Perfectly Scripted Page 8

  “You change the subject to Heather,” he laughed. “As we’re lying in bed. After we just had mind-blowing sex.”

  I turned to face him, propping up on my elbows. “Hey, you asked me to change the subject.”

  “You have an odd sense of timing.”

  “I think it’s odd you don’t see that Heather still has a thing for you.”

  “No. No way,” he scoffed.

  “I saw the way she looked at you,” I said. “And when you helped Heather with her bags at the hotel, she ate it up. She loved having your attention. Throwing a flirtatious smile your way, a light touch to the arm, giving you a hug goodbye. She was using any excuse to touch you. A woman knows these things.”

  “That ship sailed a long time ago. She and I both have moved on. Besides, she’s extremely happy with Grady now.”

  “Right.” My tone was laced with sarcasm. “Well, if you keep being so nice to her, she’s going to get the wrong idea.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If you continue to do little things for her, like opening doors and helping her with her bags, she might misinterpret your being a gentleman as a deeper meaning.”

  “What are you suggesting? Should I be a dick to her?”

  I laughed. “Fuck no. She might like you treating her like shit more than your gentlemanly demeanor. I’m certain she was less than thrilled when she saw me sitting in the limo.”

  “I’ll continue to keep things between her and me strictly professional. I promise.”

  “Good.” I smiled against his lips, giving him a kiss.

  After sliding his hands around my waist, he pulled me against his chest. I curled into him as he whispered gentle kisses down my shoulder and back up. His fingers brushed my hair to one side, continuing his sensual kisses. This tender intimacy only served to reignite my lust, my overwhelming need to have him inside me once again. But, instead of giving in, I decided to bring up the Foundation Gala.

  “Hey,” I began, rolling on my side to face him again. Holy God, this man has the most beautiful face. I never tired of appreciating his masculine features.

  His defined, strong jaw. His tousled, dark-chestnut locks. His impeccably groomed facial hair. The man was seriously sexy with or without facial hair, but I preferred him with a fair amount of stubble. His eyes—those piercing, jade eyes. They were the kind that seduced your soul and stole your breath.

  And that’s just his face, his perfectly gorgeous face, which had me panting for his full lips to speak words. Any words. He could read a cereal box in that sexy Irish brogue and melt panties with that masculine purr alone.

  “Hmmm,” he mumbled.

  “Tomorrow evening is the J. Edward Avalon Foundation Gala and—”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Yes what?”

  “Yes, meaning I’ll go as your date.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to think about this? I mean, you’ll be spending an entire evening schmoozing with Hollywood types and…my family.”

  “Beauty,” he said, tracing the curve of my face with his finger. “I’ll do anything for you.”

  “What about your filming schedule?”

  “Not to worry. I don’t have to be back until the day after tomorrow. I’ll have Donna e-mail you my schedule if that will help you for booking social engagements?”

  “That sounds great, but still…My family.” I let out a deep sigh. “They can be a bit…intense. You’ve met Charlotte, and my mom is…well, not as vocal as my sister, but she has a flair for the dramatic.”

  He pulled me close, kissing the top of my head. “We’ll get through it. Together.”

  We arrived at the Fairmount Plaza Hotel shortly after five thirty. Dozens of cameras and reporters were all along the red carpet.

  “Let’s skip it,” I offered.

  “Good idea. I hope you’ll think about joining me on the red carpet for my movie premiere here. I want you by my side.”

  “That sounds like a fine plan. I would love to be there for your big night.”

  My legs wobbled a bit as I stepped out of the limo. Ronan caught me by the arm, and luckily, no paparazzi were around the side entrance to witness my near wipeout.

  “I blame you for my weakened knees. I’m surprised I can even put one foot in front of the other tonight,” I teased. “I’m pretty sore. Well fucked, but sore.”

  “Unless it’s possible for you to stop looking incredibly gorgeous all the time, then you can count on me never missing an opportunity to bury my cock deep inside you. Keeping you well fucked is a top priority for me.”

  “Really? You have a list of priorities where I am concerned?”

  “Of course,” he said smoothly, offering me his arm for the short walk to the door. Then He lowered his mouth to my ear. “The list of filthy things I want to do to you might be longer.”

  “How filthy?”

  “Downright dirty,” he replied, brushing a hand on my lower back. “Wet…naked…twenty-four-seven.”

  “You’re wicked.”

  “And you love it,” he grinned.

  “I love you.”

  I lifted my hand to his mouth, and he gently kissed the back. “I’m afraid, if I kissed you right now, I wouldn’t be able to stop.” His fingers skated across the bodice of my gown. “This dress entices wildly inappropriate thoughts.”

  Since I’d only remembered about tonight’s event yesterday, that had given me limited time to shop. Before getting out of bed, Ronan had suggested I call Kerry, his girl at Saks, and have her pull some dresses for me. I’d told him that he needed to start referring to her as his personal shopper, reminding him that I was his girl, not Kerry. That remark had earned me a slap on the ass followed by shower sex.

  Not only was my strapless, burgundy Gucci gown beautiful, with its dazzling beadwork and short train, it was brilliantly accessorized with eye-catching Bvlgari diamonds. And having Ronan as arm candy, looking dashing in a classic black Dior suit, was an added bonus.

  “Keep it in your pants, Connolly,” I smirked. “Messed-up hair, smeared makeup, disheveled clothing, and flushed skin. We don’t need that kind of attention.”

  “I love it when you boss me around,” he growled in my ear.

  Upon entering the cocktail reception area, we were greeted a microphone in Ronan’s face before a reporter bombarded him with questions. Security promptly told the reporter and cameraman that there would be no interviews inside the event and instructed them to return to the media room.

  “Do we need to worry about that footage being aired somewhere?” I asked.

  “No. I know a few people who work at that network. I will have Donna take care of it.”

  Stepping into the hallway, Ronan pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket and then leaned against the wall. He was so sexy when he went into business mode.

  Turning around, I scanned the room, taking in multiple famous faces. Our table was near the stage. I didn’t see Perry or my mother anywhere.

  However, I did see Heather Young looking effortless and elegant in a silky black gown with a slightly plunging neckline. Her instantly recognizable glossy blonde hair was side-swept in cascading waves that fell below her shoulder, and that red pout was the perfect mix of dramatic and flirty. Even Lauren Bacall would have been fucking impressed.

  When Ronan returned, he set his hand on the small of my back and led me across the room to our table. I felt as if we had stepped into some magical winter wonderland. The round tables were beautifully decorated. Frosted pinecones surrounded vases with silver Manzanita branches in the center. The entire ballroom was covered with an abundance of white, baby-blue, and lavender flowers. Even the chandeliers looked as if they had been covered in ice, which gave the place a soft, romantic chill of a winter sunset.

  My gaze followed the tall man with salt-and-pepper hair, wearing a classic black tuxedo and white bowtie, weaving through the crowd. His powerful stride was hard to miss. Offering warm smiles and accepting the handshakes of Hol
lywood’s most powerful players, my stepfather, Perry, owned the room. At his side was his queen, my mother, looking regal in an off-white single-shoulder, floor-sweeping gown. Faux fur wrap and an encrusted metallic clutch in hand, she was the epitome of Hollywood royalty.

  “Here we go,” I murmured to Ronan.

  “Just breathe. I’m right here with you,” he whispered.

  “Holliday, so glad you could make it.” My stepfather kissed my cheek. “You look beautiful, sweetheart.”

  “Thank you, Dad.”

  “Holliday, stand up straight,” my mother whispered in my ear upon giving me a hug.

  I took a deep breath and pushed my shoulders back. “Mom, Dad, this is—”

  Perry outstretched his hand to Ronan. “A man who needs no introduction. Ronan Connolly. It’s very nice to meet you.”

  Ronan shook my stepfather’s hand, “Wonderful to meet you, Mr. Chambers.”

  Looking at my mother, he said, “Mrs. Chambers, lovely to finally put a face to a name.”

  Blushing like a schoolgirl, my mother exchanged pleasantries with Ronan. Then the four of us spent several minutes engaging in small talk about the decorations and the foundation’s charitable accomplishments. I looked at my phone for the time, wondering where in the world Charlotte and Lucan were.

  “Ronan, I quite enjoyed your wonderful work on These Streets of Dublin. Absolutely wonderful. I hope we can entice you to come and work on an Avalon production one day.”

  Chuckling, he replied, “Well, sir, if the right script, director, and opportunity come along, I’d be more than happy to.”

  “Join me for a drink at the bar, and please, call me Perry.”

  Nodding, Ronan accepted my stepfather’s invitation. After kissing me on the cheek, he asked, “How about a drink?”

  “Yes. Champagne, please.”

  Then Ronan and Perry crossed in front of the stage before I turned towards my mother.

  Stepping forward, she offered a beaming smile. “You’re quite taken with him, as I can see he is with you.”

  The heat stretched across my cheeks as I smiled, “Mom, I can’t believe how happy I am. It’s insane how much my life has changed in such a short time.”

  “Love is a wonderful feeling, and it looks very good on you, darling.”

  “I never told you it was love.”

  “You didn’t have to. It’s written all over your face,” she replied, cupping my chin in her well-manicured hand.

  She stepped away to call Charlotte, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I studied Ronan as he talked to Perry and a few other industry suits near the bar. He stood tall, smiling with genuine confidence. Women passed by, craning their necks in uncomfortable ways to get a long look at him. But he ignored them, and his gaze met mine. The intensity in his heated stare spoke volumes.

  No matter how many women crossed his path, he only saw me.

  Holliday

  After dinner, I excused myself to the ladies’ room. Charlotte joined me. Lucan and she had been late because their nanny had had a family emergency and needed to leave town, which had left them scrambling to get a babysitter at the last minute.

  We sat beside each other at the vanity table to touch up our makeup. Something was off with Charlotte. Maybe she was upset about being late. She loathed being late. And with Fashion Week quickly approaching, I wondered if she was consumed with stress about work.

  “This night cannot end soon enough,” I mumbled under my breath, glancing at Charlotte in the mirror.

  She nodded in agreement. Now, I knew something was definitely bothering her. She loved a good party, gala, or fundraiser. Charlotte didn’t seem tired or sick. And my sister always had something to say. But tonight, she’d barely spoken, engaging only in light small talk.

  “You seem awfully quiet. Is everything okay?”

  She looked around the bathroom before giving me “the eye.” I understood her silent communication, replying with a nod.

  “I saw something in the paper today. On Page Six, to be exact,” she whispered.

  My heart dropped. Something horrible must have been printed about her, Lucan, or maybe Ronan. I needed to remember to update my Google alerts.

  I waited for the last woman to leave the bathroom before inquiring. “Do I even want to know?”

  “Don’t freak out.”

  “When someone says that, you must know they most certainly will freak out,” I bit out in a hushed voice as tension rose in my shoulders. My mind spun in a thousand directions as I thought about what bombshell she was going to drop on me.

  “Okay, take a deep breath,” she said softly. “There was an article that said Derek Saunders was spotted looking at both commercial and residential space here in Manhattan.”

  “Oh my God,” I breathed, horrified at the thought of Derek potentially living there. “Were there pictures to prove this claim?”

  “Yes, there was a picture of him with two men in dark suits outside the Warwick Hotel and Residences on 53rd.”

  As I pushed away from the vanity, two women entered the powder room. Charlotte started to speak again, but I shook my head, giving her the eye. She connected with my silence the moment she heard one of the women laughing.

  “Let’s go back to the table.”

  “I’ll be there in a few. I need a moment to think.”

  Giving my arm a tight squeeze, she flashed me an easy smile. Slowly turning towards the long mirror, I smoothed my palms across the bodice of my gown. I started at my reflection for a few moments, wondering if Derek would be able to recognize me on a crowded Manhattan street.

  Maybe I shouldn’t have cared so much. I did have a bodyguard now, thanks to Ronan. What was the worst Derek could do?

  Fuck it. I’d made a promise to take back my life. Fine, let him see me. He couldn’t do anything to me. Ronan would protect me.

  Rounding the corner from the bathroom, I placed my lip gloss back in my clutch. Then I stopped for a moment to study one of the paintings that captured my attention in the hallway. The message etched on the plaque made me smile.

  “Silent Strings” – A gift from Margaret “Maggie” Mills

  The painting was of a woman sitting behind a cello in a gorgeous, blue, ruffled ball gown. Holding the bow, her arms were draped over the top of her instrument, and her forehead was resting on the peg box. Brown curls cascaded around her shoulders, covering her face. I wondered if she had just finished playing a classic piece and was hiding her face because she was crying from the effect the music had on her. Perhaps she was crying over the disappointment of her performance.

  I knew very little about anything that involved a paintbrush. What I did know was that Maggie was a major Contributor to the Arts, and she loved to draw in her spare time. As did I. Well, I liked to sketch and take photos. However I was far less talented than Maggie and even less than Charlotte, who sketched nearly every single one of her stylish designs.

  “What do you think she’s thinking?” someone said in a gravelly deep voice.

  Shifting my gaze to the side, I saw Grady James standing in a deep-charcoal-colored three-piece suit. Of course it’s him.

  “Grady,” I huffed. “Why am I not surprised to see you?”

  “Well, hello to you too, Holliday.” He inched closer to where I was standing.

  “That’s far enough,” I replied, taking a step back.

  He frowned, and the confusion on his face was laughable to me. His jaw and his lip seemed to have healed nicely, not a traceable scar or flaw on his picture-perfect face.

  “Holliday, come on. Don’t be like that.”

  “I shouldn’t even be seen with you,” I snapped. “Lately, it seems that, every time I am around you, chaos swirls around me.”

  His shoulders rolled forward. “Yes, and that is my fault.”

  The shock on my face was clearly evident, because Grady laughed.

  “What? Don’t look at me that way. I can admit when I’m wrong.”

  “Can you?�
�� I asked sarcastically. “I didn’t think you remembered how.”

  “I remember a kiss, which is what caused this tension between us.”

  “Was there a kiss? I barely remember it.” I rolled my eyes.

  “Recently, yes. There were a few.” He smiled. “All of them were very nice, but inappropriate.”

  “Inappropriate is correct, and as long as we’re being honest, I shouldn’t have been such a willing participant at any time.”

  He leaned his shoulder against the wall, his blue eyes twinkling. “Glad we agree on that.” He winked. “As far as the kiss goes, you’re always going to have a piece of my heart.”

  “Grady,” I breathed softly. “More inappropriateness.”

  “No, this is not my intention, I swear. Just an apology.” He moved from the wall to stand in front of me. “Look, you fascinate me,” he began, running his hand over the curve of his jaw. “You always have, but I think you know that. For so many reasons, you represent the ideal woman for me. You’re brave, incredibly strong, smart, and wildly sexy.”

  “Grady, you—”

  He held up his hands in surrender. “I promise I’m not trying to be a dick.”

  My foot tapped against the marble floor, in an unhurried speed.

  “Will you hear me out?”

  “Fine.”

  “Watching you overcome all of that pain and fear—well, let’s just say you inspired me every single day. We shared something special, and I tried to recapture that, but I couldn’t because it’s not what you wanted. I am not who you want.”

  His words were both beautiful and sincere. Grady James was a man hard to forget, and he was one of the sexiest men I’d ever met. Beneath that playboy charm and mischievous grin, there was a true gentleman. He was more like Ronan than he would ever care to admit, I was sure. And that probably explained why he rivaled him or they rivaled each other. Both confident men radiated sex appeal, but only one man had all of me—mind, body, heart, and soul.

  “And it didn’t hurt that I could stick it to Connolly for once.”

  I laughed. “You almost had me convinced of your sincerity.” Pivoting on my heel, I walked away.