Perfectly Scripted Read online

“I can see you are quite smitten.”

  “What about you? Is there anyone special in your life these days?”

  She shifted, pulling her right leg over her left. “There may be one or two suitors,” she replied modestly. “We will talk about that another time.” Then she opened her bag and removed an ivory envelope with my name written in bright-red script.

  “What’s this?” I asked, taking the envelope from her.

  “That,” she stated firmly, pointing to the envelope, “is an invitation to my home on Saturday evening. I expect you there at seven o’clock sharp. I’m hosting a small cocktail party, so bring your fella.”

  She stood, tossing her coat on over her shoulders. I winced upon hearing the words because Ronan would be gone. He wouldn’t get to meet Maggie, which made me sad.

  “Ronan will be out of town, unfortunately. He has a press tour for his new movie.”

  “Pity,” she said, pursing her lips. “Well, I guess I will meet him soon enough.” She kissed both of my cheeks, and I walked her to the elevator. “Do call me, Holliday, and let’s make time for brunch in the coming weeks.”

  “That sounds lovely. I will call you.”

  “Bye, Cookie.”

  I said goodbye and headed towards the breakroom to see if anything had been catered in for lunch. During busy times, Charlotte often had meals delivered so employees could relax and not feel rushed to grab lunch.

  “Holliday, there you are!” my sister shrieked.

  “What’s up?”

  She shoved me around the corner into the hallway. My back slammed up against the wall.

  “Jeez. Manhandle me much?” I groaned, pushing off the wall. “What the hell, Char?”

  “Sorry,” she said in a hushed whisper. “You and me, liquid lunch. Let’s go right now.”

  I shook my head. “If I’m leaving work early today, it’s to go home and spend time with Ronan, not to get drunk with you.” I laughed.

  “Fine.” She blew out a breath and leaned against the wall.

  “So, what? You want to leave work for martinis and champagne only days before your fashion show?”

  “Well, that was my plan until you said no.” She frowned, crossing her arms.

  “What’s wrong with you? You’re behaving strangely.”

  She pressed her index finger to her lips and motioned for me to follow her. We rounded the corner to my office. Once inside, she locked the door and pulled the blinds.

  Now, I was really worried.

  “Okay,” she began in a hushed voice. “This might turn out to be nothing, but I just got off the phone with one of my contacts at Belle Magazine, and she told me that crazy intern I fired a year ago is claiming I stole her design ideas and have been passing them off as my own.”

  My jaw hit the floor. “Mel—”

  “Don’t even say her name,” she warned.

  This was unimaginable gossip. Charlotte had no reason to be worried though. This chick was batshit crazy. She couldn’t remember simple coffee orders or even manage to process a fabric order on time. How in the world was anyone going to believe she could have designed an entire ready-to-wear line?

  “Sis, this is laughable. Plain and simple, that girl is a nut job. Besides, that’s what you have lawyers for. Don’t worry.” I gave her a reassuring grin.

  “Well, I am worried,” she sighed, dropping to the couch.

  “Why?” I shrugged.

  She sat up from the couch, looking me dead in the eyes. “If not for anything other than the fact that we are dealing with a crazy person. Maybe I should have pressed charges.”

  “You cannot dwell on your decisions. Besides, you have a restraining order against her. She cannot hurt you or come near your home, this place, or your show. Is that what you are concerned about?”

  Charlotte stood, wrapping her arms tight around herself. “Yeah. Admittedly, I still see her wielding those scissors inches from my face, threatening me.”

  Taking a step forward, I said, “Luckily, security got there before she could harm you.”

  Tight lipped, she nodded. “Thank God for that.”

  A few moments of silence hung in the air. I watched the emotions change on her face as she remembered that encounter with Melina.

  Waving her hands in the air, she said, “Enough with this nonsense. Like you said, that is what I have lawyers for. So, tell me what’s up with you?”

  I could have told her about the conversation I’d overheard with Ronan, Ben, and Darcy this morning, but that would have been an added stressor. Instead, I smiled and told her that I was excited for the show and encouraged her to take the rest of the afternoon off or try to go home early if she could.

  “I’m planning to see Simon at his office later about this mess, and now, I’m going to call Lucan to give him a heads-up on this issue.”

  “Good. Everything will be all right. Simon is very good at his job. He’ll know how to handle this legally and quietly.” I hugged Charlotte, and then she left my office, hopefully feeling better.

  Waves of anxiety crept inside me, however. Remembering what Dr. Goodwin said, I closed the door and turned the lights off. I walked to my desk and dabbed some oil on my wrists. With my yoga mat unfolded, I sat with my legs crossed and said a quick prayer. Then I began my breathing exercises. Before I knew it, I was calm and relaxed once again I’d managed my stress without a pill, and that was a wonderful feeling. Charlotte might need me, and I made a promise to myself to be there for her through what could be a difficult storm.

  You’ve been my rock the last few years, sis. Now, let me be yours.

  Ronan

  “And these are the latest photos?” I looked at Dean, who was standing in front of my desk, holding my gaze with a steady authority.

  Dean Winters made his living by seeing ten steps ahead of everything and hearing everything surrounding any given situation. I trusted him with my life and the lives of those I loved.

  “Yes,” he answered. “Mr. Saunders was spotted at JFK yesterday afternoon by one of my contacts, and this one I took this morning of him exiting the Crowne Peninsula.”

  I returned my attention to the photos in front of me. It was hard to look at his smug face. This guy walked around without a care in the world, a criminal breezing freely from coast to coast and enjoying the best of life’s luxuries and simple pleasures. This bastard had viciously attacked the woman I loved, and I wanted justice even if she didn’t. My eyes lifted to the famed picture of Holliday from our trip to Cabo.

  “Did you confirm the meeting for tomorrow?”

  “Yes. Mr. Saunders has agreed to look at the building in the afternoon.”

  “Good,” I replied, handing the electronic tablet back. “Once you’ve finished the meeting, you’ll update me?”

  “I will.”

  “Watchful eyes on him while he is in the city.” I stepped over to the bar, contemplating a drink. “And Blake—he does not let Holliday out of his sight, especially while Saunders is breathing the same air as her,” I said, once more holding his gaze.

  “She will be safe. I assure you.”

  “Make damn sure of it,” I replied sharply, pouring amber liquid into a glass tumbler. “And, Dean, thank you.”

  As he left my office, I sat back in my chair. A hundred thoughts swirled through my mind. While I sipped my drink, anger surged through my veins. I’d get justice for Holliday one way or another, even if I had to dish it out myself. I slammed my hand to the top of the desk, the pain spreading like wildfire over every inch of my skin. The burn from the alcohol sliding down my throat mirrored the sting on the outside of my body.

  As I submerged deeper into my plans for Saunders, it was harder to control my impulses of anger. Seeking revenge consumed my thoughts. The war of rage and vengeance battled inside me against love and trust. Every day was a struggle to hide the parts of my soul that desired payback. I worried Holliday would sense my darkness, but I was an actor by profession. Slipping into the role of non-vengeance se
eker had to be done, or it could destroy us both.

  God. I loved her so much.

  I had to remain clearheaded. Never let emotion cloud your judgment.

  No mistakes.

  No flaws.

  The FaceTime app on my phone showed Emma was calling. It was nearly one in the afternoon on the West Coast. Puzzled, I clicked on the screen only to be happily surprised by my daughters’ beautiful faces.

  “Daddy!”

  “Hello, my darling girls. What are you up to? Does Mommy know that you’re calling me?” I questioned, only because my daughters are mischievous by nature. I was convinced they’d gotten that trait from their mother.

  As a young girl, Emma and her older sister, Carys would go off on adventures of their own. The summer Emma turned eighteen Carys met a drummer of an indie rock band and convinced Emma that they should follow them on tour around Europe. One evening in Scotland, the band asked the girls to dance on stage at one of their shows and photographer discovered Emma. With no objections from her parents, Emma signed a contract and was off to London working as a fashion model. I only hoped neither of our girls have the desire to follow in our footsteps. I don’t know that my blood pressure could handle it.

  “She’s right here, Daddy,” Jade said, turning the camera to Emma.

  “Hello, Ronan,” she said.

  “Emma, hello.” I waved at Jade and Leah. “What’s, uh…What’s going on, ladies?”

  “Daddy, I just had to say thank you for my lovely birthday presents,” Jade sang with laughter.

  “You’re most welcome, and when I get to Los Angeles in another few weeks, we’re going to celebrate properly, okay?”

  “Yay!” she shouted, jumping up down.

  The girls chatted about how they’d had only a half day of school that day. Then they took turns telling me about what they were doing the rest of the day. Leah showed me her new riding boots. Jade insisted she was a big girl and wanted to take riding lessons. By the end of the conversation, Emma and I had sufficiently convinced her to try tumbling instead. After saying goodbye, the girls skipped off for their afternoon of activities leaving Emma and me to chat.

  “I have some news.” Emma took a deep breath, shying away from the camera.

  “Yeah?”

  “The studio greenlit Time Bomb 2, and before you laugh, that is not the official name of the film.”

  “Thank fuck for that,” I chuckled.

  “Filming begins this summer in New York…” She looked away from the camera once more.

  “Emma, continue, please,” I urged feeling myself losing patience. “What’s going on?”

  She blew out a breath and learned closer to the camera, whispering, “Look I’m not proud of this, but Dax and I are splitting up.”

  “I’m sorry, but what do you mean you’re not proud of this?” Then it hit me, and the question abruptly shot out of my mouth. “Did you shag someone else?”

  “Really, Ronan?” Sarcasm licked over her voice. “No, I didn’t cheat on him. Our publicists want us to break up and then rekindle our romance during filming—”

  With a frustrated groan, I cut her off. “Em, don’t you get tired of this fucking game?” Tension began knotting in my shoulders at the consideration of my own publicity dilemma.

  “What else can I do? He’s an A-list action star and my career is fading away. I’m slipping into the background.” Her voice trembled slightly on the last word. Tears sprang from her eyes. “Dax doesn’t want to break up, either, and I do not want to put the girls through a publicity stunt.” She wiped the tears from her cheeks, dabbing a tissue under her eyes.

  My ears—and my heart—were filled with relief at her considerate words of our daughters. Is Emma actually becoming less selfish?

  “I’m in no position to give advice. I’m facing an issue of public appearance myself,” I admitted.

  Arching an eyebrow, she said, “Your new girlfriend isn’t getting you the spotlight attention you need for the film?” Her eyes closed. “I could have told you she was positively too boring for the tabloids.”

  “I’m very protective when it comes to her. Tread lightly.”

  As she continued muttering her thoughts regarding Holliday and how I should keep my options open for a brighter star for the sake of my career, I turned my head away from the camera in an effort to stifle a groan of frustration.

  “My relationship with Holliday is not up for debate or your judgment. I need you to accept her place in my life.”

  “Do you love her?”

  “Not that isn’t any of your business, but yes, as a matter of fact, I do. She is everything to me.”

  She stared at me for a long moment. “There was a time when I was everything to you.”

  Jesus Christ. What was up with the women of my past and this need to take a trip down memory fucking lane? I wasn’t going to indulge her either.

  “Emma, let’s be honest. Ours was a marriage of celebrity convenience. Before you and I wed, you convinced me it would up our star quality. It worked for a while, but your need for the spotlight drove an already growing distance between us, and then you turned around and cheated on me with Dax, an even bigger star. Let’s not be delusional about our feelings towards each other. We had a lot of fun together, and the best thing about our relationship is our girls.”

  She gave me a knowing grin. “If you had to do it over again, would you still have married me?”

  “That’s hard to say.” I exhaled softly, not wanting to seem insensitive. “What I do know is that I could never have been the man you wanted in your life. You and I, we were too young, and the glitz of Hollywood steered us down a path that, looking back, I honestly don’t think either of us would have elected.”

  Sliding her hair over her shoulder, she shifted in her chair. Her eyes met mine with certain vulnerability. “Yes, I suppose we were young and stupid. God, the lengths we’ve gone to for fame.” She huffed out a laugh.

  “Over the years, I’ve been bitter about our getting married and divorced. I could place blame on you. In fact, I have. But the truth is that we probably needed each other back then, don’t you think?”

  To my surprise, more tears began to fill her eyes. Emma could be a little cold; more accurately, she could probably turn bath water to ice in an instant cold. In all the years I’d known her, I’d often thought her “British Bitch” persona was a total act. But beneath the icy layers was a much warmer person, a person with a big heart and a lot of love to give. Perhaps I’d misjudged her the past few years.

  Again, I softened my voice. “Don’t cry, Em. So we made some mistakes? But look where we are now. Not a bad life, just a bumpy road,” I said, offering a comforting smile.

  “Oh, Ronan.” She sniffled through a laugh. “I’ve treated you unbelievably cruelly over the years. Sometimes I wonder how you could ever stand sharing children with me. I don’t like who I’ve become. I used to be such a fun-loving free spirit, but now, I’ve somehow managed to cloak myself in this unfeeling bitch character, and for what? To land more parts? A lot of good it’s done me. This movie is the only job I’ve managed to land in months.”

  Stunned by her admission, I absorbed her words. Maybe, like me, she was tired of the game as well.

  She cleared her throat. “Would you like to hear something humorous?

  I nodded.

  “The truth is—I rather enjoy Holliday.”

  My eyes bugged out of my skull, and Emma laughed like I’d never heard her laugh before. It was a sincere and playful sound.

  “You do so make me laugh.” She smiled widely. “The girls carry on about her as if they’ve known Holliday all their lives. Plus, it doesn’t matter how bitchy I am to her in person or on the mobile. She kills me with kindness. It takes great difficulty not to like her.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” I said through another laugh. “You don’t need to be a bitch, Emma. It’s a tired role for you, and I think, deep down, you know you’re better than that.”

/>   “But can I afford to take on any other persona? My agent specifically books me for auditions where female characters are snotty or the bitch.” Her fingers nervously toyed at her silver necklace.

  “And how’s that working out for you?”

  She dropped her gaze to the floor, mumbling, “It’s not.” Then, sighing heavily, she shifted closer to the camera again. “What do you propose, Ronan?”

  “I propose you fire your rubbish agent. In fact, change up your entire team. Don’t let them dictate your personal life. If you and Dax don’t want to break up and roll through a publicity stunt, then don’t.”

  There were other ways to capture headlines in Hollywood, and a good publicist would know how to garner that attention needed. If Emma’s agent had been doing her job well, my ex-wife would, at the very least, have still been modeling, possibly even walking the runways of New York for Fashion Week.

  “How about I give my publicist a call and let her know you’re considering new representation?”

  Her eyebrows rose, showing the creases in her forehead. “You’d do that for me?” she asked, her voice polite.

  “Don’t be so surprised. Remember, I’m a nice guy,” I said, feeling my smile grow wide.

  She laughed and shook her head. “Thank you, Ronan. I truly appreciate your kindness. Chat with you soon.”

  “Sure thing. Kiss the girls for me.”

  After I’d ended my video call with Emma, I smiled. Six months ago, hell even six weeks ago, a conversation like this wasn’t even possible. But it felt good. Maybe our relationship was headed for a change.

  Change, change was good. What wasn’t so good was the feeling I had about tonight, our last night together before I left. Knowing Saunders was in town and that I was leaving made me want to take Holliday with me, or at least lock her away in an Ivory tower from any harm. I decided to go with the more sane choice and trust in Dean’s vow to protect her. In no uncertain terms, he and Blake were to keep her safe at all costs. Their jobs depended on it.

  One thing I was certain of: Despite Ben’s earlier objections, I fully intended to have Holliday by my side on the red carpet when I returned to the city for the premiere. I was done playing these wicked Hollywood games.