Perfectly Scripted Read online

  Perfectly Scripted

  by Christy Pastore

  Disclaimer. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously; any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events or locations is entirely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction. Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement.

  Warning: Please note this novel contains explicit sexual content and crude language and is intended for mature audiences. Some subject matter may be difficult for persons who have been victims of rape or abuse. Parental/reader discretion is advised.

  All Rights Reserved. This book contains material protected under the International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of the material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission of the author. This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. If you would like to share this book with others please purchase a copy for each person. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people.

  ©Cover Design and Formatting by Mayhem Cover Creations

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  Cover Image ©bart78

  Editor: Mickey Reed

  http://www.mickeyreedediting.com/p/freelance-editor.html

  Proofreader: K. Donald

  Publication Date: November 16th, 2015

  ISBN: 978-0-9907099-4-7

  Perfectly Scripted (The Scripted Series, #2)

  Copyright ©Christy Pastore 2015

  All rights reserved

  The Weekends Series

  Fifteen Weekends

  BONUS: Fifteen Weekends Free Stories

  Fifteen Weekends Later (TBA)

  The Scripted Series

  unScripted

  Perfectly Scripted

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  “With each passing day I was falling deeper into his world.”

  I’d never believed in fate until the moment I kissed Ronan Connolly. And even though it could have been my emotional undoing, there was nothing I could do to stop the whirlwind of excitement and thrilling days that followed.

  Pushing me. Pulling me. Throwing me deeper and deeper into him. Into us.

  We’d spent a week secluded inside the four walls of the posh York Hotel Penthouse sharing our deepest secrets and engaging in our most primal desires. The longer I stayed, the further I fell.

  There was no turning back, and I was left with only one realization – that he was the one for me.

  Back in the real world, Ronan and I had settled into our new life together as a couple. We were done overcoming jealous exes and lingering scars. But, when reminders from the past come flooding back, new secrets are revealed, shattering the trust we worked so hard to achieve.

  Fate brought us together.

  Passion ignited our souls.

  Love gripped our hearts.

  That same explosive combination perfectly conspired to tear us apart.

  Perfectly Scripted is the dramatic conclusion to Ronan and Holliday’s steamy love story that began in unScripted.

  MATURE CONTENT

  This story contains sexually explicit material and is intended for mature individuals over the age of eighteen.

  COPYRIGHT NOTICE

  BOOKS BY CHRISTY PASTORE

  ABOUT THE BOOK

  DEDICATION

  QUOTE FROM KATHARINE HEPBURN

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  EPILOGUE

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  PLAYLIST

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  This one is for all the fan girls. Thank you for allowing me to share Ronan and Holliday’s story with all of you. The fairytale exists— don’t be afraid to fight for it.

  “Love has nothing to do with what you are expecting to get - only with what you are expecting to give - which is everything.”

  ~ Katharine Hepburn

  Two and A Half Years Ago

  California

  Holliday

  For the third day in a row, I woke up to the sound of pouring rain. Outside my window, the sullen, dark-grey clouds blanketing the sky perfectly complemented my depressed mood. I eased out of bed, clutching my ribs, which were still sore from the attack.

  The attack. The rape. The assault that had nearly taken my life.

  This morning’s pain was slightly less than recent days— a pounding headache, stiffness in my back, and aching muscles in my arms and my legs. Standing in front of my mirror, I was relieved to see that the areas around my nose, my cheeks, and my eyes appeared less swollen. The bruises, however, were still gross, having turned from a dark blue to a sickly yellow green.

  I stared at my reflection, contemplating taking the shears or Perry’s razor to my long, blonde hair and giving myself a makeover—the Britney Spears kind. On second thought, better not. Mom would surely have me committed in a flash.

  After grabbing my medication, I padded downstairs to my parents’ kitchen and poured a glass of water. The bandages between my thighs itched like crazy. I wanted to rip them off and scratch the hell out of my burnt skin.

  Swallowing the pills, I wondered how much longer this would be my daily routine. Then I placed the glass on the side of the sink, where my gaze fell to the note on the counter.

  For a moment, I thought about calling Mom to ask her to pack another bag for me. I didn’t feel right adding more to her busy schedule though. She’d insisted that, during my recovery, I stay with her in Malibu. Perry agreed, so I hadn’t been able to say no. Mom; Sofia, her housekeeper; and Constance, my mother’s best friend, all cleaned up the mess at my house in Los Angeles. I was glad I didn’t have to go back to face the carnage. From what I understood, my place was on its way to being redecorated and refurnished. All thanks to Mom and my stepfather, Perry.

  I sent a text to let her know she could find me over at my house. She immediately responded, saying she’d meet me there after her meeting. Then another message came through. She was worried that I wasn’t mentally prepared to go back.

  Fuck. I didn’t know what my reaction would be. It was my house. A house couldn’t be scary, right?

  An hour later
, I parked the car in my garage, turned the security system off, and walked into my kitchen for the first time in what felt like forever. Upon entering, I was hit immediately with the smell of fresh paint. I looked around, hardly recognizing anything, as it seemed nothing from my former home existed. Everything was white, including the new quartz countertops and padded chairs at the breakfast bar. My appliances were bright and shiny, the tags from the vendors still attached. Even the wine rack and dishes had been replaced.

  This was an extreme home makeover, even for my mother.

  My heart stopped as I stood in the dining room, and my eyes drifted to the living room. Not even new carpet, furniture, and drapes could shut out the dark and ugly memories from that day. I closed my eyes, but that only conjured images of Derek hitting me and the others ripping my clothes from my body. To escape the horrible visions, I bolted up the stairs to my bedroom, where I frantically gathered some personal items. After shoving clean clothes into my suitcase, along with my camera, my sketch pad, and my jewelry box, I retrieved my facial mask from the bathroom.

  More time. I just needed more time to heal myself, and then everything would go back to normal.

  At the sound of my back door opening, I shouted, “Hey, Mom! I’m in my bedroom!”

  As I was zipping my makeup bag, a familiar voice drifted through the air that was not my mother’s.

  “Hello, Holli,” he said coolly.

  In hopes it was a hallucination caused by the medication, I quickly spun around. My worst fears were confirmed. There, in the doorway of my bedroom, stood Derek, tall and powerful in a navy tailored suit. As he slinked towards me, ice skated through my body, freezing all of my muscles.

  Unable to move an inch, I was trapped between his towering frame and my bed. I stared at him for a long time. All the caring feelings I’d once had for him were suppressed, and emotions—ones I couldn’t name—were reeling to the surface.

  “We need to talk, sweetheart,” he said, his tone calm and even.

  Sweetheart? Is he fucking serious?

  He swept me up in his embrace, crushing me to his chest. I inhaled the faint smell of tobacco and musky cologne. Then I tried speaking, but nothing came out. His arms wrapped around me like heavy chains. Numbness settled in my limbs. My emotions were pulled under a wave of distress, leaving me without enough oxygen or strength to reach the surface. After a few moments, something in me snapped and I let out a scream, causing him to release me from his weighted hold.

  “Do you feel better?” he asked, crossing to stand near my dresser.

  Without a second thought, I sprinted out of the room. Everything was a blur as I ran, but I was too slow. Before I reached the stairs, he grabbed me.

  He picked me up, carrying me back down the hallway. I pounded my fists on his chest, begging him to let me go. After he’d tossed me back on the bed, I winced at the pain in my ribs.

  “Derek, what the fuck are you doing here? Did you come to finish the job you started?” I scoffed.

  “No, I’m not here to hurt you. I came to apologize,” he replied, taking a seat on the bed.

  “You think an apology will fix it, huh? ‘Oh, baby, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. It will never happen again.’ And then what, Derek? I’d magically forgive you for nearly killing me and allowing your sick buddies to…” Tears grew thick in my throat. “No, thanks, asshole.” I clenched my jaw. “I don’t care to live my life as an abused woman. Now”—I paused while inching up off the bed—“get the fuck out of my house! I am two seconds away from calling the cops.”

  He stalked towards me. “You’re not calling the cops, Holli Grace, because you are too smart for that.” His dark gaze swept over me as he traced the curve of my jaw with this finger.

  My heart rate picked up— and not the way it used to when Derek would touch or look at me. There was no rush of excitement; no, something different was bubbling inside me. As waves of sickness crept up from my gut, my legs gave out. I stumbled backwards, landing on the bed once again.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. I think so,” I replied, placing a hand on my forehead. “My meds make me feel woozy. Or maybe it’s just the illness of being around you.” I glared at him.

  “Holli, come back to me, please. I promise you this will never happen again.”

  Derek was fucking delusional. Or insane. His black eyes bored into me. Yeah, he was easily both.

  “Derek! You fucking did this to me!”

  He turned away, which angered me even more. Adrenaline kicked in as I tramped towards him.

  “Look at me!” I screamed, pointing to my face. “You beat the shit out of me! Look at my face. Look at my body! You are savage, not to mention a fucking criminal. I broke up with you, and this is what you did to me. Do you really think I’d ever come back to you? You raped me, Derek! Need I remind you that you also let your friends terrorize me? And you fucking destroyed my house!”

  Tears flowed down my cheeks as I yelled the last words. Throbbing pain flashed behind my eyes, and the roaring of my blood pounded in my ears. My emotions went for a ride on a carousel. Venom flowed through my veins. Doubt sucker-punched my soul, and misery took hold of my heart.

  “And you’ll never touch me again— ever.” I sobbed. “You should be in fucking prison!”

  He tramped towards me, grabbing my throat. “Take it back,” he snarled.

  My hands flew to his arms, trying to pry his grip from my neck. “No. You’re exactly…the man your…enemies say you are,” I managed through strained breaths.

  When he released his hold on me, I stood tall, rooted to my spot. Derek placed both hands on his hips, watching me. A momentary ceasefire settled between us, but the quiet was deafening and uncomfortable.

  “You’re a cold, shrewd, soulless bastard,” I spat.

  His eyes narrowed and shot to the right, as if he had to think about the meaning of the words.

  “What’s the matter? Can’t handle the truth?”

  In one swift motion, he hurled me to the floor. My head bounced off the carpet, and blackness and stars flashed behind my eyes. Then he knelt down, his body looming over mine. Certain he was going to kill me, I said a silent prayer, stiffening my body for the onslaught of pain.

  “Listen to me carefully, Holli,” he said, his long fingers digging into my chin. “The moment you got into bed with me for business, I acquired you. You became an asset, an investment. The moment you shared my bed with me for pleasure, I owned you.”

  I laughed. “You don’t own me. And I’m certainly not bound to you or your business by contract or otherwise.”

  He leaned closer to me, his face etched with anger. “If you think you can walk away from me and everything I’ve given you, then, sweetheart, you are sadly mistaken. I warn you. Having Derek Saunders as an enemy is not a particularly wise choice.”

  “Whatever you do won’t matter,” I snapped. “Do your worst. Oh wait. You already did. What happened before will never happen again. My memory is suddenly remembering who attacked me. I think the police would be interested in that information.”

  He stood. “If you so much as mention my name to anyone about this incident or cry rape, I’ll come back here and, yes, I will finish the job.”

  First, he’d wanted me to come back to him. Now, he’d threatened to kill me. Every fiber of my being coiled and shrank.

  Derek jerked me to my feet. Once I’d gained my balance, his glaring, dark eyes met mine. Wrapping my arms around my body like a shield, I looked away from him. I desperately wanted to run away and hide from his frightening intensity. But then he gripped my hair, twisting my neck back so that I was facing him and his ferocious glare.

  “And, sweetheart, I know plenty of places in Death Valley to bury a body. Trust me when I say no one would ever find you.”

  As he smoothed my hair behind my ear, a shiver curled around my entire body. Taking a step back, he straightened his jacket and his cuffs. Relief washed over me as he headed for the do
or. And with that, Derek Saunders slithered out of my house, leaving me standing alone, under his chilling words, which hung in the air much like the dark clouds outside.

  To make sure he was gone, I watched him climb into his black Range Rover and drive off. After running to the security pad on the wall downstairs, I punched in my alarm code. I was safe— for now.

  I pulled my phone from my pocket. With shaky fingers, I managed to find my sister’s name and hit send.

  In one brief but detailed phone call, I told her about my secret life with Derek and the not-so-wonderful things I had done for him and his business. And through sobbing words, I divulged the full story about my attack. Needless to say, Charlotte’s voice seethed with anger and shock at my admission, but she never judged my decisions.

  “That’s it. I’ve heard enough. I want you here in New York, far away from that cruel, demonic bastard,” she bit out. “There’s a job waiting for you at my company. Promise me you’ll get the fuck out of Malibu and come here.” Her voice was filled with concern. “Do you hear me, Holliday?”

  As I stared out the window, the clouds dissipated and a stream of sunshine poured over my skin. Swallowing the lingering tears, I finally managed to stop crying.

  “Okay, Char. I’ll move to Manhattan. I promise.” I ended the call and took a long look around my bedroom. Then I unlocked the balcony door and stepped out onto the cool stone tile.

  The breeze whipped through my hair. I breathed deeply, inhaling the familiar scent of sunshine. Memories of hiking in the canyons, late nights out in posh downtown restaurants, and Sunday afternoons at the beach all flooded my brain. Salty ocean spray, tangy citrus from my neighbor’s orange trees, and eau de car exhaust all pricked my senses. I savored it all, wanting this to be the lasting reminder of my California home.

  But, sadly, it was not.