Caught In An Unexpected Web Of Love

Veronica's eyes immediately landed on the paper Martin threw right beside her work laptop before she looked up at him with raised brows over her reading glasses.

"I have gotten you the best fitness trainer in the world, just like we discussed." He said smugly, his pride radiating as though he had just scored her an award.

A soft exhale escaped Veronica's lips as she slid off the reading glasses and gently placed it on her keyboard, making sure their gazes locked.

His excitement was pretty much obvious, to her annoyance. Well, he wasn't the one who was expecting to shed her beautiful curves to meet the marriageable standard of her actor fiancé.

"Are we still hiring a trainer? I thought we'd agreed that you love my curves like hell."

She chipped in with a seductive smile, the kind she bet would work wonders on Martin. Since she couldn't win the battle with words, perhaps it was time to resort to using her charms.

Veronica made sure to include a pout that she knew made her cupid-bow lips look as hot as hell. There was no way Martin wasn't falling for that.

"But babe..." A sigh escaped Martin's lips as he settled on the chair across from her in her study. "I thought we already agreed that you need to shed a little bit of weight, you know because of the tabloids, media's hot gossip and all."

Veronica tried her best not to let her lips fall inches apart at Martin's words. Even though a hint of annoyance was slowly slipping into her pores, she struggled to keep up the s*xy look.

"Are you saying the tabloids and the media would mind that your wife is curvy? Because I know I'm not fat."

He sighed again, and Veronica bit back a groan. That sigh of his was beginning to get under her skin.

This afternoon wasn't going well in terms of her writing. She was experiencing a block in expressing the chemistry between her characters, which was surprising and annoying. She was in a relationship on its way to becoming a marriage, yet she was suddenly finding it difficult to showcase chemistry.

Quite frankly, she couldn't decipher why her romance books were selling faster than most authors who had been in the writing industry way before her debut. Well, she didn't want to believe that it was because she was birthed by a Hollywood diva.

What she needed right now wasn't her fiancé up on her neck about some fitness training sh*t. Not when she was in the middle of a hot brainstorming session.

But apparently, her clueless Hollywood star of a boyfriend who didn't have time to think of anyone but himself— just like her Hollywood Diva of a mother— couldn't care less.

"Baby no. You're not fat but..." The surge or hope that reared its head in the pit of my stomach at his first word was squashed to pieces by the second one. Here I was thinking he was referring to the first part of my statement.

'Holy hell! I'm never winning this argument, am I?'

She trained her expression not to slip as she listened to him drone. "You're not fat, but your weight needs a little adjusting to fit the Hollywood standard."

This time, Veronica willingly let the pouty expression on her face slip as her jaw slacked. She couldn't help it anymore.

"Weight?" She echoed with widened eyes. A year ago when she first met Martin in one of the celebrity dinners her mother dragged her to, he couldn't stop gushing about how curvy and different she was from those skinny Hollywood actresses, and now, he wants her to shed those curves?

"You didn't think so when we first met." She muttered, struggling not to roll her eyes. She was p*ss*d, coupled with the frustration of her writing.

Martin's shoulders fell as he leaned forward, his hand cupping hers that was splayed on the leather oak table, his other hand rubbing his forehead thereby messing with the fringe of his brown hair that already looked tussled.

On a normal day, she would have found that gesture cute, but right now, she was near her boiling point and therefore not susceptible to messy fringes and cute faces.

"Your curves are great. Believe me, I like them..."

"But?" She cut in, with clenched teeth, not caring if she was making her anger obvious.

"The Hollywood standard needs to be kept. In other words, the curves should be allowed to go, at least till after the wedding."

It was a strenuous struggle to keep her teeth from grinding against each other in renewed anger. What the heck did he mean by till after the wedding? Like her curves were some grass that grows back even after they are cut?

"How many times do I have to make this clear to you, that I'm not following any goddamn Hollywood standard, Mart?" She started in a low clipped voice, that was a deep contrast to the anger boiling within. "That my family's life is dedicated to Hollywood doesn't mean I want to be a part of it?"

A side smile slid across his face as his gaze grew lazier. "But you're already a part of it, sweetness. You're marrying me, remember?" He drawled in that cocky voice that was adding fuel to the furnace brimming inside of her.

‘God! Martin. Can you be any more clueless?’

"Since you're getting married to the most famous actor in Los Angeles, you need to look the part, baby." He went on, rubbing her hand like that would do anything to calm her down.

"Our pictures are going to be everywhere. And I want your beauty to beat that of those actresses, okay?"

Pressing her trembling lips together, she shook her head, wondering what the heck she had gotten herself into. "This is not some competition, Mart. Or a goddamn pageant."

"I know, babe." He cooed. "Just do it for me, okay?"

Blowing out a deep breath, Veronica allowed herself to fall back against the seat, her eyes reflexively peaking at the flyer he dumped beside her work laptop.

"Her name is Antoinette Fredrick. The best fitness trainer in North Hollywood."

The picture of an athletic lady with great shoulders and long hair that was boyishly styled to the side stared back at her with a sleepy— yet fierce green eyes...

Wait...

Veronica shook her head. The color of her eyes wasn't green. She might have lost a creative touch for a minute, but that eye color sure as hell wasn't green.

Caribbean blue... It came to her without too much thought. She could remember describing one of her characters with that eye color.

Who knew she would actually find a real person with that eye color? Now, she definitely needed to meet this trainer in person.

"Please, Vee." Martin went on, dragging her gaze away from the picture. "Just give her a call, or should I have your mother call her for you? She—"

An alarm set off in Veronica's head as her eyes widened. "Wait! You told my mother about this?"

Martin ducked his head slightly, knowing he had poured another round of diesel into the furnace, thereby setting her ablaze.

Veronica had given him a strict warning to keep her mum out of their love life. It was enough that she automatically made herself her wedding planner. Now, Martin was talking to her about her shedding weight.

"Baby, I didn't mean to. But we kind of started talking about it during the Grammy awarding of one of my friends last night and she said it was the best idea to—"

Veronica's mind blocked out the rest of the things he said. Knowing her mother, she would love to involve herself in every detail of her life. It was only her writing career that she hadn't made herself a boss of.

Well, it wasn't as though she supported her from the start. But she was glad she had her father's support, being that he was kind of in the field, but was a famous Hollywood script writer.

"I was the one who made arrangements for Antoinette..."

Veronica rolled her eyes. As though that would make her feel any better.

"I'm sorry, babe. But she means well. Will you please consider this? The gym boss will be emailing me her number this evening. Can I forward it to you?" He fixed an expectant gaze at her, as though she was her lifeline.

Veronica let out a long sigh. She was already hating this, especially now that her mother was involved.

Especially now that she's involved!!

She knew there was no way her mother wouldn't start hounding her at every dinner and lunch if she had started meeting with the trainer.

Struggling with an ongoing book four weeks before her wedding, and having to lose the most precious things many Californian ladies would kill for— her curves.

Could fate be any harsher?

"Vee!" Martin continued whining.

"Fine!" She yelled before she could stop herself and slumped on the table. Argument lost.

She would consider meeting with this lady, if not for anything, for those stunning Caribbean blue eyes.

Antoinette watched with amusement dancing in her eyes as Harry wheeled the last moving box up to the front porch with great difficulty, then stood straight with a victorious smile amid slight panting.

"I did it, didn't I?" She batted her eyelids playfully in between soft gasps. "Who said stamina is only reserved for masculine women?"

"No one." Antoinette threw back, a chuckle escaping her lips as she jerked the box lightly as though it weighed nothing and headed inside the larger room which would clearly serve as a sitting room.

She heard Harry's snort behind her. "Show off much!"

Antoinette threw her head backward in a loud laugh as they stepped into the confines of the sitting room with Harry trailing behind her, holding her waist like an old woman.

"Don't tell me you're already tired from just this single box you carried?" She asked, turning over her shoulder to throw her mock quizzical gaze.

Har