Perfectly Scripted (24 page)

“Is it just drinking or do you think she was taking pills or something stronger?”

“Her behavior today,” he said, shaking his head. “It makes me think she’s taking pills as well.”

I thought about if I should really ask him what I wanted to next. But, because of what I knew about the incident in Ronan’s trailer, I had to know.

“I think Heather is still harboring some feelings for Ronan. I’m not worried that he will leave me, but I am worried that she’ll never let go of those feelings. Are you prepared to possibly be the guy she’s settling for?”

“That’s a shitty thing to say,” he said, his voice vibrating with annoyance.

“I didn’t mean any harm. I—”

“I think everyone deserves a second chance. When Heather gets out of rehab, she and I will talk. Normally, I wouldn’t give a fuck or spend this much energy on a woman. Heather is
worth it.” His glare flicked over to me. “
Our
relationship is worth it.” Once he’d approached the bar, he set the glass tumbler down and faced me once again. “Thanks for the drink, Holliday. Have a nice evening.”

An awful feeling seeped through my chest as he stalked past me, heading for hallway. The sound of the latch catching in the door alerted me that Grady was gone. After pacing around the room, I decided to wrap things up downstairs and put this odd day, along with myself, to bed.

Ronan

Beads of sweat ran down my face as I pushed myself that last mile of six on the treadmill. The Maddox Hotel in London had one of the best fitness centers, private and secure. The other guests didn’t give a fuck that a movie star was working out in the same space. I could have had the staff close it down for the hour I was working out, but I hated being an entitled asshole.

On the subject of assholes, Derek Saunders had finally signed the paperwork agreeing to buy the building I owned. I was relieved that he’d taken the bait. We’d officially close the real estate deal soon enough. Now, the rest of my plan needed to come together, not quickly but rather precisely.

My lungs burned and my quads ached. I felt like I was training for an Olympic marathon. It was no wonder, because I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Holliday. I missed her like crazy, and it had only been close to two weeks since I’d left. Working out was a great way to relieve my sexual anxiety. However, it wasn’t a cure-all by any means. I’d been wanking off more in the last week than I could ever remember doing in my lifetime. Between running and wanking, I felt like a horny fucking teenager all over again.

It didn’t help matters that Lana’s boyfriend, Matt, had been able to be at nearly every stop on the European tour thus far. Seeing the shit-eating grin on his face every morning at breakfast, knowing those two were shagging like rabbits, only brought the reality of my own separation from Holliday even more into focus.

I still sound like a sappy, lovesick fool.

Since Holliday couldn’t be there with me and I couldn’t jerk-off twenty-four seven, I’d continue to punish my body with intense and brutal workouts.

Needing to cool down, I slowed my pace to a light jog. Then I pulled my earbuds out and directed my attention to the television broadcasting the morning news. The entertainment buzz came on, and they highlighted a story about Skylar Barrett’s new movie, which looked like it was going to be a box office hit. The next piece caught my attention.

INSIDE HEATHER YOUNG’S TROUBLED LIFE.

Jesus Christ.

In our last phone conversation, Holliday had told me that Heather had been admitted to rehab and about the confrontation hours before the fashion show. From the sounds of this report, the press had somehow found out she was back in rehab. My guess was that Heather had had her public relations team leak the story. She’s very good at playing the “Hollywood Game.” Hopefully she’d take the treatment seriously this time around.

My thoughts were interrupted as the door to the yoga studio opened and a mass of women carrying water bottles and their mats rushed out. Loud whispers drowned out the sound of the quiet workout facility as they all passed by me. Smiling, I nodded to the women, who slowed their stride and craned their necks to gawk at me. Then I hopped off the treadmill and grabbed a towel, wiping the sweat from my face.

“Excuse me, but aren’t you Ronan Connolly?” I heard someone say from behind me.

Turning, I came face-to-face with my little sister, Ella, who’d disguised her voice perfectly American. She wasn’t dressed for a workout, but rather a night on the town, wearing a black leather jacket over a snakeskin-printed dress that was a little too short in my opinion.

“Ella! What are you doing here?” I went to hug her, but she pushed me away.

“Ick, you’re all sweaty, and you smell a tad unpleasant.” She wrinkled up her nose.

“That’s what a man smells like, lassie,” I replied, pretending to swat her with my towel.

“Ronan!” she wailed, dodging me expertly each time the towel came close to her body.

I dropped the towel in the laundry bin and swung my arm over her shoulder. This time, she didn’t move away. We walked in stride towards the mats so I could stretch my legs.

“It’s good to see you, big brother.”

“You as well. This is quite a wonderful surprise. How did you know I was here?”

Her smile grew wide as she toyed with a strand of her long hair. “I rang Darcy and she told me.”

“I see,” I said as I leaned to stretch my quads.

Ella rocked back on her black heels and bounced up and down on her toes. By the way she was constantly fidgeting, I could tell that she was itching to ask me something.

“What’s on your mind, Lolly?” I asked.

Lolly was a nickname I’d given her years ago. When Ella was about eight, she’d only wanted to eat lolly ice. For an entire summer every time Mom would ask her what she wanted to eat, Ella had the same response, “Lolly ice.” Her Popsicle phase eventually melted away, but the nickname stuck.

She leaned closer to me, whispering, “Are you really dating Charlotte Ricchetti’s sister?”

I huffed out a short laugh. “Yes, I really am. Her name is Holliday, by the way.” Bringing my arm over my head, I quirked an eyebrow, “Why do you ask?”

“Charlotte is one of my favorite designers, and I was wondering, if I came to visit you in New York, do you think you could introduce us?”

“Is this your way of telling me you’re coming to New York?”

She nodded. “I was thinking of popping over this spring or summer. I may be opening a boutique in Manhattan or The Hamptons. Dad and I have been looking at commercial properties.”

I continued stretching my arms and my legs as I listened to Ella go on about her vision for her store across the pond. My baby sister sounded completely grown-up. Her boutique in London was thriving, and she was garnering tons of positive press. Quite the opposite of her former tabloid exploits.

Pushing off the wall, I smiled. “Absolutely. We can arrange that. I’m very proud of you, Ella.”

Her blue eyes danced with excitement. “Thank you, Ronan.”

After we’d exited the fitness center, Dean met up with us in the reception area, where all three of us grabbed a bottle of coconut water.

Shit!
If Ella is coming to visit with this whole Derek Saunders issue looming, she’ll need protection.

I couldn’t risk her roaming around without someone looking out for her. She would not like it, but I’d tell her that it was for her own good. I made a mental note and decided to inform her right before she visited about the security detail.

“Do you have time for lunch?” Ella asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Swiping to the reminders on my phone, I realized I had a busy day. “Apologies, sis. I have to be at BBC One in two hours for an interview. Then I leave directly from there for a taping of
The Graham Norton Show
.”

She frowned and pulled at her bottom lip. “What about dinner tonight?”

“I have to be up early for a photo call, but that should work. I’ll call you when I’m done.” I leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. “We’ll definitely see each other at the premiere tomorrow night.”

“Yes, but you better call me, big brother.”

When we arrived at the concierge desk, I asked them to bring Ella’s car around. Onlookers began to stop, snapping pictures of Ella and me. Dean kept the crowd from creeping too closely while the two of us carried on our conversation as if they weren’t there.

“I promise to ring you. How could I say no to my Lolly?” I teased.

Her jaw dropped, and the blush crept across her cheeks. I’d embarrassed her by calling her Lolly in the company of other people. She punched me in the arm.

Yeah, I probably deserved that.

“Sorry, Ella, and nice fucking jab,” I said, rubbing my bicep as I walked her to the door. “That hurt.”

“Don’t be such a pussy,” she replied and punched me in the same fucking spot.

I glanced around the lobby, hoping that no paparazzi were still around to witness my little sister attempting to kick my ass. “Jesus Christ, Ella!” I roared.

With a smirk she shrugged and took the keys from the valet. “Serves you right.” Looking over her shoulder, she called out, “Wanker.”

Laughing, I thought maybe my sister wouldn’t need a bodyguard after all.

Holliday

When the New York premiere for
A London Love Story
rolled around, I’d planned to surprise Ronan by meeting him in the VIP lounge before the screening of his movie. But after all the planning and all the drama that had gone into the discussion of us walking the red carpet together, it didn’t even matter because I came down with the flu the day before.

“Hey, gorgeous. I got your message that you were feeling ill.”

I smiled at the sound of Ronan’s husky voice drifting through the phone. Before I could answer him, I started coughing and my eyes watered with tears.

“I don’t feel gorgeous right now,” I groaned.

“You sound dreadful. I’m going to stop home before my flight to Los Angeles. Better yet, I’ll skip the rest of the presser to take care of you.”

“You will do no such thing,” I managed as I sat up in bed. I reached for the glass of water beside the bed and chugged it. “I’m ordering you to stay away. If you caught the flu and were unable to finish the tour, I’d never forgive myself.”

“Are you absolutely sure there is nothing I can do?”

My insides began to churn. I’d thrown up so much my throat was raw. Surely there couldn’t be anything left to heave.

“I love you, thank you. Tinley is stopping by in an hour to check on me. How was the premiere?”

“Things went well, and the reviews have been complimentary for the most part. I’ll tell you all about it when I’m home and you’re feeling better. You get some rest, I love you.”

I ended the call with Ronan and sprinted to the bathroom, thankful I made it in time. My hands shook as I wiped my face with a hand towel. I stripped out of my clothes, and gingerly stepped into the shower, my body aching with fever.

Days later, as Ronan finished up his time in L.A., I had recovered enough to make it to my appointment with Dr. Elias Ginsburg, known to many as the world’s foremost authority in laser skin treatments. I had a few more sessions before all four of my scars would be erased from my body. I had wanted to have this done before he returned from the press tour, but the flu made other plans for me. The minor swelling and redness as a result of the treatments went away almost instantly, but so far, things were going well and it wasn’t as painful as I’d originally thought.