Unscripted Read online

  Unscripted (The Scripted Series #1)

  By Christy Pastore

  Copyright © 2014 by Christy Pastore

  All rights reserved

  This is the ARC edition. If you did not receive this ebook from the Author or one of her representatives, it is an illegal copy. You may not make this e-book publicly available in anyway. Copyright infringement is against the law. If you believe the copy of this e-book you are reading infringes on the author’s copyright, please notify the author right away at: info@christypastore-author

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places 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.

  Warning: Content contains explicit sexual content and strong language and is intended for mature audiences. Parental/reader discretion is advised.

  Formatting& Cover Design by L.J. Anderson

  Mayhem Cover Creations

  Editors

  Laura Silverman

  K. Donald

  Publication Date: December 9, 2014

  ISBN 978-0-9907099-1-6

  This book is dedicated to all the people who still speak to me after reading my “dirty book.” For AJ who begged me to write a sexy hotel bathroom scene. And for Rachel, who seconded that motion of bathroom sex. You are both welcome. Love you all.

  About the Book

  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

  Epilogue

  Sneak Peek - After the Break

  Acknowledgment

  About the Author

  Books by Christy Pastore

  “His gaze on me was intense, I couldn’t look away. I felt as if I was revealing my entire soul to him in this moment.”

  The range of emotions I had experienced with Ronan felt like a topsy-turvy spinning roller coaster. Suddenly I was awake for the first time in what felt like years. Every fiber of my being was filled with heated desire, passion, lust and fear, and all I wanted was more… more of everything, more of him. How had I just lived these past few years only going through the motions? But, as glorious as all of this was, was I kidding myself? Could it be real? Or just a moment in time - a few days of thrilling and scary excitement rolled into one? The moment before you hit that first big drop on your favorite coaster, you fall, and then it's over.

  This isn’t your typical Hollywood fairy tale where the typecast ordinary girl next door meets the famous handsome actor and they fall in love. Despite the emotional and physical scars that serve as reminders of Holliday Prescott’s past, she has evolved into a strong young woman. Ronan Connolly has loved and lost, but he’s never been in love. The weight of Hollywood’s expectations and the scripted games people play have left him bruised but not broken.

  He's always followed everyone else's script and she wrote her own. That was until fate swept in with other plans.

  “Will there be anything else for you Miss Prescott?”

  “No thank you, Eli, and for the hundredth time call me Holliday, please.”

  “Yes, Holliday, a fitting name for the most beautiful woman in all of Manhattan. I’d celebrate you every day if you were my lady,” he said sweetly.

  “You really have a way with words, Eli,” I said, handing back the credit card tray.

  Leaning closer to me he whispered, “If you like my words you should see what I can do with my tongue.”

  Eli pulled back and shoved a hand through his dark hair sweeping it back out of his brown eyes.

  I shook my head as a smile crossed my lips, “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

  “Things are picking up. I need to get back to the bar,” he said pointing towards the revolving glass doors.

  I turned my gaze back towards the window and watched as the busy streets bustled with holiday shoppers scurrying to finish their lists before the impending snowstorm approached. With arms full of bags and packages, New Yorkers were hailing cabs, waiting for their town cars and rushing to the subway with all their festive goodies in tow. The inside of the hotel was warm and cozy. The fireplace crackled. My hands were warmed by the delicious Chocolate Kiss in which I was indulging. Two young girls ran by where I was seated and bumped my arm almost causing a fashion emergency. I barely escaped spilling the hot drink all over my white cashmere sweater. If that had happened, my sister surely would have killed me. The sweater was one of her latest designs from her fall/winter collection. The girls were entranced by the beautifully decorated Christmas tree adorned with red and silver ornaments and bows. Several shiny metallic packages embellished with gorgeous red, green and blue ribbons sat beneath the tree, coaxing the girls into rattling the gifts.

  I glanced around the lobby to see if a frantic parent or nanny was following close behind the two curious and wide-eyed girls but didn’t see anyone who seemed to be looking for children they’d lost track of. I kept a close watch on them as they shook several packages, running their fingers over the bows and laughing. Smiling, one of them ran up to me. She was holding a small silver present. Giggling she asked, “What do you think this is?”

  It shocked me that this pretty little girl with brown hair would speak to me. Didn’t your parents ever tell you not to talk to strangers?

  Her hair was loosely curled. A black velvet headband neatly held the swirling locks off of her face. She was wearing what appeared to be a Lanvin black dress, which I recognized from their latest collection. My sister’s twins were accustomed to more than a few items from the Lanvin, Dior and Burberry children’s wear collections.

  I smiled at her adorable face. “What do you think it is?” I replied.

  Very quietly, looking me straight in the eye, she answered, “I think it’s chocolate chip biscuits.”

  Upon hearing her speak again, I quickly detected an accent. It was a bit thicker than English, perhaps Irish or even Scottish. I looked at her quizzically. “Biscuits? What are chocolate chip biscuits?”

  Taking a deep sigh, she replied, “You Americans and your words.” She giggled again and waved her hand at me playfully. I was now intrigued even more by this young girl whom I suspected was a bit dramatic.

  “Biscuits are cookies silly.”

  Giggling I asked, “Cookies huh? What makes you think that?”

  “My daddy says the best things come in tiny packages. He says that girls like tiny gifts way more than great big gifts,” she stated very seriously while making a big circular motion with her hands and standing on her tip toes.

  Your dad is smart man. I’d love to peek at your mom’s jewelry box.

  Wrinkling up my nose and smiling I said, “Let me guess. You think chocolate chip cookies… I mean chocolate chip biscuits… are the best thing ever?”

  She nodded her head fiercely as her sister came up and stood beside her smiling, saying, “No, Sugar Snap cookies are the best.”

  “No, they’re called Ginger Snaps,” she corrected her sister sternly.

  The other young girl was dressed exactly the same way except her long brown hair was straight with two white bows clipped on either side of her head.

  “My name is Holliday. What are your names?”

  Giggling uncontrollably they both said, “Your name is Holliday?”


  “Like holiday presents?” asked the girl with the straight hair.

  I nodded, giving her a wink. “Something like that.”

  I couldn’t help but smiling at these two lovely faces. I wondered who they belonged to. They told me their names were Leah and Jade. Leah had the bouncy curls, and Jade had the shiny straight tresses.

  “Where are your parents?” I inquired politely.

  They exchanged devious glances and then Leah said, “We left Nanny Ruth in the room because she fell asleep.”

  “Ahh-gain,” Jade said loudly, rocking back on her little heels.

  Sensing these two were a mischievous pair I decided to play their little game. I pulled out two sheets of blank paper from my messenger bag along with some of my colored pencils. I handed the papers to the girls, keeping them entertained while I asked them a series of questions.

  I asked them if they knew what room they were staying in. They said it was not a room with a number and it was way high upstairs. Of course it was— children running around in Lanvin don’t usually associate with a three digit hotel room and standard pillowcases. This adorable duo was undoubtedly staying in one of the lavish suites, maybe even one of the penthouses. I inquired about their last name, and they said it was Connolly. I could only hope the front desk would forego the rules and take pity on these two lost girls by deciding to ring the suite and allow me to return them safely back to their nanny. Easing out of the plush red chair, I told them I would be right back and asked if they could make sure no one took my laptop.

  “You’re very good with them,” I heard a sexy and gritty voice say.

  Looking up I found myself inches away from and staring directly at Ronan Connolly, one of Hollywood’s sexiest movie stars. I politely smiled at Ronan and wondered what he was doing in The York Hotel of all places.

  Both girls jumped up, screaming, “Daddy!” He swept them up in his strong arms, effortlessly kissing them both on their cheeks, and then he gently placed them back to their feet. Immediately I checked my makeup and hair in the mirror above the fireplace. I smiled at my reflection to check my teeth, smoothed out my loose dark brown waves that had become slightly knotted behind my neck and fluffed my blunt bangs. Ronan returned his gaze to me, flashing a half-smile.

  Ronan Connolly was the most coveted leading man these days. The gossip and entertainment blogs along with business insiders all agreed he was the hottest man in Tinsel Town and possibly the world. A few months ago he finished filming the most buzzed about film since The Hunger Games or even Gone Girl. Everyone was waiting to get a peek of Ronan Connolly playing Billionaire London Playboy, Cameron Carlisle in the film, A London Love Story. Ronan Connolly was dangerously good-looking and even hotter in person. His deep set, green eyes and curly dark, chestnut brown hair coupled with his insanely sculpted body made him the total sexy dreamboat package. Sounds cliché, but no one says, “Oh look at that double chin and beer belly. He’s so dreamy.” I’ve had a few dreams about Cameron Carlisle, or maybe I was actually dreaming about Ronan… some very naughty dreams. Is my mouth hanging open? Dear God tell me it’s not. Thankfully it wasn’t.

  I had to blink twice to make sure it was really him. “Uh… I… I’m sorry they were just,” I stammered.

  Leah saved me by saying, “Oh Daddy, Holliday is our new friend. She’s way more fun than boring sleepy Ruth.”

  Great first impression Holliday. Real smooth.

  Ronan smirked at his young daughter’s comment and gave her a pat on the head. People were starting to stop and stare, taking out their cell phones to capture a picture of Ronan. He was not affected by the sudden mob of people that gathered mere feet from where I had been sitting by the fireplace. He calmly motioned to a towering man with broad shoulders and extremely dark glossy hair who was wearing a black leather jacket. The man, who was probably in his late thirties or maybe early forties, had an earpiece or Bluetooth. I’m guessing this tall, physically fit man was Ronan’s bodyguard. They exchanged words, but I could not tell what Ronan said to the man. Within minutes the crowd slowly dissipated.

  An older woman, probably in her mid-fifties, wearing a black and red sweater and black denim jeans suddenly appeared and came rushing towards the girls. Ruth, I presume.

  “Oh my goodness, Mr. Connolly I am so very sorry sir. I took my heart medication, and I must have fallen asleep again. I will be sure to get that fixed immediately. I will call my doctor now,” she said sharply. Ruth was completely breathless and turning as red as her hair.

  “Ruth, why don’t you head back to your room and rest? I will take care of the girls for the remainder of the evening. You can have the night off. Be sure you call your doctor,” he said firmly and then flashed her his famous movie star mega-watt smile.

  “Yes, thank you Mr. Connolly. I’m just glad the girls are all right. I was scared to death,” she said while taking a floral handkerchief from her pocket and then wiping her brow. She shuffled off, and I couldn’t help but smile at her sweetness. Poor thing was obviously shaken.

  He leaned in close and whispered, “What Ruth doesn’t know is that Dean here,” motioning towards the man in the leather jacket with the almond-shaped eyes, “has had his eye on the girls since they plotted their escape from the room.”

  He smelled divine. It took everything in me not to inhale his clean masculine scent and sigh deeply. I probably looked like a grinning idiot.

  “You… you knew they were here in the lobby with me?” I asked, feeling my cheeks flush.

  He leaned closer to me. His sexy Irish accent purred the words, “Yes, I quite liked the way you handled my children.”

  Okay, not really sure what that meant, but it was sexy as hell the way he said it.

  I smiled and knotted my fingers together. Stop fidgeting! He’s just a human, not a God.

  “By the way, I’m Ronan,” he said as he extended his hand to mine. As if I didn’t know he was the most photographed man on the planet right now. His touch sent an electric current pulsating through me, and I suddenly felt my knees weaken beneath me. Holliday, snap out of this. Do not get star struck.

  I shifted on my heels. “I’m Holliday, Holliday Prescott, nice to meet you Mr. Connolly.”

  “Call me Ronan, Holliday, please.”

  Jesus Christ. Even the way he said my name made my knees weak. I took a moment to drink in this fine man standing before me. Ronan was casually dressed, wearing an indigo knit sweater with a shawl collar and dark denim jeans. His ink black Oxford style wing tip shoes and a shiny silver Bvlgari watch completed his stylish “handsome dad” look. This guy knew how to wear clothes. I guess that’s because before he became an actor he was a fashion model. I literally felt like he just stepped out of a J. Crew catalog.

  “Holliday, do you have somewhere you need to be tonight?” Ronan inquired while giving me a charming and irresistible smile.

  In your bed, writhing beneath your sheets? Fucking your brains out? Is that an option?

  “No, I don’t. Why do you ask, Ronan?”

  “Why don’t you join us for dinner in our suite? Say around seven? I’d love to discuss something with you.”

  Puzzled, but very curious, I said, “That sounds lovely.”

  “Splendid. Are you staying in the hotel? I can have Dean escort you up.”

  “Yes, I’m in room 504.”

  “Tremendous. I look forward to seeing you. Let’s go girls. Please thank Holliday for allowing you to use her art supplies to color.”

  They both said thank you while giving me a hug. Completely adorable. It melted my heart. Jade tugged on my denim jeans just above my knee and handed me the picture she’d been working on. She’d drawn a picture of a Christmas tree with piles of presents underneath. At the top she had a fireplace with some stockings hanging. I was impressed with her coloring and drawing skills— it was quite good.

  “Jade, this is so pretty. You did a very nice job.”

  I tried to hand it back to her, but she shook her head and said, �
�No, Holliday, that’s for you.”

  Smiling, I thanked her, and she giggled and clapped her hands. Ronan scooped her up. She rested her chin on his broad shoulder and waved back at me as they walked towards the elevators. I followed their path all the way to the elevators, pushing through the crowd as it swallowed them up. Then they were gone.

  I pushed my work aside and spent the next hour reading up on my Saturday evening dinner companion. I already knew some details about the gorgeous movie star, Ronan Connolly, or at least what I thought to be true via Wikipedia, IMDb and a flood of gossip sites. I made notes of his hometown: Cork, Ireland and he just had his 32nd birthday a few days ago. He married the girls’ mom, lingerie model turned actress, Emma Bailey-Wilson seven years ago on April 13th at a private country estate in Wales. Then about three months later they announced they were expecting their first child, Leah, in October. By my calculations Emma Bailey-Wilson was already knocked up before they tied the knot. Lucky bitch. Interestingly enough, nine months after Leah was born the couple announced Emma was pregnant again. Jade was born the following February.

  In the summer that same year, Emma was cast in the political action thriller, Time Bomb. Several entertainment blogs reported that she and her co-star, Dax Martin, who is one of the biggest action stars in Hollywood, began an on-set romance. The speculation was that the affair led to her and Ronan’s divorce the following year. Emma and Dax are still together today according to, well, according to anyone who pays attention to pop culture.

  Dax Martin has been linked to some of Hollywood’s most gorgeous actresses and a few high-profile supermodels. He was engaged to the jewelry designer Estelle Hughes for a brief time. I did not know that little tidbit. What I did know about Mr. Martin was that he was a hot head. The guy had a reputation for flying off the handle, punching paparazzi and even breaking their cameras. He was also part owner of a club in Tribeca and an outspoken political activist.