Perfectly Scripted Page 9

  Before I could take two steps, though, Grady gently grabbed my arm, pulling me back.

  “Wait,” he groaned. “I’m only kidding. Don’t go.”

  “What do you want me to say? Were you only pursuing me to piss off Ronan? If that is true, it was a total dick move.”

  He chuckled. “Sorry. That was a shitty thing to say, but no, that was not my reason. That night I saw you at the gala, it reminded me of a time in my life when I was in a good place. Everything was good: my life, my career, and having you.”

  “This is all very nice, but, I’m confused, because you broke up with me, remember? And if things were so good, why would you ever want them to end?”

  Placing his hands on my arms, he said, “Have you ever truly had too much of a good thing? That is how I felt about you all the time. ‘She is too good.’ ‘This is too good to be true.’”

  A hundred thoughts flickered inside as I absorbed his admission. My mind carried me back to the night Grady had asked me to spend the night with him. We’d only been seeing each other about a month or so and hadn’t yet slept together. At that point, our relationship had been holding steady at second base. It had helped that my therapy had been going well, and I’d loved spending time with Grady. He was the first man I had been interested in having an intimate relationship with since the rape. The first man I’d thought about having sex with. A man I’d wanted to have sex with.

  It had started innocently enough: coffee in the afternoon, happy hour cocktails after work, Sunday morning jogs through Central Park. But then one dinner had turned into two, and before I’d known it, I had been attending charity polo matches and red carpet events with him in a matter of weeks.

  The warm night air danced across my skin as Grady led me out to his car, his firm touch pressed against the small of my back. Opening the passenger’s side door, he caught me by the shoulder. His fingers tugged at my chin.

  “I don’t want this night to end. Stay with me,” he said softly, his blue eyes pleading with me to say yes.

  Sleep was my current nemesis. Mentally, I kept reminding myself over and over how dangerous it could be to stay all night with him. Anxiety attacks from flashbacks were happening less frequently, but nightmares were once a week if I was lucky. I was scared out of my mind that he would witness one of my breakdowns. It would send him running for the hills thinking I was batshit crazy. My medication was just starting to help me manage my triggers. I felt ready to reclaim my sex life and stop feeling like a complete basket case.

  As he pressed his tall frame against my body, I blinked up to see those impossibly beautiful baby blues searching my face. The solid length of his cock ground into my thigh. Before I could open my mouth to reply, though, his soft lips were on mine, and he was stroking my tongue with his. I moaned into his kisses, tugging at his hair, pulling him closer to me.

  “Grady…” I breathed.

  His hands came up to hold my face. “So, can I take that as a yes?” A devilish smirk tugged the corners of his mouth.

  “Hmmm…” I mumbled, slightly drunk from the kiss.

  “Holliday, let me have you. All of you.” He whispered the last three words.

  My knees went weak at the warmth of his breath fanning across the shell of my ear and the beautiful request of his words. Then he lowered his mouth and sucked on my earlobe. A familiar hum of electricity wound its way through every inch of my body.

  “I want you in my bed. In my mind, I’ve tasted you a thousand times, but now, I want the real thing.”

  He pressed his lips against my neck, kissing his way down to my shoulder. His fingers caressed up and down my back. I was more than ready to commit public acts of indecency in order to cure the deep ache inside me, and it felt wonderful.

  “Okay…I think I’d really like that,” I said breathlessly.

  “Good answer.”

  Sometime after midnight in a panic, Grady pulled me from his bed. I had begun kicking the sheets, crying hysterically, and incoherently babbling on about Derek.

  “Holliday, shhh…Baby, you’re okay.”

  Everything was sort of hazy, and I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience. The sound of running water filled my ears. I hadn’t realized I had been holding my breath until a rush of hot water hit my skin.

  “There is no one here named Derek. Just me, Grady.”

  I mumbled, “Grady?” Then I blinked up to find him cradling me in his arms on the tile floor of his large walk-in shower.

  More calming words poured from his lips while he gently rocked me, stroking my hair back. The warm spray washed over us like a gentle spring rain. The tension left my body, and I curled into him, repeatedly apologizing for my ramblings.

  “There’s no need to apologize. It will all be okay. I’m here and you’re safe.”

  After that little episode, I hadn’t been able to open up to him about my attack. Shortly thereafter, Grady had come to a therapy session, and I’d told him what had happened to me. As suspected, he’d admitted that he’d thought I might have been sexually assaulted. I’d learned that his sister had been raped at a college party by her boyfriend’s roommate. That was how Grady had known how to respond to my nightmare by taking me into the shower.

  “Did you hear me, Holliday?”

  Swallowing the lump in my throat, I nodded. “Did you think you didn’t deserve something good, or was it that you were afraid of how good you felt?”

  He opened his mouth to speak, but I interrupted him.

  “We probably shouldn’t even go down this road.” I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer.

  A wide, bright smile crossed his face. “Holliday, you seem extremely happy. I wanted to tell you that I am sorry. Furthermore, I’m not going to take that away from you or cheapen it with selfish tactics.”

  “I appreciate that, Grady. I am happy. For the record, having you in my life during that time…” My hand covered his giving it a light squeeze. “I’m glad I had you. Thank you.”

  “Me too, and you never have to thank me.” He smiled shyly, and a faint tinge of red splashed across his neck and his cheeks. “Speaking of being happy, Heather is pretty amazing. I’m going to give us a shot.”

  “What? Are you saying you might date her?” I teased. “What will the world do with Grady James officially off the market?”

  “With any luck, it’ll keep spinning.”

  I laughed. “Let’s hope.”

  People began to spill out into the hallway. Over his shoulder, I saw Heather standing near the ballroom entrance. He followed my gaze then grinned at me, his eyes wide. Smiling inwardly, I hoped he wasn’t in too much trouble, although he might have deserved some scolding from Heather.

  “It was good to see you, Holliday. Take care,” he said with certain finality.

  “You too, Grady.”

  I watched until he disappeared into the crowd.

  Ronan

  My day could not end fast enough. It was brutally cold, and I was less than thrilled to be shooting my scenes outside. Even though I’d had hand warmers providing warmth between takes, my fingers still stung with tremendous pain. Whose brilliant idea was it to film outside in February? All I wanted to do was wrap up the day and get home to Holliday.

  My perfect night would be to curl up under a blanket with her and drink a bottle of red wine in front of a roaring fire. Well, if I was being totally honest, my perfect night would be having sex with her in front of a roaring fire.

  After what felt like twenty takes of me snapping pictures of Heather eating a bagel, drinking coffee, and having a chat with friend in the park, the director, Sam, yelled, “Cut!” Relieved that it was over, I checked my phone for messages. A reminder appeared: Training session with Gram 5:00 P.M.

  I wanted to take up boxing for many reasons, mostly personal. Dean had put me in contact with his trainer, and tonight was my first workout. With a little over an hour before my appointment, instead of going home, I decided to shower and take a nap in my trailer. G
lad to be out of the cold, I quickly made a cup of tea and flipped the television on. Before I was able to take a drink, someone knocked at my door—probably Desi with tomorrow’s call sheet. Tomorrow was the last day of filming before the break. In two days, I would be leaving for a three-week press tour for A London Love Story.

  “Come on in.”

  Not Desi, but Heather appeared the doorway. Fuck!

  “Hi,” she said softly. “Do you have a moment to talk?”

  Since my conversation with Holliday about Heather and her possibly misreading my signals, I had managed to keep her at a distance. While on set, we hadn’t shared coffee in the mornings, tea in the afternoon, and absolutely no lunches at the same table or restaurant. I’d kept to light small talk and professional discussions.

  “Not really. I have an appointment I need to keep, and I’ll be leaving shortly.”

  “Please? I just need a few moments of your time.”

  I rolled my eyes, and reluctantly agreed to the conversation, knowing she wouldn’t stop asking until she got her way.

  “Fine,” I said, turning the television off. “What can I do for you?”

  “Well, I was wondering if you had time to go over the date dream sequence with me, and I think we should discuss the sex scene.”

  Blowing out a breath annoyed, I scrubbed my hands down my face. “Heather, I don’t have time for this. Besides, we aren’t even shooting those scenes until the final week of production.”

  “Oh, come on now, Roco,” she said in a cloyingly sweet voice.

  Roco had been her pet name for me when we had been together. I fucking hated it. She said that it was her clever way of putting my first and last name together. She was clearly a genius.

  “We’ve done this before, Roco, on camera and off. Surely you can make time for a quick discussion.”

  “Would you please not call me that?”

  Frowning, she huffed out, “Fine, but only if you agree to talk to me about the first sex scene.”

  I nodded and motioned for her to take a seat on the couch. The sooner I got this discussion over with, the sooner she could leave. I turned around to refill my tea, asking her if she’d like a cup, to which she replied no. When I turned back around, she was sprawled out on the couch, naked, and on her back.

  “Jesus, Heather. What the fuck?” I groaned, whipping around the room, hoping to Christ that all the blinds were closed.

  When she propped herself up on her elbow, her hair fell over her breasts. I scrambled to pick up her dress and coat and threw them at her. Then she shot me a petulant look.

  “Heather, get dressed right now. I’m being absolutely serious.”

  Ignoring my request, she rolled onto her stomach. “We’ve had a lot of good times together. Are you sure you don’t have time to play?” she asked, giving me a lazy grin.

  “Yes, I’m sure, and we haven’t had playtime in a very long time. Now, get your ass up, put on your fucking clothes, and kindly leave,” I said firmly, gesturing towards the door.

  “You used to like me naked,” she said as she stared at me.

  “Heather, those days are long gone. You and I have a working relationship. I am in love with someone else, and last I heard, you were in a relationship.”

  “I don’t accept this,” she whined. “How can you want to be with that ordinary girl? My heart aches every time I see the two of you together.”

  “Stop it right there. I assure you that you do not want to have this conversation with me.” I eyed her suspiciously. “Don’t you get tired of playing the drama queen? The damsel in distress? The victim?”

  “I’m not playing!” Balling her fists, she yelled in protest. “Ronan, I love you!” Her eyes began to water. “Don’t you remember how good we were together?”

  “I’m not going down memory lane with you. If you’re looking to rekindle a romance that never truly existed, I suggest you stop. We had some nice times, but you know that a majority of those were maneuvered publicity stunts. That’s all it was between us—business. Only business and nothing more. Furthermore, sex is sex. It does not equal love. We were two consenting adults.”

  She clutched her stomach and began to sob. “How—how can you forget about our baby?”

  My mouth gaped. She would say anything to remind me of the past.

  I handed her a tissue along with her bra. Bringing up the memory of a dead child was about the coldest thing she could have done to provoke me.

  “Thank you Ronan, I knew you still cared,” she said through her sniffling.

  I stepped closer to her. “I will never forget the child we lost. I grieved for that loss. But, Heather, if you are still having trouble dealing with that pain, you seriously need to get some help.”

  She slipped her dress over her head and grabbed her coat. “I don’t need help. I’m fine,” she said firmly.

  “Okay. What, then? Are you having a diva tantrum? Is Grady not giving you enough attention?”

  She sent me an icy glare. “I’m not a diva. For your information, Grady and I are rock solid. He gives me plenty of attention—in and out of the bedroom,” she said, laying it on thick.

  “Then why did you come here declaring your alleged love for me—in the nude, no less—if that were true. Your games won’t work with me.”

  “No games. I do love you.”

  That’s it. Time to go. Most of the time, I could handle my emotions pretty well, but she was crossing a serious line. My tolerance had run out.

  “Don’t forget these,” I replied sharply, picking her panties up and shoving them in her jacket pocket. Then I gripped her by the elbow and led her to the door.

  “Hey, stop. Stop shoving me,” she whined. “I just…I wanted to talk to you about the sex scene. I’m sorry about the theatrics.” She wiggled out of my grip to straighten the sleeves of her dress.

  Part of me wondered if she was using again. If I should try to get her to a meeting.

  No. Fuck no. Holliday’s words came back to me, reminding me that I could not give Heather the wrong impression. Besides, her problems were not for me to worry about. She had Grady to help her.

  “Listen, Heather, I have to be going or I’ll be late for my appointment.”

  “Fine. Fuck you, Ronan,” she spat. “Go. Fucking leave, then.” She stomped out of my trailer like a child, elbowing Desi out of the way in the process.

  “What’s with her?” he snorted.

  “She’s apparently having a bad day.”

  Normally, Heather’s bullshit wouldn’t have had any effect on me, but that altercation gave me a surge of energy. I was more than fired up to work out now.

  “You did awesome man,” Gram said, handing me a water bottle.

  Gram Lucero was ex-military and an expert in both boxing and kickboxing. He stood an inch shorter than me, his dark hair was shaved short, and tattoos covered his arms like sleeves. This guy was a legit badass by appearance alone. In the ring, I’d watched him and another trainer go a few rounds. He was quick and light on his feet, and he packed a powerful punch. I knew I would learn a lot from his training.

  I wiped the sweat off my face with a towel. “Thanks.”

  My muscles trembled slightly—a satisfying feeling. Gram hadn’t taken it that easy on me during my first lesson. He’d told me that I had natural grace and great footwork. Footwork wasn’t my concern though. Landing a jaw-busting right hook was.

  I wanted to learn more. My need to seek justice for Holliday was driving me to learn more. Tonight, however, was all about the basics, and he didn’t want me to over exert myself. Fuck that. I had so much adrenaline coursing through me from just thinking about ripping Derek Saunders to shreds.

  “Let’s set you up for another session soon.”

  “I’m going out of town for three weeks. Press tour.”

  “Well,” he replied, scratching the back of his head. “Call me when you’re back in the city.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  “Great.” He grinn
ed and extended his hand. His grip was solid and confident.

  “Looking forward to it, and again, nice work tonight.”

  I decided to cap my workout off with a few miles on the treadmill. At home, I planned to burn more energy with Holliday. Now, did I tell her about my run-in with Heather before or after sex? Decisions. Decisions.

  Holliday

  Charlotte and I scrambled all morning to get ready for the final casting call that afternoon. The show was in a matter of days. There was nothing quite like New York City during Fashion Week. It was electric, burning white hot with the extraordinary energy, artistry, glitz, and glamour. We decided to pull out all the stops for our first event to make a splash. We had a huge presence on social media, and with the buzz about Charlotte’s new accessory line, things couldn’t have been going any better.

  Jesse, our casting director, and Maya, Charlotte’s assistant, joined us for the auditions. Two groups remained. Thirty models were needed to walk in our ten-minute presentation. This was one of the more crucial tasks, but my sister loved every second of it. I thought she felt a rush of nostalgia for her own days spent going to castings and auditions. I didn’t know how she’d handled the rejection, the pressure, and the low-calorie diet of a fashion model. I loved food too much to even bother with the business.

  The competition pool was incredible. Throughout this whole process, we’d been blown away more times that we could count. We’d done fashion show and campaign auditions before, but nothing compared to this. It was fascinating.

  We were looking for unique and rare, but the groups were filled with an abundance of bright personalities, ladies with luminous skin and a well-proportioned build. Their bodies were all in top form, which made it hard to choose. Luckily, Charlotte and I agreed more than we disagreed on models, so it was easy to spot the young women who were too perfect for Charlotte’s designs.

  Finally, around three in the afternoon, we’d seen all the models. And in record time, no less. I was exhausted, but Charlotte had more energy than she’d had at the beginning of the casting.