The Secret Wife Of Hollywood's Monk

ollywood elite. It smelled of expensive

Gilmore

ng a kale smoothie. She saw Darius Clark sitt

in her compact mirror

surprise as she walked by his tabl

ile polite but tight. "K

invited into the chair opposite him. "You know, I played pia

s," Darius said evasively,

r voice, leaning in. "Especially after what happened with poor

on shifted. He lo

rius started,

urant wen

silence that only happened

dy tu

doors. He was wearing a charcoal suit, no tie

as it. A photo op. Her and Hol

ng her brightest, mo

d enough for the paparazzi

. He walked straight p

" Holt said, dropping a manil

hand half-extended.

kly. She stepped close

ust wanted to say how sorry I am. About the gala. What

ed to her

like she was a st

voice was low, but it carri

," Kennedy said, her smile faltering

. "And I don't appreciate strange

ughed nervously. "We're

ed, his voice turning

hung in

uth fell ope

uggest you stop tweeting about

rius, nodding once,

adjust his sunglasses. His suit

dy sa

d his cuff down with a smooth, practiced motion,

pink velvet scrunchie, the kind a t

spot where it had be

mi

holson didn't wear th

rned into somethin

're