Perfectly Scripted (7 page)

Holliday

We landed at LAX shortly after nine a.m., and it was a media circus. Flash bulbs popped off all around us as we made our way through the airport terminal. Ronan pulled me close to him, whispering, “I’m going to kill the motherfucker who leaked our flight itinerary to the stalkerazzi.”

“Just be your charming polite self, and they won’t be so aggressive.”

“This lot of photogs are the wanker slime balls, the ones who camp out hoping to snag photos of celebrities. They make their living off selling celebrity pictures. They’re the lowest of the media food chain, and they are
always
aggressive.”

With a tight hold on my hand, he calmly asked the paparazzi to give us some room. For the most part, they granted his request. Waves of anxiety crawled up my throat, but I swallowed them down and kept my focus on Ronan’s lead.

“
Ronan, how long will you be in Los Angeles?”

“
Any truth that you and Heather Young have a sex tape?”

“
Are you ready for the release of ‘A London Love Story’?”

“
Is it true that your ex-wife is marrying Dax Martin next weekend?”

“
Are the rumors that you knocked up your new girlfriend true?”

Jesus!
My mind swirled with heaviness.
How did they come up with these ridiculous questions? Knots tugged at my stomach.

Finally, we arrived at the baggage terminal and were immediately greeted by two security guards. Definitely two guys I wouldn’t want anyone to tangle with in a fight.

“Hey, guys. Good to see you,” Ronan said, shaking their hands. “I have a driver meeting us outside in about ten minutes. Can we get some help?”

“Good to see you, Mr. Connolly. We’ll make sure you and Miss Prescott get to your vehicle safely.”

Some members of the paparazzi pack trickled off. I overheard one of them say that reality star Melanie Owens had arrived in terminal seven and was at the Coffee Bean. Good for her. She needed more press—positive press.

Ronan’s hand landed on the small of my back, and he ushered me to follow the gentleman with our baggage cart.

One of the paparazzi shouted, “Holliday! Is it true that your stepdad is Perry Chambers of Avalon Films?”

Fuck!
Now, the personal whirlwind had ascended upon me. My skin prickled like hundreds of tiny needles were stabbing at my skin. But I kept walking, never missing a beat. My heart thrummed against my chest, yet my expression was cleverly covered by my sunglasses.

When the glass doors opened, the breeze hit my face, along with the familiar scent of Los Angeles smog. It was glorious.

Hello, California. I have missed you.

Ronan had our driver take us to his new place first before heading to Emma’s. He made me promise to accompany him there when my schedule allowed. The view from the high-rise penthouse was gorgeous, but the home itself was absolutely incredible. Located in Laurel Canyon, the tri-level house reflected his style with both contemporary and modern touches. It was furnished already, too. Some of the furniture still had plastic wrap and price tags on it. Mostly made up of a grey-black-and-white color palette mixed with stone accents and hardwood floors, the space was warm and bright with the floor-to-ceiling windows creating walls of glass that overlooked the city and the ocean.

“Wow, this place is sensational.
This
view.” I took a deep breath. “When I think of rental properties,
this
does not come to mind.”

Ronan lifted an eyebrow in my direction, and his mouth curved into a sly smile. “Yes, about that,” he smirked. “I bought this place.”

As confusion spread across my face, he explained that the house was a better investment with a prime location. Plus, he didn’t want to throw his money away by renting. I couldn’t argue with his logic.

“How much is this place, and are you sure you can afford it?”

Once I’d said the words, I realized I’d just asked a movie star if he could afford a lavish three-bedroom home. And by the look on his face, he thought I was kidding.

“Holliday,” he said, his deep voice booming with laughter. “I can afford it, trust me.”

As I stared at him, I wondered how much money he had. He’d only been acting for a few years. Two of his movies were independent films, which typically didn’t earn a ton of money. I didn’t know how much male fashion earned, but I was guessing he must have a made a pretty penny.

Not that I cared about the money. I’d suddenly become aware that he had it.

“What are you thinking?”

I shook my head. “I don’t want to say.”

He tucked a strand of loose hair behind my ear, smiling sweetly. “If you have something on your mind, I’d like to help if I can. No secrets,” he lectured softly.

“Okay, here goes. How much money do you have?” My question twisted inside me, and I was both embarrassed and irritated at my curiosity.

But he just smiled. “I’m rich.
Filthy rich
. Not the kind of wealth that can buy a small country or even a football team.” He paused for a moment. “Well,
maybe
I could.” He grinned, flashing a wink. “I want for nothing. My children want for nothing,” he stepped closer to me, his glimmering green eyes swept over me as he said, “And
you’ll
want for nothing.”

His lips settled on mine, as he gave me a sweet lingering kiss. I felt better, but not because I’d learned that he might had have a fortress of money stashed somewhere or possibly stacks of gold bars and jewels. I loved the comforting honesty between us.

Sure, for some people, it’s easy to say that money doesn’t matter, but when you’ve had money and you suddenly find yourself without, your world view changes. Not that I had been in control of anything my parents had done with their financial choices, but looking back, I found it easy to see how they’d fucked up.

Nothing could have prepared me, Charlotte, or even my mother for the sudden shift in our income. It had been rough for about six months. Even though Mom had landed a job as an event planner at a local hotel, her income had only paid for the essentials. We’d cut things out. Simple luxuries we hadn’t thought a thing about before were gone. No more tennis lessons for me. Charlotte gave up piano, but she got a part-time job and stuck with ballet. Our tuition had already been paid, so we were able to finish the school year after my father had died. But when September rolled around, we had to transfer to public school—on top of dealing with my dad’s death, my mother’s dating adventures, and trying to make new friends at a new school.

It was one of the worst times in my young life.

When Mom started dating Perry, our lives changed again—for the better. I loved my stepdad. He loved my mom, and he treated Charlotte and me like we were his very own daughters. In some ways, we were. Perry had no kids of his own, and Mom was the first woman he’d married.

With everything that had happened after my dad’s death, I was keenly aware of my own spending habits. I refuse to let my checking account get below a certain dollar amount. I’d been actively involved in the ins and outs of the generous trust that had been gifted to me by my stepfather. I’d invested some money and diversified a fair sum in different accounts per Lucan’s suggestions.

So yeah, I worried about money because you never know what can happen.

“What’s troubling you?” Ronan asked.

I hesitated for a moment, but his smile was warm and his green eyes bathed me in adoration. “It’s just another one of my demons. I…I worry about money,” I admitted.

“I see,” he replied quietly.

“I’m sorry.” I dropped my gaze to the floor, knotting my fingers together. “I know your spending habits are none of my business.”

He lifted my chin so that I was looking at him again. “I think it’s very wise for a person to think about the status of their financials. I assume this has something to do with your father’s blunders?”

I nodded, and he led me to the couch.

“I think it’s also very sweet that you felt compelled to worry about my spending. Would it make you feel better to know more about my financial portfolio?”

I laughed because it all sounded so businesslike for two people who were romantically involved to be discussing financial matters although it was a normal thing. It was twisting me up inside that my own hang-ups are the cause of this awkwardness.

“There’s no need to worry, honestly. When I started modeling, my father began teaching me about investing, stocks, and financial planning. I’ve been building my wealth and saving for many years. Does that make you feel more at ease?”

I nodded, because it
has
put me at ease, but I still felt awkward about what I was about to disclose to him. I suspected he had no idea about the state of my affairs.

“I have money, too. Lots of it, actually.” I pushed to my feet. “I have a sizable trust in addition to earning the obscene salary Charlotte overpays me. Lucan has an account set up for me as well, and each month, he deposits an allowance. I tried to protest, but I’m pretty sure, even though she’d in no way admit it, it was Charlotte’s idea.”

“I think it’s quite nice that your family cares about you enough to make sure you are taken care of and help you with your financial well-being. I am confident Charlotte has thoughtful reasons for her actions.”

All of this reminded me of my encounter with Amelia and how she’d blackmailed me, which I had yet to tell Ronan about.
Shit!
No time like the present. I hoped he had some whiskey there. We were going to need it.

“Speaking of family and money, I have something I need to share with you.”

He quirked at eyebrow at me. “Should I be sitting for this?”

“No,” I quickly replied.

He shot me a questioning look.

“Well, you can if you like,” I said with a laugh. “Okay, so…A few weeks ago. The night you picked me up from work and we went to The Addison together.” Then I launched into the story.

He reacted the way I’d expected him to, in the most Ronan way. “You should have punched her in the cunt anyway, just for being a cunt.”

I laughed. “The thought crossed my mind. Trust me.”

“Come, my beauty,” he said, motioning towards the stairs. “I want to show you the master suite.” He had a salacious grin on face. “Specifically
the bed
.”

Pretending to protest, I asked, “Do we have time, Mr. Connolly?” Then I laughed as I fell forward in his arms.

“I always have time when it comes to making love to you.”

It was almost as if we were trying to make the last few hours together in our blissful bubble last before we had to return to the real world. In a few days, I’d be back in my office, while Ronan would be spending hours rehearsing lines and perfecting his American accent on set.

For a moment, my mind hurtled back, remembering a few negative comments about our relationship on Tinsel and Hollywood dot com. How would things outside the penthouse and the privacy of the resort be? Would our relationship survive the return to our normal lives?

Well, his very not-so-normal life and my fairly normal life.

Ronan ordered pizza for a late lunch. We sipped red wine and indulged in too many calories while sitting on the balcony that overlooked the Hollywood skyline.

While wiping the counters in the kitchen down, I took a final sip of my wine. The vibration of my phone on the counter made me jump. It was my mother. For the love of God, she’d seen the photos.
Fuck! Dammit!
Why hadn’t I called her sooner? I smacked my palm to my forehead.

“Hi, Mom,” I said, answering with enthusiastic sweetness.

“Holliday Olivia Prescott, don’t give me that fake-casual greeting,” she scolded. “I have to hear from a patron at my restaurant that my daughter, my own daughter, is dating one of the hottest actors in Hollywood?”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” I shot back.