me. He’s been my dad’s assistant as far back as I can remember. He knows as well as I do why my dad takes a hard line against drug use—the guy who’d been driving the car that killed my mom had been high as a kite on a mixture of cocaine and oxy. After losing my mom like that, my dad made it known far and wide that he wouldn’t tolerate drug use by anyone connected to Grier Studios. Considering how common drugs are in Hollywood, it hadn’t gone over well at first, but my dad refused to back down.

  With how big Grier Studios has gotten, nobody argues with him about it anymore. Except for Tyson Grant, apparently. And I am the one who gets to deliver the bad news. It looks like my dad is throwing me straight into the deep end of the water. “This is bound to be interesting.”

  Chapter 2

  Tyson

  “Right this way, Mr. Grant.” Charlie, the executive assistant for the head of Grier Studios, leads me down a hallway lined with movie posters.

  He looks back at me with a strange expression, a mixture of nervous and guilty. Something is off and, knowing Carson Grier like I do, my bullshit alarm is blaring. That’s when I notice that we aren’t headed toward Grier’s office. This hallway leads to a series of conference rooms where I’ve spent plenty of time negotiating contracts. I roll my eyes at the attempted power play.

  Charlie comes to a halt in front of the smallest meeting room and again, throws me an awkward glance. “Please have a seat. Someone will be right with you. Can I get you anything?”

  I drop my briefcase on the rectangular, wooden table and my eyes narrow as I give Charlie a piercing stare. “Someone?” I repeat, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “That’ll be all Charlie.” A sultry, feminine voice floats in from the hallway and—holy shit—my dick springs to life. Charlie beats a hasty retreat, but I barely notice his departure because I’m in a state of shock. I can’t remember the last time my dick was interested in a woman, and I’ve only heard this one’s voice.

  Then I get my first glimpse of the owner and the world shifts under my feet, making me feel unsteady and hoping I don’t embarrass myself by falling over or drooling or something.

  Almond shaped eyes, with irises so dark, the brown reminds me of espresso. Long, curly black hair tumbles to her tiny waist and sweet flare of her hips. She’s not very tall, but somehow, her legs still seem long and shapely. Though, I’m not happy about how much of them is on display due to her short, grey, pencil skirt. It’s not an unprofessional length, I simply don’t like other men seeing what’s mine. Especially when she’s wearing bright-red, fuck me heels. The thought of another man imagining those legs locked around them makes me want to scoop her up and take her to a place where we are all alone.

  My eyes travel back up, and I try extremely hard not to linger on her generous tits pressing against her white blouse. It’s hard as fuck because they are truly mouthwatering. Her neck is slender and made for soft kisses, her nose is cute, but the real centerpiece is her mouth. Those full, plush lips, painted blood red, are made for deep, passionate kisses and will look incredible wrapped around my cock. Speaking of which, I surreptitiously step to the side so that the back of a chair hides the steel rod tenting my suit pants.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Grant.” Her tone is all business, but all I can hear is that sexy voice calling out my name as I bury myself inside her, over and over.

  I swallow hard and hold out my hand, trying to get my thoughts back on track. “Tyson, please. Very nice to meet you, Miss…” Please don’t say Mrs.

  “Colette,” she responds, leaving me frustrated that I still don’t know if she’s married. She’s not wearing a ring but that’s not always a reliable indication these days, especially in Hollywood. “I apologize for not meeting with you in my office, but it’s being remodeled and won’t be ready for a few days yet.” She tugs her hand and I suddenly realize I’m still clasping it in mine. Her skin is soft, and heat floods my veins as I imagine what they will feel like running all over my body.

  Get your mind out of the gutter and your head back in the game, Grant.

  I clear my throat and gesture for Colette (such a fucking sexy name) to join me at the table. She walks towards the head of the table and while her back is turned, I adjust myself so that my cock is no longer pointing right at her, then I rush over to pull out her chair.

  She glances up at me in surprise and gives me a sweet smile that causes warmth to bloom in my chest. “Thank you.”

  I take the seat directly to her left and try to appear relaxed, leaning back in my seat and resting one of my ankles on the opposite knee. “I assume you’re new here?” I ask with a smile. “I certainly wouldn’t forget meeting you.”

  Colette shifts a little in her seat and crosses her legs, drawing my eyes again to how much thigh is exposed by her skirt. “Not new exactly,” she hedges. “But, taking on a new role at the studio.” She folds her hands primly in her lap and I drag my eyes up to her face, expecting to see admonishment over the way I’ve been ogling her. What I find, is a turbulent blend of emotions. Curiosity, pleasure, and desire. I lick my suddenly dry lips and have to stifle a giant grin when she emits a tiny shudder and her nipples poke the silky fabric of her shirt. “I know you were expecting my—the president, but he asked me to take this meeting on his behalf.”

  The way she stumbled over his title sparks a low burn of anger in my gut. What is she to him? I know his wife died a long time ago. Is Colette his girlfriend? Mistress?

  Then it hits me, she probably doesn’t even have a real job here. This is Grier’s way of fucking with me. Sending a nobody to relay his message that he isn’t budging in his stance against my client. This should truly piss me off, but I am more furious over the fact that Colette might belong to him, than the insult he’d just lobbed at me.

  “Colette, I appreciate you taking the time to see me, but I’m going to insist that Carson get his ass in here. No offense, but I need to speak with someone who has real authority in the company.” I honestly am not trying to insult her; I’m simply stating fact.

  However, her red lips pinch, and she glares at me, hands moving to grip the arms of her chair. “As the Assistant Vice President, I assure you I have the power to tell you that your client doesn’t have a chance in hell of ever working at Grier Studios.”

  My eyebrows fly up, and I can’t help the smile that splits my face. Her strong personality and independence are a huge fucking turn on. It also makes me anxious to tame all that fire in the bedroom. I have no doubt that this chemistry between us is going to be explosive.

  “I didn’t realize they’d filled the AVP position. I apologize for jumping to conclusions,” I say with genuine remorse. “I guess I just assumed Carson sent me a lackey to make a point.”

  Colette’s mouth curves up at one corner and her brown eyes sparkle with mild amusement. “You aren’t entirely wrong,” she admits. I laugh and her smile grows, making her beautiful face absolutely stunning. “While I am AVP, I’m new and haven’t yet earned all of the weight that comes with the position. He had two reasons for sending me. One, for me to get some experience and two,”—she tilts her head to the side and smirks—“to insult you.”

  I chuckle and give her my most charming smile. Then I lean back to grab my briefcase from where I left it and open it to pull out a stack of papers. “Wel
l, Colette, if experience is what you’re after, how about I make my case? Then you can practice exercising some of that authority to convince Carson to change his mind.”

  Crossing her arms over her chest (making it hard as hell not to focus on her spectacular tits), Colette gives me a speculative stare. “Unlikely, but have at it.”

  I push the stack of papers towards her and fold my hands on the table. “I assume you are familiar with Remington Vaughn?”

  Colette nods, then lifts the first document and scans it. “Childhood actor. Then earned himself a reputation as a stunt performer and then went on to work strictly as a stuntman. He was on that show with Austin Hayes, right?

  “Yes.”

  “Aren’t you close with the Hayes brothers?” she asks as she glances up from another paper.

  “Yes, we grew up together. I vaguely knew Remington as a kid. I only visited the set a few times, and he’s a couple of years younger than me and Austin. And, I only just agreed to be his agent six months ago.”

  Her eyes narrow as she reads the next page and her expression clouds. I know what she was looking at and I assume she’s been apprised of Carson’s stubborn opinion and why he feels as he does. It’s no secret that his wife was killed by a driver under the influence.

  “Drugs?” Her tone is disgusted and when she looks at me again, disappointment fills her brown eyes.

  I sigh. “Don’t tell me you’re going to judge him without knowing all the facts like Grier. At least hear me out.”