Mafia Daddy’s Smart Little by Mary Potter
CHAPTER THREE
Jennifer
As I crossed the street and headed toward the back door of the fancy restaurant where my best friend worked, I began to picture Laurel’s reaction when I broke the news to her. She would be overly excited. I was sure of it.
Who wouldn’t be? I had just met Holland Kennedy.
The first time I heard about him was on the radio. He had just released his debut track named ‘Give In to Me’ and was getting recognition for the impressive creation.
Holland was a good singer. The tabloids talked about his melodious voice and captivating looks. Every girl in America wanted to go out with him.
That lasted until three years ago. Holland was accused of raping a whore he took to his apartment. The prostitute’s accusation wrecked his image. Most of his fans hated him, calling him a man who had no respect for a woman’s body.
His ratings dropped and Holland Kennedy vanished, retreating out of the spotlight.
By the time it came out that the woman had falsely accused him, Holland’s career was over . Or so I thought. A man who had had a taste of fame couldn’t possibly get a taste again.
However, that wasn’t true for Holland. He came from a wealthy family that would effortlessly put him back back in the spotlight if they wanted to. Holland was a son of the Baxter family—one of the founding families of Leevens.
The Baxter and Coast families were responsible for the development of the town. Thirty years ago, the two families had a falling out and became bitter enemies. The Coasts were able to send the Baxters packing, leaving them the in charge of Leevens.
Holland’s mother had been Greg Baxter’s sister. She died ten years ago.
I knew all this about Holland because I had looked him up last night. It had been a surprise that a celebrity like him would run into my father’s pub, seeking protection. He was exactly the way the news had portrayed him–tall and dark-haired with a smile capable of melting your heart. When he had looked at me in the back room, I had felt myself giving in to his hazel eyes. I had to restrain myself from reaching forward and kissing him.
Then he had asked for a phone, made a call, and left the pub right after thanking me again. As I watched him leave, I told myself that I had to see him again. Holland was rich. He could change my life forever.
“What are you doing here?” Laurel asked when I walked into the restaurant, pulling me aside.
“I have something to tell you,” I said.
My friend broke into a frown. “Don’t tell me you’re in trouble. Did that guy get your address?”
“No, no, not that.”
She was talking about the dude who had called me last night. I could still remember what I said to get him off the phone. He would never find out who I was. Never.
“Then what happened? You found another guy? Jen, I need us to stop doing this.”
“Well, you’re going to change your mind after I tell you who I met,” I said.
“Holland Kennedy,” I said after a pause.
“Shut the front door!” Laurel exclaimed. “You’re joking, right?”
“No, I’m not,” I responded. “He just came into the pub, claiming that someone was after him. You should have seen the look of shock on my face.”
“That’s not important,” Laurel said. “I want to know if you got his number.”
My excitement vanished. That was the problem. When I met Holland, it hadn’t occurred to me that getting his number was the first step to my success.
“You didn’t?” Laurel remarked. “How could you forget?”
It was ironic that she was pissed off that I had failed to get Holland’s digits. Wasn’t it Laurel who talked about quitting just two minutes ago?
“It just happened,” was the only answer I could give.
“How in the world are you going to get another chance to be with him, in the same room?”
I thought about it. To me, it wouldn’t be that hard. I had come up with a plan.
“Holland is in Leevens. There will be another opportunity to meet him.”
