Unscripted (The Scripted Series #1) 

By Christy Pastore 

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Currently Reading: Pastore, Christy - Unscripted

About the Book
“His gaze on me was intense, I couldn’t look away. I felt as if I was revealing my entire soul to him in this
moment.” 
 
The range of emotions I had experienced with Ronan felt like a topsy-turvy spinning roller coaster.
Suddenly I 
was awake for the first time in what felt like years. Every fiber of my being was filled with heated desire,
passion, 
lust and fear, and all I wanted was more… more of everything, more of him. How had I just lived these
past few 
years only going through the motions? But, as glorious as all of this was, was I kidding myself? Could it
be real? 
Or just a moment in time - a few days of thrilling and scary excitement rolled into one? The moment
before you 
hit that first big drop on your favorite coaster, you fall, and then it's over. 
 
This isn’t your typical Hollywood fairy tale where the typecast ordinary girl next door meets the famous 
handsome actor and they fall in love. Despite the emotional and physical scars that serve as reminders
of 
Holliday Prescott’s past, she has evolved into a strong young woman. Ronan Connolly has loved and lost,
but 
he’s never been in love. The weight of Hollywood’s expectations and the scripted games people play
have left 
him bruised but not broken. 
 
He's always followed everyone else's script and she wrote her own. That was until fate swept in with
other plans. 
 
Chapter One
 
“Will there be anything else for you Miss Prescott?” 
“No thank you, Eli, and for the hundredth time call me Holliday, please.” 
“Yes, Holliday, a fitting name for the most beautiful woman in all of Manhattan. I’d celebrate you every
day 
if you were my lady,” he said sweetly. 
“You really have a way with words, Eli,” I said, handing back the credit card tray. 
Leaning closer to me he whispered, “If you like my words you should see what I can do with my
tongue.” 
Eli pulled back and shoved a hand through his dark hair sweeping it back out of his brown eyes. 
I shook my head as a smile crossed my lips, “I bet you say that to all the girls.” 
“Things are picking up. I need to get back to the bar,” he said pointing towards the revolving glass
doors. 
I turned my gaze back towards the window and watched as the busy streets bustled with holiday
shoppers 
scurrying to finish their lists before the impending snowstorm approached. With arms full of bags and
pack- 
ages, New Yorkers were hailing cabs, waiting for their town cars and rushing to the subway with all their
festive 
goodies in tow. The inside of the hotel was warm and cozy. The fireplace crackled. My hands were
warmed by 
the delicious Chocolate Kiss in which I was indulging. Two young girls ran by where I was seated and
bumped 
my arm almost causing a fashion emergency. I barely escaped spilling the hot drink all over my white
cashmere 
sweater. If that had happened, my sister surely would have killed me. The sweater was one of her latest
designs 
from her fall/winter collection. The girls were entranced by the beautifully decorated Christmas tree
adorned 
with red and silver ornaments and bows. Several shiny metallic packages embellished with gorgeous
red, green 
and blue ribbons sat beneath the tree, coaxing the girls into rattling the gifts. 
I glanced around the lobby to see if a frantic parent or nanny was following close behind the two
curious 
and wide-eyed girls but didn’t see anyone who seemed to be looking for children they’d lost track of. I
kept a 
close watch on them as they shook several packages, running their fingers over the bows and laughing.
Smil- 
ing, one of them ran up to me. She was holding a small silver present. Giggling she asked, “What do you
think 
this is?” 
It shocked me that this pretty little girl with brown hair would speak to me. Didn’t your parents ever tell
you 
not to talk to strangers? 
Her hair was loosely curled. A black velvet headband neatly held the swirling locks off of her face. She
was 
wearing what appeared to be a Lanvin black dress, which I recognized from their latest collection. My
sister’s 
twins were accustomed to more than a few items from the Lanvin, Dior and Burberry children’s wear
collec- 
tions. 
I smiled at her adorable face. “What do you think it is?” I replied. 
Very quietly, looking me straight in the eye, she answered, “I think it’s chocolate chip biscuits.” 
Upon hearing her speak again, I quickly detected an accent. It was a bit thicker than English, perhaps
Irish 
or even Scottish. I looked at her quizzically. “Biscuits? What are chocolate chip biscuits?” 
Taking a deep sigh, she replied, “You Americans and your words.” She giggled again and waved her
hand 
at me playfully. I was now intrigued even more by this young girl whom I suspected was a bit dramatic. 
“Biscuits are cookies silly.” 
Giggling I asked, “Cookies huh? What makes you think that?” 
“My daddy says the best things come in tiny packages. He says that girls like tiny gifts way more than
great 
big gifts,” she stated very seriously while making a big circular motion with her hands and standing on
her tip 
toes. 
Your dad is smart man. I’d love to peek at your mom’s jewelry box. 
Wrinkling up my nose and smiling I said, “Let me guess. You think chocolate chip cookies… I mean 
chocolate chip biscuits… are the best thing ever?” 
She nodded her head fiercely as her sister came up and stood beside her smiling, saying, “No, Sugar
Snap 
cookies are the best.” 
“No, they’re called Ginger Snaps,” she corrected her sister sternly. 
The other young girl was dressed exactly the same way except her long brown hair was straight with
two 
white bows clipped on either side of her head. 
“My name is Holliday. What are your names?” 
Giggling uncontrollably they both said, “Your name is Holliday?” 
“Like holiday presents?” asked the girl with the straight hair. 
I nodded, giving her a wink. “Something like that.” 
I couldn’t help but smiling at these two lovely faces. I wondered who they belonged to. They told me
their 
names were Leah and Jade. Leah had the bouncy curls, and Jade had the shiny straight tresses. 
“Where are your parents?” I inquired politely. 
They exchanged devious glances and then Leah said, “We left Nanny Ruth in the room because she fell 
asleep.” 
“Ahh-gain,” Jade said loudly, rocking back on her little heels. 
Sensing these two were a mischievous pair I decided to play their little game. I pulled out two sheets of 
blank paper from my messenger bag along with some of my colored pencils. I handed the papers to the
girls, 
keeping them entertained while I asked them a series of questions. 
I asked them if they knew what room they were staying in. They said it was not a room with a number
and 
it was way high upstairs. Of course it was— children running around in Lanvin don’t usually associate
with a 
three digit hotel room and standard pillowcases. This adorable duo was undoubtedly staying in one of
the lav- 
ish suites, maybe even one of the penthouses. I inquired about their last name, and they said it was
Connolly. I 
could only hope the front desk would forego the rules and take pity on these two lost girls by deciding to
ring 
the suite and allow me to return them safely back to their nanny. Easing out of the plush red chair, I told
them I 
would be right back and asked if they could make sure no one took my laptop. 
“You’re very good with them,” I heard a sexy and gritty voice say. 
Looking up I found myself inches away from and staring directly at Ronan Connolly, one of Hollywood’s 
sexiest movie stars. I politely smiled at Ronan and wondered what he was doing in The York Hotel of all
places. 
Both girls jumped up, screaming, “Daddy!” He swept them up in his strong arms, effortlessly kissing
them 
both on their cheeks, and then he gently placed them back to their feet. Immediately I checked my
makeup and 
hair in the mirror above the fireplace. I smiled at my reflection to check my teeth, smoothed out my
loose dark 
brown waves that had become slightly knotted behind my neck and fluffed my blunt bangs. Ronan
returned his 
gaze to me, flashing a half-smile. 
Ronan Connolly was the most coveted leading man these days. The gossip and entertainment blogs
along 
with business insiders all agreed he was the hottest man in Tinsel Town and possibly the world. A few
months 
ago he finished filming the most buzzed about film since The Hunger Games or even Gone Girl. Everyone
was 
waiting to get a peek of Ronan Connolly playing Billionaire London Playboy, Cameron Carlisle in the film,
A Lon- 
don Love Story. Ronan Connolly was dangerously good-looking and even hotter in person. His deep set,
green 
eyes and curly dark, chestnut brown hair coupled with his insanely sculpted body made him the total
sexy 
dreamboat package. Sounds cliché, but no one says, “Oh look at that double chin and beer belly. He’s so
dreamy.” 
I’ve had a few dreams about Cameron Carlisle, or maybe I was actually dreaming about Ronan… some
very 
naughty dreams. Is my mouth hanging open? Dear God tell me it’s not. Thankfully it wasn’t. 
I had to blink twice to make sure it was really him. “Uh… I… I’m sorry they were just,” I stammered. 
Leah saved me by saying, “Oh Daddy, Holliday is our new friend. She’s way more fun than boring sleepy 
Ruth.” 
Great first impression Holliday. Real smooth. 
Ronan smirked at his young daughter’s comment and gave her a pat on the head. People were starting
to 
stop and stare, taking out their cell phones to capture a picture of Ronan. He was not affected by the
sudden 
mob of people that gathered mere feet from where I had been sitting by the fireplace. He calmly
motioned to a 
towering man with broad shoulders and extremely dark glossy hair who was wearing a black leather
jacket. The 
man, who was probably in his late thirties or maybe early forties, had an earpiece or Bluetooth. I’m
guessing 
this tall, physically fit man was Ronan’s bodyguard. They exchanged words, but I could not tell what
Ronan said 
to the man. Within minutes the crowd slowly dissipated. 
An older woman, probably in her mid-fifties, wearing a black and red sweater and black denim jeans
sud- 
denly appeared and came rushing towards the girls. Ruth, I presume. 
“Oh my goodness, Mr. Connolly I am so very sorry sir. I took my heart medication, and I must have
fallen 
asleep again. I will be sure to get that fixed immediately. I will call my doctor now,” she said sharply.
Ruth was 
completely breathless and turning as red as her hair. 
“Ruth, why don’t you head back to your room and rest? I will take care of the girls for the remainder of
the 
evening. You can have the night off. Be sure you call your doctor,” he said firmly and then flashed her his
fa- 
mous movie star mega-watt smile. 
“Yes, thank you Mr. Connolly. I’m just glad the girls are all right. I was scared to death,” she said while
tak- 
ing a floral handkerchief from her pocket and then wiping her brow. She shuffled off, and I couldn’t help
but 
smile at her sweetness. Poor thing was obviously shaken. 
He leaned in close and whispered, “What Ruth doesn’t know is that Dean here,” motioning towards the 
man in the leather jacket with the almond-shaped eyes, “has had his eye on the girls since they plotted
their es- 
cape from the room.” 
He smelled divine. It took everything in me not to inhale his clean masculine scent and sigh deeply. I
prob- 
ably looked like a grinning idiot. 
“You… you knew they were here in the lobby with me?” I asked, feeling my cheeks flush. 
He leaned closer to me. His sexy Irish accent purred the words, “Yes, I quite liked the way you handled
my 
children.” 
Okay, not really sure what that meant, but it was sexy as hell the way he said it. 
I smiled and knotted my fingers together. Stop fidgeting! He’s just a human, not a God. 
“By the way, I’m Ronan,” he said as he extended his hand to mine. As if I didn’t know he was the most 
photographed man on the planet right now. His touch sent an electric current pulsating through me, and
I sud- 
denly felt my knees weaken beneath me. Holliday, snap out of this. Do not get star struck. 
I shifted on my heels. “I’m Holliday, Holliday Prescott, nice to meet you Mr. Connolly.” 
“Call me Ronan, Holliday, please.” 
Jesus Christ. Even the way he said my name made my knees weak. I took a moment to drink in this fine
man 
standing before me. Ronan was casually dressed, wearing an indigo knit sweater with a shawl collar and
dark 
denim jeans. His ink black Oxford style wing tip shoes and a shiny silver Bvlgari watch completed his
stylish 
“handsome dad” look. This guy knew how to wear clothes. I guess that’s because before he became an
actor he 
was a fashion model. I literally felt like he just stepped out of a J. Crew catalog. 
“Holliday, do you have somewhere you need to be tonight?” Ronan inquired while giving me a charming 
and irresistible smile. 
In your bed, writhing beneath your sheets? Fucking your brains out? Is that an option? 
“No, I don’t. Why do you ask, Ronan?” 
“Why don’t you join us for dinner in our suite? Say around seven? I’d love to discuss something with
you.” 
Puzzled, but very curious, I said, “That sounds lovely.” 
“Splendid. Are you staying in the hotel? I can have Dean escort you up.” 
“Yes, I’m in room 504.” 
“Tremendous. I look forward to seeing you. Let’s go girls. Please thank Holliday for allowing you to use 
her art supplies to color.” 
They both said thank you while giving me a hug. Completely adorable. It melted my heart. Jade tugged
on 
my denim jeans just above my knee and handed me the picture she’d been working on. She’d drawn a
picture 
of a Christmas tree with piles of presents underneath. At the top she had a fireplace with some
stockings 
hanging. I was impressed with her coloring and drawing skills— it was quite good. 
“Jade, this is so pretty. You did a very nice job.” 
I tried to hand it back to her, but she shook her head and said, “No, Holliday, that’s for you.” 
Smiling, I thanked her, and she giggled and clapped her hands. Ronan scooped her up. She rested her
chin 
on his broad shoulder and waved back at me as they walked towards the elevators. I followed their path
all the 
way to the elevators, pushing through the crowd as it swallowed them up. Then they were gone. 
I pushed my work aside and spent the next hour reading up on my Saturday evening dinner companion.
I 
already knew some details about the gorgeous movie star, Ronan Connolly, or at least what I thought to
be true 
via Wikipedia, IMDb and a flood of gossip sites. I made notes of his hometown: Cork, Ireland and he just
had 
his 32nd birthday a few days ago. He married the girls’ mom, lingerie model turned actress, Emma
Bailey- 
Wilson seven years ago on April 13th at a private country estate in Wales. Then about three months
later they 
announced they were expecting their first child, Leah, in October. By my calculations Emma Bailey-
Wilson was 
already knocked up before they tied the knot. Lucky bitch. Interestingly enough, nine months after Leah
was 
born the couple announced Emma was pregnant again. Jade was born the following February. 
In the summer that same year, Emma was cast in the political action thriller, Time Bomb. Several enter- 
tainment blogs reported that she and her co-star, Dax Martin, who is one of the biggest action stars in
Holly- 
wood, began an on-set romance. The speculation was that the affair led to her and Ronan’s divorce the
fol- 
lowing year. Emma and Dax are still together today according to, well, according to anyone who pays
attention 
to pop culture. 
Dax Martin has been linked to some of Hollywood’s most gorgeous actresses and a few high-profile 
supermodels. He was engaged to the jewelry designer Estelle Hughes for a brief time. I did not know
that little 
tidbit. What I did know about Mr. Martin was that he was a hot head. The guy had a reputation for flying
off the 
handle, punching paparazzi and even breaking their cameras. He was also part owner of a club in Tribeca
and 
an outspoken political activist. 
Okay enough about this douchebag. 
My mind was racing, devouring copious amounts of information. Reading on I found out that after
Ronan 
and Emma’s divorce, Ronan hadn’t been exclusive with anyone. The gossip blogs had pictures of him
with pret- 
ty models on the streets of London and Los Angeles. Others had him linked to his co-star Heather Young
from 
These Streets of Dublin, the film that won a Golden Globe for Best Picture and pushed him into the
spotlight 
overnight. He was a supporting actor in the film, but the media praised him more than the lead actors
for his 
performance. Several articles agreed that he was snubbed and overlooked for numerous awards for
which he’d 
deserved to be nominated. I must say I’ve seen that movie twenty times, at least. His work is insanely
good. 
My curiosity for Mr. Ronan Connolly was growing more intense by the minute with every article and
pseu- 
do fact I read. It was like an itch that I just kept scratching. I needed to know more about this handsome
man. I 
had fallen down the proverbial rabbit hole. 
I happened upon, accidently of course, some of his modeling photographs. Campaigns, runway shows 
and sexy fashion editorials were splashed all over the World Wide Web. Specifically, I was drawn to his
under- 
wear modeling with Velocity. The man was chiseled and perfect in ways that seemed unattainable. I
began hav- 
ing mind-blowing thoughts of running my tongue up and down his defined rock-hard abs and prayed to
God 
that his manhood showcased in the tight undies was just as deliciously bulging in real life. Please don’t
let this 
be a camera trick. My sweater suddenly felt too warm for my body and the lower part of stomach was
fluttering 
madly. Focus Holliday. Lowering my gaze, I noticed the time on my laptop read five after six. I was
stunned that 
my snooping had allowed time to go by so swiftly. I quickly packed up my stuff and headed up to my
room to 
get ready for my dinner with Ronan Connolly. Oh My God! I’m having dinner with Ronan Connolly. 
Chapter Two

I arrived in my room to find a rather large Burberry gift box lying on the bed. I popped off the lid and
dis- 
covered a handwritten note signed by Ronan. The note read: I HOPE YOU WILL WEAR THIS DRESS FOR
OUR 
DINNER TONIGHT. I LOOK FORWARD TO SEEING YOU. CHEERS, RC 
I pushed back the white and silver tissue paper to find the most beautiful emerald green, silk chiffon, 
sleeveless dress with ruffles cascading off the hips and a sexy plunging neckline. My mouth gaped at the
sight 
of this straight-off-the runway gorgeous dress. The soft sheer fabric felt heavenly between my fingers. I
quickly 
hung it up on one of the silk padded hangers and feverishly rummaged through my shoes. I’d only
brought my 
black pumps with me this time and they were totally wrong for this dress. This dress needed pair of
strappy 
heels. Looking at the clock I realized I didn’t have any time to run to a boutique or department store. I
won- 
dered if I had time to trek a few blocks to my sister’s penthouse and grab the pair of black Jimmy Choo
sandals 
out of my closet I knew would be perfect. No, that would not be possible. I didn’t even have the right
jewelry or 
undergarments. No! This was all wrong, completely and totally wrong. 
My heart began to pound wildly in my chest. I started breathing heavily and tears flowed down my
cheeks. 
I couldn’t catch my breath. The panic was coming on rapidly. My chest was tight, and my throat went
dry. It was 
painful. I walked into the bathroom, eyeing my reflection in the mirror. My eyes burned. I felt like my
sweater 
was choking me. The rest of my outfit felt like fire on my skin, and I couldn’t get my clothes off fast
enough to 
calm the heat my body was feeling. 
Remember what Dr. Goodwin said, deep breaths and count to ten. 
Desperately trying to hold myself up, I placed my palms flat on top of the marble vanity. 
In and out. One. In and out. Two. 
My knees buckled and I couldn’t seem to regain control of my loose limbs or my breathing. I had to start 
over from one. When I got to seven, my arms stopped shaking. When I got to nine, the tears had
stopped, and 
when I reached ten I was able to clutch a glass and turn on the water. I opened the bottle sitting to my
right and 
popped a Xanax. 
I hadn’t endured a panic attack in weeks. The last one was brought on by my niece when she’d
accidently 
dropped a rocks glass on the floor and it shattered into a million tiny pieces around her. The blood-
curdling 
screams she cried out had sent chills up my spine, reminding me of that nightmare ten hours I’d spent
fearing 
for my life. 
My thoughts drifted to my friend, Maggie, short for Margaret, as I turned on the hot water. Maggie
Mills, 
the former playwright turned Upper East Side Socialite. We met in our rape crisis group when I moved to
New 
York. She was the first person I’d talked to who truly understood the terrifying trauma I had gone
through be- 
cause, unfortunately, Maggie had been raped, too. The best advice I ever received was from Maggie,
“Holliday, I 
see the strength you have inside you. You’re a tough cookie, a lot like this broad. You stay strong. The
rape took 
away your control you must fight to bring it back.” And that is what I have done, every single day since
Maggie 
Mills demanded it of me. 
Standing in the shower, I inhaled deeply and let the scent of peppermint soothe my senses and relax my 
body. The foamy suds slid down my neck, over my breasts, down my arms, my legs and over my ever-
present 
scars. I ran my finger over the one on my hip and shuddered. I pushed the ugly memory out of my mind.
The 
warm water rushed over my still tense shoulders, slowly bringing me to a calmer state of mind. 
Stepping out of the shower, I wrapped myself in one of the plush white Egyptian cotton towels. I
decided 
to wear my black pencil skirt and a cream silk blouse. I would have to explain that I simply did not have
the 
right accessories for the dress. I hoped that Ronan would understand and not be offended. I
straightened my 
hair and touched up my makeup before I slipped on my favorite silver necklace. One last glance in the
mirror 
and I was ready. 
Hearing a knock at the door, I glossed my lips with a slick creamy nude color and then scooped up my 
clutch. I opened the door to find Dean standing there, giving me a wide-eyed look with his golden brown
eyes. 
“Ready for your evening, Miss Prescott?” 
“I am. Hello Dean and thank you for escorting me.” 
He smiled, giving me a head nod, and I followed him to the elevators. The hallway smelled of fresh
flowers 
and I noticed two large vases containing red and white poinsettias on the console in the hallway. The
doors to 
the elevator opened to an empty car. Dean placed his keycard in the Park Avenue Penthouse slit and
pressed 
the button. Suite my ass! I was going to the penthouse. 
The shiny chrome doors parted revealing a private foyer with an elegant chandelier hanging from the
ceil- 
ing. When the white lacquered door to the penthouse opened I felt like all the air had been sucked out
from my 
lungs. I thought I might have stumbled onto a movie set. Candles lit up the entire room and jazz music
poured 
through the speakers. I noticed a large black grand piano in the corner of the room, along with a
stunning floor 
to ceiling marble slab fireplace. The drapes were pulled back from the giant picture window in the living
room, 
revealing the illuminated Manhattan skyline as snow poured down from the sky. Everything in the room
was 
beige and white with accents of gold and silver. I couldn’t have dreamed of a more romantic setting. 
Candles? Music? Champagne? Was Ronan Connolly trying to seduce me? 
He stood near the bar and popped the cork on the champagne. The noise caught me off-guard and
made 
me jump. Ronan was dressed in a sleek navy blue suit with a white collared shirt— the first few buttons
were 
undone. He is too hot for his own good. He is too hot for my own good. I could be easily seduced by this
sexy man in 
the blue suit. Careful to remain calm I did not show any starry-eyed emotion, only coolness. 
He glanced at me as I entered the room, frowning slightly. Ronan approached me, taking slow short 
strides, moving effortlessly across the penthouse. I swallowed hard. Watching him move towards me so
grace- 
fully was a little unnerving. I locked my gaze on Ronan’s piercing jade eyes. They were like lasers slicing 
through my soul. 
“Holliday welcome. Thank you for joining me. Did you not like the dress I had sent to your room?” he 
asked coolly while handing me a glass of champagne. Another lump crept into my throat. I swallowed,
closing 
my eyes, and then counted to three in my head. 
“Mr. Connolly… err… uhmm… sorry Ronan. I loved the dress. It was absolutely gorgeous. However, I
didn’t 
have the right accessories.” I looked for a sign from him, anything that would make me feel at ease in
that mo- 
ment. He smiled at me and then gave me a wink. That was it. “I would love to have worn the dress
tonight. You 
can send it back if you like. I didn’t even try it on,” I said softly. 
“That’s okay, Holliday. You keep the dress. It’s on me,” he said very firmly. Turning on his heel and
gently 
clutching my hand, Ronan led me to the dining room. My eyes quickly took in the elegantly styled
rectangular 
dark espresso colored table with eight beige high-back chairs. A gorgeous centerpiece featuring three
red pillar 
candles was surrounded by a holly wreath and pine cones. Every seat had a place setting complete for a
four 
course meal. 
“Join me won’t you?” he said while gesturing to the chair opposite him that he had set back from the
table 
for me. Such a gentleman. 
I couldn’t help but be mesmerized by everything this man did: the way he held his champagne glass, the 
way his firm lips parted when he took a drink— it was all so… tempting. His hair, dark and lustrous, could
al- 
most have been mistaken for jet black, but the candlelight caught the sultry deep brown edges with
every flick- 
er. Dean came into the room and whispered something to Ronan. Even the way he leaned his body back
was 
sexy. Get a grip Holliday. 
Ronan excused himself to take a phone call. I scanned the room, taking a few sips of the bubbly cham- 
pagne. It was unlike anything I’d ever tasted before. It probably cost a fortune. It tasted expensive.
Ronan re- 
turned and apologized again for stepping away. Our meal arrived just as I had finished my first glass of
cham- 
pagne. The aroma of rich flavors and spices was so tantalizing it made my mouth water. We started with
a but- 
ternut squash soup which was actually quite yummy. For our main course Ronan ordered beef
tenderloin 
served with roasted carrots and a potato puree. Bold choice, what if I was a vegetarian? 
“Where are Jade and Leah?” I asked. 
“They’re in one of the guest suites upstairs sleeping. They were still pretty shattered from the flight yes- 
terday.” 
“Shattered?” I asked. 
“Too right, apologies. Shattered is Irish slang for one being tired.” 
“Oh I see, and what brought you to New York City?” 
“I had a photo shoot for One Park Avenue Magazine. I brought the girls out from California because
they 
wanted to see the giant Christmas tree at Rockefeller Plaza,” he said with a smile. 
I love One Park Avenue Magazine. I had just been there a few weeks ago, dropping off some of my
sister’s 
designs for a photo shoot. 
“They really love Christmas, huh?” I asked in between bites. 
He nodded and then took a drink of his champagne. “Why are you in the city, Holliday?” 
“Oh, me.” I swallowed and lifted the napkin to my lips. “I live here.” 
“You live here, in the hotel?” he inquired, giving me a curious look. 
I giggled. “No, sorry. I mean I live here in New York City. I live with my sister Charlotte and her family on 
Park Avenue. I’m originally from California, Malibu in fact, but I...I’m sorry I’m probably boring you with
my life 
story.” 
A couple times a month I leave my sister’s place and check into a hotel, usually The York, to give her and 
her husband privacy. They insist I don’t need to, but it’s the least I can do since Charlotte and Lucan let
me stay 
with them rent-free. Plus, it’s a good way for me to get some quiet time and try to regain my
independence. Dr. 
Goodwin says being alone a few times a month will help me to overcome my fears. So far it’s worked
wonders. 
I’ve come a long way in two years, although I’m still not ready to get a place of my own. I’m not sure I
ever will 
be able to live alone again. I really want to, but as long as he is out there… as long as they’re out there… I
don’t 
feel safe. 
“Quite the opposite, actually Holliday. I find everything about you to be anything but boring.” 
I blushed and felt a warmth rush over my neck. I started to become skeptical. This was all too much.
Why 
would a movie star be hitting on me? Unless he did this sort of thing all the time. We’re not in public.
There are no 
photographers around to take our pictures. Maybe this is why he’s never linked to anyone— there’s no
physical 
evidence. He could secretly be a typical Hollywood manwhore. Ronan probably makes women sign non- 
disclosure forms so they can never spill the details to the tabloids. My head was spinning as it was busy
con- 
juring up these suspicions. My wild thoughts of Ronan Connolly actually being like his character,
Cameron 
Carlisle wealthy sex-god, were interrupted. 
“How’s your food, Holliday?” 
Lifting my head up from the plate, I paused a moment before answering. Ronan was sitting back in his 
chair, sipping another glass of champagne and eyeing me intently. I felt my breath hitch as I tried to
speak. 
Chew. Chew. Chew and Swallow. Do not fucking choke in front of this gorgeous man. 
“It’s very good. Thank you,” I said as he poured more bubbly goodness into my glass. 
“Holliday, you mentioned you didn’t have the proper accessories to wear the dress. May I ask what
acces- 
sories you needed?” 
Without hesitation, I began. “My shoes are all wrong. The dress requires a strappy black heel, maybe
silver 
for a touch of metallic sparkle. All that I had with me were these black pumps. I didn’t have time to shop
or run 
over to my sister’s to grab another pair. The jewels should be delicate like the fabric of the dress.
Perhaps a 
small diamond bracelet and diamond earrings that dangle. Nothing ornate, something simple and classic
to 
compliment the cascading ruffles on the neckline. There was one more thing, my undergarments, but
that is 
way too personal to discuss with you. It’s… it’s a girl thing.” 
My slight neurosis for specifics just spilled all over this elegant table. Flexing his long fingers and then 
wrapping them around his glass, Ronan stared at me, seducing me with his dazzling dark eyes. They
shined, 
not like emeralds, rather like an unknown jewel, something that has yet to be discovered. 
Jesus Christ! I think I had an orgasm from him eye fucking the shit out of me just then. 
Ronan leaned closer to me. Subtle and crisp, his scent enveloped me and tickled my nose. It was 
intoxicating, like an exotic flower placing me under its magical spell. “I’d love nothing more than to
discuss 
your personal girl things with you, Holliday, paying careful attention to your undergarments,” he
whispered 
harshly as he ran his hand up my thigh. 
Oh my. 
“Do you say these sorts of things to all the women you wine and dine?” I scoffed. 
“What do you mean exactly, Holliday?” 
“The models. The actresses. Whomever.” I sucked in a breath as his hand continued to stroke my thigh. 
“This is not a ploy, Holliday. I find you quite… alluring. I find myself drawn to you.” 
“Alluring? You find me alluring, Mr. Connolly?” 
Oh Christ, give me a break, that’s a total line. Isn’t it? 
“Holliday, please call me Ronan.” He stood up and reached his hand out to me as he asked warmly, “Fol- 
low me, please?” 
I placed my hand in his and he led me back to the living room. Taking a seat on the tufted beige sofa I 
watched him pour two glasses of dark liquid from a cut glass bottle. I assumed it was Irish whiskey.
Peering out 
the large window that overlooked the city, I noticed it was snowing heavily now, a near white out. I
couldn’t 
even see Central Park. Ronan handed me a glass. I inhaled the smoky flavor and took a sip of the
delicious and 
smooth liquid. It slid down my throat and into my stomach where it instantly warmed my insides. 
“Holliday, will you indulge me?” he said as he took a seat in the armchair across from me. My pulse
accel- 
erated. Watching Ronan sipping his drink, I asked, “Maybe, what does this indulgence of yours
require?” 
“Go to your room. Slip the dress on, only the dress. No shoes. No jewels. No intimates. And return as 
quickly as possible. Dessert will be arriving shortly.” His irresistible accent was firm. Those dark eyes
blazed 
into me, and I was enticed by this request. 
I agreed and Dean escorted me back to my room. He waited outside as I quickly changed. I did
everything 
Ronan asked except I kept my panties on and wore my slippers back to the penthouse. I wasn’t about to
walk 
barefoot through the hotel. When I arrived back to the penthouse, Ronan was still sitting in the chair
where I’d 
left him. As I kicked off my slippers in the entryway, I could feel his molten stare upon me, burning into
my 
body. I felt a flush blooming across my chest. Tipping my head in his direction, I watched Ronan take a
sip of 
the dark liquid and push to his feet before buttoning his jacket. He stalked towards me as I entered the
living 
room. I stopped. My lips parted as the quietest of whimpers escaped me, and he began to circle me like I
was 
his prey. Nervous, but unafraid, I felt a deep ache in my thighs that spread upward. He slowly skimmed
his 
hand up one of my arms and then the other. He then stood behind me, brushing my hair off my neck
with his 
long fingers and whispering, “You look positively beautiful.” 
I could smell he whiskey on his breath as the words rolled off his tongue. A chill curled up my spine, and
I 
swear to God it made my nipples harden. 
“Please join me in the dining room for some dessert.” 
I returned to my seat from earlier, still pulled out and waiting for my arrival. In front of me was a
mouthwa- 
tering slice of New York cheesecake drizzled with a light raspberry glaze. 
“Please sit. Eat. Enjoy. Now I can spend the next few moments enjoying the sight of you wearing that
dress 
and another few imaging how I can get you out of it.” 
I nearly choked on a piece of cheesecake as I heard those words fall from his perfect lips. Lips so
beautiful 
that I desperately wanted to kiss them. I felt very hot and wet, so very wet at the thought of fucking
Ronan Con- 
nolly. But then something in my brain snapped, and I got angry. My temper flared. If he thinks he can
just buy 
me a dress, treat me to one delicious dinner and turn on the fuck me eyes, I’m a cheaper date than I
ever 
thought I was. I pushed back my plate and finished my glass of champagne with one sip. No sense in
letting 
these expensive bubbles go to waste. 
“Mr. Connolly… Ronan. I’m not going to let you fuck me tonight. What I am going to do is give you the 
image of me walking right out that door wearing nothing but a pair of lace panties.” 
I lifted the dress, the simply gorgeous dress that matched his eyes, over my head and flung it over the
sofa 
as I sauntered to the door. I walked a little slower than normal, giving him a lasting impression of my
body. I 
saw Dean standing at the door. He was visibly shocked and turned around quickly as to not peek at my 
gorgeous but somewhat scarred physique. 
“No need to be embarrassed Dean, might as well take a peek of the goods,” I said sharply. “I would like
to 
go back to my room if you don’t mind.” 
I grabbed my clutch off the credenza in the foyer and folded my arms over my breasts as Dean opened
the 
door for me. Ronan said nothing. He just stared at me blankly, running his hand through his beautiful
luscious 
curls. I walked out the door and straight into the elevator, which thank God was empty. Dean took off
his 
leather jacket and wrapped it around me. I nodded and smiled. 
As we rode the elevator again in silence I couldn’t help but smirk. Biting my lower lip, I thought about
how 
that simple act had made me feel empowered, unafraid and in control. That was, without question, the
most in 
control of a situation I’d felt in a long time, and I needed that. As much as I desired to fuck Ronan
Connolly, 
and believe me I’d imagined it many times, I’d be damned if I was going to let him make me just another
name- 
less notch on his bed. 
Dean walked me to my room, and I went inside to grab my robe. I quickly returned to the door, saying 
thank you and goodnight, while handing Dean back his heavy jacket. He turned to walk away but
stopped, and 
then he said, “Miss Prescott, if it means anything to you, Mr. Connolly is a good man. He doesn’t do
much dat- 
ing because of the girls. I’ve never seen him invite a woman to dinner while he’s with his children. I just 
thought you should know. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” 
Fuck. Well now I felt a little bad, maybe really bad. I’d just blown off the hottest man I’d ever met. Could
I 
have been wrong? No, I was sure Dean was paid to say that stuff to get women to go back to Ronan
once he’d 
insulted them. It was probably all just a Hollywood game. 

Chapter Two

I arrived in my room to find a rather large Burberry gift box lying on the bed. I popped off the lid and
dis- 
covered a handwritten note signed by Ronan. The note read: I HOPE YOU WILL WEAR THIS DRESS FOR
OUR 
DINNER TONIGHT. I LOOK FORWARD TO SEEING YOU. CHEERS, RC 
I pushed back the white and silver tissue paper to find the most beautiful emerald green, silk chiffon, 
sleeveless dress with ruffles cascading off the hips and a sexy plunging neckline. My mouth gaped at the
sight 
of this straight-off-the runway gorgeous dress. The soft sheer fabric felt heavenly between my fingers. I
quickly 
hung it up on one of the silk padded hangers and feverishly rummaged through my shoes. I’d only
brought my 
black pumps with me this time and they were totally wrong for this dress. This dress needed pair of
strappy 
heels. Looking at the clock I realized I didn’t have any time to run to a boutique or department store. I
won- 
dered if I had time to trek a few blocks to my sister’s penthouse and grab the pair of black Jimmy Choo
sandals 
out of my closet I knew would be perfect. No, that would not be possible. I didn’t even have the right
jewelry or 
undergarments. No! This was all wrong, completely and totally wrong. 
My heart began to pound wildly in my chest. I started breathing heavily and tears flowed down my
cheeks. 
I couldn’t catch my breath. The panic was coming on rapidly. My chest was tight, and my throat went
dry. It was 
painful. I walked into the bathroom, eyeing my reflection in the mirror. My eyes burned. I felt like my
sweater 
was choking me. The rest of my outfit felt like fire on my skin, and I couldn’t get my clothes off fast
enough to 
calm the heat my body was feeling. 
Remember what Dr. Goodwin said, deep breaths and count to ten. 
Desperately trying to hold myself up, I placed my palms flat on top of the marble vanity. 
In and out. One. In and out. Two. 
My knees buckled and I couldn’t seem to regain control of my loose limbs or my breathing. I had to start 
over from one. When I got to seven, my arms stopped shaking. When I got to nine, the tears had
stopped, and 
when I reached ten I was able to clutch a glass and turn on the water. I opened the bottle sitting to my
right and 
popped a Xanax. 
I hadn’t endured a panic attack in weeks. The last one was brought on by my niece when she’d
accidently 
dropped a rocks glass on the floor and it shattered into a million tiny pieces around her. The blood-
curdling 
screams she cried out had sent chills up my spine, reminding me of that nightmare ten hours I’d spent
fearing 
for my life. 
My thoughts drifted to my friend, Maggie, short for Margaret, as I turned on the hot water. Maggie
Mills, 
the former playwright turned Upper East Side Socialite. We met in our rape crisis group when I moved to
New 
York. She was the first person I’d talked to who truly understood the terrifying trauma I had gone
through be- 
cause, unfortunately, Maggie had been raped, too. The best advice I ever received was from Maggie,
“Holliday, I 
see the strength you have inside you. You’re a tough cookie, a lot like this broad. You stay strong. The
rape took 
away your control you must fight to bring it back.” And that is what I have done, every single day since
Maggie 
Mills demanded it of me. 
Standing in the shower, I inhaled deeply and let the scent of peppermint soothe my senses and relax my 
body. The foamy suds slid down my neck, over my breasts, down my arms, my legs and over my ever-
present 
scars. I ran my finger over the one on my hip and shuddered. I pushed the ugly memory out of my mind.
The 
warm water rushed over my still tense shoulders, slowly bringing me to a calmer state of mind. 
Stepping out of the shower, I wrapped myself in one of the plush white Egyptian cotton towels. I
decided 
to wear my black pencil skirt and a cream silk blouse. I would have to explain that I simply did not have
the 
right accessories for the dress. I hoped that Ronan would understand and not be offended. I
straightened my 
hair and touched up my makeup before I slipped on my favorite silver necklace. One last glance in the
mirror 
and I was ready. 
Hearing a knock at the door, I glossed my lips with a slick creamy nude color and then scooped up my 
clutch. I opened the door to find Dean standing there, giving me a wide-eyed look with his golden brown
eyes. 
“Ready for your evening, Miss Prescott?” 
“I am. Hello Dean and thank you for escorting me.” 
He smiled, giving me a head nod, and I followed him to the elevators. The hallway smelled of fresh
flowers 
and I noticed two large vases containing red and white poinsettias on the console in the hallway. The
doors to 
the elevator opened to an empty car. Dean placed his keycard in the Park Avenue Penthouse slit and
pressed 
the button. Suite my ass! I was going to the penthouse. 
The shiny chrome doors parted revealing a private foyer with an elegant chandelier hanging from the
ceil- 
ing. When the white lacquered door to the penthouse opened I felt like all the air had been sucked out
from my 
lungs. I thought I might have stumbled onto a movie set. Candles lit up the entire room and jazz music
poured 
through the speakers. I noticed a large black grand piano in the corner of the room, along with a
stunning floor 
to ceiling marble slab fireplace. The drapes were pulled back from the giant picture window in the living
room, 
revealing the illuminated Manhattan skyline as snow poured down from the sky. Everything in the room
was 
beige and white with accents of gold and silver. I couldn’t have dreamed of a more romantic setting. 
Candles? Music? Champagne? Was Ronan Connolly trying to seduce me? 
He stood near the bar and popped the cork on the champagne. The noise caught me off-guard and
made 
me jump. Ronan was dressed in a sleek navy blue suit with a white collared shirt— the first few buttons
were 
undone. He is too hot for his own good. He is too hot for my own good. I could be easily seduced by this
sexy man in 
the blue suit. Careful to remain calm I did not show any starry-eyed emotion, only coolness. 
He glanced at me as I entered the room, frowning slightly. Ronan approached me, taking slow short 
strides, moving effortlessly across the penthouse. I swallowed hard. Watching him move towards me so
grace- 
fully was a little unnerving. I locked my gaze on Ronan’s piercing jade eyes. They were like lasers slicing 
through my soul. 
“Holliday welcome. Thank you for joining me. Did you not like the dress I had sent to your room?” he 
asked coolly while handing me a glass of champagne. Another lump crept into my throat. I swallowed,
closing 
my eyes, and then counted to three in my head. 
“Mr. Connolly… err… uhmm… sorry Ronan. I loved the dress. It was absolutely gorgeous. However, I
didn’t 
have the right accessories.” I looked for a sign from him, anything that would make me feel at ease in
that mo- 
ment. He smiled at me and then gave me a wink. That was it. “I would love to have worn the dress
tonight. You 
can send it back if you like. I didn’t even try it on,” I said softly. 
“That’s okay, Holliday. You keep the dress. It’s on me,” he said very firmly. Turning on his heel and
gently 
clutching my hand, Ronan led me to the dining room. My eyes quickly took in the elegantly styled
rectangular 
dark espresso colored table with eight beige high-back chairs. A gorgeous centerpiece featuring three
red pillar 
candles was surrounded by a holly wreath and pine cones. Every seat had a place setting complete for a
four 
course meal. 
“Join me won’t you?” he said while gesturing to the chair opposite him that he had set back from the
table 
for me. Such a gentleman. 
I couldn’t help but be mesmerized by everything this man did: the way he held his champagne glass, the 
way his firm lips parted when he took a drink— it was all so… tempting. His hair, dark and lustrous, could
al- 
most have been mistaken for jet black, but the candlelight caught the sultry deep brown edges with
every flick- 
er. Dean came into the room and whispered something to Ronan. Even the way he leaned his body back
was 
sexy. Get a grip Holliday. 
Ronan excused himself to take a phone call. I scanned the room, taking a few sips of the bubbly cham- 
pagne. It was unlike anything I’d ever tasted before. It probably cost a fortune. It tasted expensive.
Ronan re- 
turned and apologized again for stepping away. Our meal arrived just as I had finished my first glass of
cham- 
pagne. The aroma of rich flavors and spices was so tantalizing it made my mouth water. We started with
a but- 
ternut squash soup which was actually quite yummy. For our main course Ronan ordered beef
tenderloin 
served with roasted carrots and a potato puree. Bold choice, what if I was a vegetarian? 
“Where are Jade and Leah?” I asked. 
“They’re in one of the guest suites upstairs sleeping. They were still pretty shattered from the flight yes- 
terday.” 
“Shattered?” I asked. 
“Too right, apologies. Shattered is Irish slang for one being tired.” 
“Oh I see, and what brought you to New York City?” 
“I had a photo shoot for One Park Avenue Magazine. I brought the girls out from California because
they 
wanted to see the giant Christmas tree at Rockefeller Plaza,” he said with a smile. 
I love One Park Avenue Magazine. I had just been there a few weeks ago, dropping off some of my
sister’s 
designs for a photo shoot. 
“They really love Christmas, huh?” I asked in between bites. 
He nodded and then took a drink of his champagne. “Why are you in the city, Holliday?” 
“Oh, me.” I swallowed and lifted the napkin to my lips. “I live here.” 
“You live here, in the hotel?” he inquired, giving me a curious look. 
I giggled. “No, sorry. I mean I live here in New York City. I live with my sister Charlotte and her family on 
Park Avenue. I’m originally from California, Malibu in fact, but I...I’m sorry I’m probably boring you with
my life 
story.” 
A couple times a month I leave my sister’s place and check into a hotel, usually The York, to give her and 
her husband privacy. They insist I don’t need to, but it’s the least I can do since Charlotte and Lucan let
me stay 
with them rent-free. Plus, it’s a good way for me to get some quiet time and try to regain my
independence. Dr. 
Goodwin says being alone a few times a month will help me to overcome my fears. So far it’s worked
wonders. 
I’ve come a long way in two years, although I’m still not ready to get a place of my own. I’m not sure I
ever will 
be able to live alone again. I really want to, but as long as he is out there… as long as they’re out there… I
don’t 
feel safe. 
“Quite the opposite, actually Holliday. I find everything about you to be anything but boring.” 
I blushed and felt a warmth rush over my neck. I started to become skeptical. This was all too much.
Why 
would a movie star be hitting on me? Unless he did this sort of thing all the time. We’re not in public.
There are no 
photographers around to take our pictures. Maybe this is why he’s never linked to anyone— there’s no
physical 
evidence. He could secretly be a typical Hollywood manwhore. Ronan probably makes women sign non- 
disclosure forms so they can never spill the details to the tabloids. My head was spinning as it was busy
con- 
juring up these suspicions. My wild thoughts of Ronan Connolly actually being like his character,
Cameron 
Carlisle wealthy sex-god, were interrupted. 
“How’s your food, Holliday?” 
Lifting my head up from the plate, I paused a moment before answering. Ronan was sitting back in his 
chair, sipping another glass of champagne and eyeing me intently. I felt my breath hitch as I tried to
speak. 
Chew. Chew. Chew and Swallow. Do not fucking choke in front of this gorgeous man. 
“It’s very good. Thank you,” I said as he poured more bubbly goodness into my glass. 
“Holliday, you mentioned you didn’t have the proper accessories to wear the dress. May I ask what
acces- 
sories you needed?” 
Without hesitation, I began. “My shoes are all wrong. The dress requires a strappy black heel, maybe
silver 
for a touch of metallic sparkle. All that I had with me were these black pumps. I didn’t have time to shop
or run 
over to my sister’s to grab another pair. The jewels should be delicate like the fabric of the dress.
Perhaps a 
small diamond bracelet and diamond earrings that dangle. Nothing ornate, something simple and classic
to 
compliment the cascading ruffles on the neckline. There was one more thing, my undergarments, but
that is 
way too personal to discuss with you. It’s… it’s a girl thing.” 
My slight neurosis for specifics just spilled all over this elegant table. Flexing his long fingers and then 
wrapping them around his glass, Ronan stared at me, seducing me with his dazzling dark eyes. They
shined, 
not like emeralds, rather like an unknown jewel, something that has yet to be discovered. 
Jesus Christ! I think I had an orgasm from him eye fucking the shit out of me just then. 
Ronan leaned closer to me. Subtle and crisp, his scent enveloped me and tickled my nose. It was 
intoxicating, like an exotic flower placing me under its magical spell. “I’d love nothing more than to
discuss 
your personal girl things with you, Holliday, paying careful attention to your undergarments,” he
whispered 
harshly as he ran his hand up my thigh. 
Oh my. 
“Do you say these sorts of things to all the women you wine and dine?” I scoffed. 
“What do you mean exactly, Holliday?” 
“The models. The actresses. Whomever.” I sucked in a breath as his hand continued to stroke my thigh. 
“This is not a ploy, Holliday. I find you quite… alluring. I find myself drawn to you.” 
“Alluring? You find me alluring, Mr. Connolly?” 
Oh Christ, give me a break, that’s a total line. Isn’t it? 
“Holliday, please call me Ronan.” He stood up and reached his hand out to me as he asked warmly, “Fol- 
low me, please?” 
I placed my hand in his and he led me back to the living room. Taking a seat on the tufted beige sofa I 
watched him pour two glasses of dark liquid from a cut glass bottle. I assumed it was Irish whiskey.
Peering out 
the large window that overlooked the city, I noticed it was snowing heavily now, a near white out. I
couldn’t 
even see Central Park. Ronan handed me a glass. I inhaled the smoky flavor and took a sip of the
delicious and 
smooth liquid. It slid down my throat and into my stomach where it instantly warmed my insides. 
“Holliday, will you indulge me?” he said as he took a seat in the armchair across from me. My pulse
accel- 
erated. Watching Ronan sipping his drink, I asked, “Maybe, what does this indulgence of yours
require?” 
“Go to your room. Slip the dress on, only the dress. No shoes. No jewels. No intimates. And return as 
quickly as possible. Dessert will be arriving shortly.” His irresistible accent was firm. Those dark eyes
blazed 
into me, and I was enticed by this request. 
I agreed and Dean escorted me back to my room. He waited outside as I quickly changed. I did
everything 
Ronan asked except I kept my panties on and wore my slippers back to the penthouse. I wasn’t about to
walk 
barefoot through the hotel. When I arrived back to the penthouse, Ronan was still sitting in the chair
where I’d 
left him. As I kicked off my slippers in the entryway, I could feel his molten stare upon me, burning into
my 
body. I felt a flush blooming across my chest. Tipping my head in his direction, I watched Ronan take a
sip of 
the dark liquid and push to his feet before buttoning his jacket. He stalked towards me as I entered the
living 
room. I stopped. My lips parted as the quietest of whimpers escaped me, and he began to circle me like I
was 
his prey. Nervous, but unafraid, I felt a deep ache in my thighs that spread upward. He slowly skimmed
his 
hand up one of my arms and then the other. He then stood behind me, brushing my hair off my neck
with his 
long fingers and whispering, “You look positively beautiful.” 
I could smell he whiskey on his breath as the words rolled off his tongue. A chill curled up my spine, and
I 
swear to God it made my nipples harden. 
“Please join me in the dining room for some dessert.” 
I returned to my seat from earlier, still pulled out and waiting for my arrival. In front of me was a
mouthwa- 
tering slice of New York cheesecake drizzled with a light raspberry glaze. 
“Please sit. Eat. Enjoy. Now I can spend the next few moments enjoying the sight of you wearing that
dress 
and another few imaging how I can get you out of it.” 
I nearly choked on a piece of cheesecake as I heard those words fall from his perfect lips. Lips so
beautiful 
that I desperately wanted to kiss them. I felt very hot and wet, so very wet at the thought of fucking
Ronan Con- 
nolly. But then something in my brain snapped, and I got angry. My temper flared. If he thinks he can
just buy 
me a dress, treat me to one delicious dinner and turn on the fuck me eyes, I’m a cheaper date than I
ever 
thought I was. I pushed back my plate and finished my glass of champagne with one sip. No sense in
letting 
these expensive bubbles go to waste. 
“Mr. Connolly… Ronan. I’m not going to let you fuck me tonight. What I am going to do is give you the 
image of me walking right out that door wearing nothing but a pair of lace panties.” 
I lifted the dress, the simply gorgeous dress that matched his eyes, over my head and flung it over the
sofa 
as I sauntered to the door. I walked a little slower than normal, giving him a lasting impression of my
body. I 
saw Dean standing at the door. He was visibly shocked and turned around quickly as to not peek at my 
gorgeous but somewhat scarred physique. 
“No need to be embarrassed Dean, might as well take a peek of the goods,” I said sharply. “I would like
to 
go back to my room if you don’t mind.” 
I grabbed my clutch off the credenza in the foyer and folded my arms over my breasts as Dean opened
the 
door for me. Ronan said nothing. He just stared at me blankly, running his hand through his beautiful
luscious 
curls. I walked out the door and straight into the elevator, which thank God was empty. Dean took off
his 
leather jacket and wrapped it around me. I nodded and smiled. 
As we rode the elevator again in silence I couldn’t help but smirk. Biting my lower lip, I thought about
how 
that simple act had made me feel empowered, unafraid and in control. That was, without question, the
most in 
control of a situation I’d felt in a long time, and I needed that. As much as I desired to fuck Ronan
Connolly, 
and believe me I’d imagined it many times, I’d be damned if I was going to let him make me just another
name- 
less notch on his bed. 
Dean walked me to my room, and I went inside to grab my robe. I quickly returned to the door, saying 
thank you and goodnight, while handing Dean back his heavy jacket. He turned to walk away but
stopped, and 
then he said, “Miss Prescott, if it means anything to you, Mr. Connolly is a good man. He doesn’t do
much dat- 
ing because of the girls. I’ve never seen him invite a woman to dinner while he’s with his children. I just 
thought you should know. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” 
Fuck. Well now I felt a little bad, maybe really bad. I’d just blown off the hottest man I’d ever met. Could
I 
have been wrong? No, I was sure Dean was paid to say that stuff to get women to go back to Ronan
once he’d 
insulted them. It was probably all just a Hollywood game. 

Chapter Three

I woke up to the sound of someone knocking at my door. Lifting my head, I spied through squinting eyes 
that my bed was torn apart. Sitting up I noticed my pussy was aching. The back of my hair was soaking
wet and 
so were my arms. What the fuck happened? There were a few more raps on my door. Glancing at the
clock, I no- 
ticed it was nearly eight in the morning. 
“Just a moment, please. I’ll be right there.” 
It was way too early for someone to be bothering me on a Sunday. I opened the door to find a man in
his 
mid-twenties with shoulder length blonde hair holding a large vase filled with red and white roses. 
“Holliday Prescott?” he asked. 
“Yes, that’s me.” 
“These are for you,” he said, shoving the glass into my hands. 
“Thank you,” I said and shut the door. I already knew who they were from. I didn’t bother to read the
card 
attached. 
Fucking typical. 
Setting the vase down on the glass table I looked outside. Central Park was covered in a pristine white 
blanket, but the streets were pretty clear. The salt trucks had been busy. Still, there were very few cars
out and 
hardly anyone walking around, but then again it was early. Maybe everyone just wanted to be cozy in
bed this 
cold winter morning. I flipped on the news, which was reporting three inches of snow in some areas of
the city. 
More snow was on its way tonight. Nice. I love snow. 
My mind began to wander, images of Ronan and I together flashed through my thoughts. I smiled,
recall- 
ing our dinner together last night— I loved the way he looked at me. His masculine clean scent was
invigo- 
rating. Most of all, I loved the way he touched me. All of the muscles in my pussy just clenched, and I
had a 
familiar hum in the lower part of my belly. Crossing my arms against my bare skin, I realized I was
burning up. 
My mind raced. I imagined Ronan and I fucking everywhere in his penthouse. Oh the filthy things we
were 
doing to one another. The memories from the dream were so clear— my hands twisting in his hair while
his 
hands gripped my shoulders as he licked and sucked my breasts. I envisioned my mouth on his perfect
lips, 
only coming apart for seconds to breathe the hot air that filled the space between us. I looked at the
bed dazed; 
shock flooded through me. Out damn thoughts— GET OUT OF MY HEAD! Holy fuck, I’d had a goddamn
sex 
dream about Ronan, and it had felt so real. 
Staring out the window I tried to calm my scandalous thoughts. Anything to pull my mind from thinking 
about him. I thought about spending a quiet Sunday alone reading a book or perhaps hitting the spa to
relax. I 
didn’t have to be back at Charlotte’s until after work on Monday. 
The roses were pissing me off, looking so beautiful with their long stems taunting me. They were staring
at 
me, begging me to open the card. Even though I was positive I already knew what it would say: I’M
SORRY. 
Since I was already up and the roses caused my pumped up energy to return, I went for a quick workout
in the 
gym. Thirty minutes on the treadmill and some circuit training would be just the thing I needed to ease
my an- 
noyed state of mind. 
Revitalized after my workout, I stopped off at the café on my way back and grabbed some oatmeal and
a 
black coffee. I was ready for a shower; I could tell my muscles were going to hurt tomorrow. Peering
through 
the window I witnessed the streets of New York were once again filled with hustle and bustle. Not even
snow 
and frigid temperatures could keep New Yorkers indoors. 
“Holliday! Holliday!” 
I glanced to find Leah and Jade running towards me. Jade clutched my right arm tightly and Leah
hugged 
my other arm. 
“Hi girls,” I replied cheerfully. “What are you doing up so early?” 
“Daddy is taking us to breakfast,” Leah said while Jade giggled and pushed on my chair. 
Just then I felt a shadow of a man standing over me. I glanced up through my long lashes and saw
Ronan 
looking completely irresistible. Only a Hollywood movie star could look this camera ready on a Sunday
morn- 
ing. He was dressed in a charcoal grey Henley, which perfectly showcased his flat stomach and glorious
mus- 
cles. It was paired with dark denim jeans that hugged the shape of his strong thighs and tight ass. I
wanted to 
rip his clothes from his body and roam every inch of him with my hands. Oh the things I’d do to this
man. Fuck 
him for being so damn hot. 
“Oh that’s lovely. What are you going to order?” 
“I’m getting hot cakes and Leah’s going to have a cinnamon roll,” Jade said as she twirled my ponytail
with 
her fingers. Leah climbed into the chair beside me, making herself quite comfortable. 
“That sounds delicious.” Smiling I took a final sip of my coffee. “Well you have fun at breakfast.” 
“Holliday you should have breakfast with us. Please, please, please,” Leah said loudly while shaking my 
arm. 
Jade rocked back and forth on her heels, holding on to the armrest of my chair and saying, “Yeah!
Holliday, 
come to breakfast with us.” 
Ronan gave me a sweet half-smile. His eyes were bluer today, looking somber and not nearly as bright
as 
they had last night. He seemed pretty tired. 
“Girls, I can’t. I’m sorry. I just ate my breakfast. See,” I said as I pointed to my coffee and empty bowl. 
Jade huffed and folded her arms in displeasure while Leah slumped down in the chair. They both looked
at 
me sadly. I felt like I had broken their little hearts. I quickly changed the subject in hopes to brighten
their spir- 
its. 
“What plans do you girls have today?” I asked excitedly with a big smile. 
Leah shot right up and said, “We’re going to see the big Christmas tree and the ice skating rink.” 
Of course. I remembered that was Ronan’s reason for bringing them to the city— Rockefeller Plaza. 
“Can you come see the tree with us, Holliday? Please oh please say you can,” Leah asked so sweetly. 
Crap. I already turned them down for breakfast. How could I say no to this request? I glanced at Ronan 
who I caught grinning and then raising an eyebrow, waiting for my response. 
“Okay. I will be happy to go with you to see the big Christmas tree,” I said, smiling outwardly but with 
reluctance on the inside. I looked at Ronan and asked firmly, “When are you leaving?” 
“Does eleven o’clock work for you?” he asked softly. 
“Yes.” I felt my heart begin to beat rapidly. “I’ll meet you over there by the fireplace.” 
“Dress warmly, Holliday. It’s cold outside.” His posture shifted to a more relaxed state, and I noticed his 
eyes were a bit brighter. Was I actually having some kind of effect on Ronan? 
The waitress at the café came over and asked if they were ready for their table, and Ronan said yes. He 
asked if she could take the girls to the table, saying he would be right there. I started to walk away when
he gen- 
tly touched my arm. Again, electricity twirled up my spine and back down. I was standing so close to him
that I 
could feel the heat radiating off his skin. 
“Holliday a moment, please?” 
I nodded, speaking tightly, “What can I do for you Mr. Connolly?” 
It felt like minutes before he spoke. He stood there looking at me, gripping my arm as if he was unable
to 
formulate the words. I needed anything to ease this obvious fiery tension between us. I considered
pressing my 
body against his and letting him know it was okay for him to kiss me and all would be forgiven. 
“Ronan, please,” he said and then cleared his throat. “Did you get the flowers I sent?” 
“Oh, those were from you?” 
He pulled back slightly, letting go of the grip he had on my arm. “I asked them to attach a card.” He 
shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. 
“I know. I didn’t read it.” 
Ronan took a step closer to me, whispering in my ear, “Read the card, Holliday.” When he leaned into
me, 
I closed my eyes and felt my heart leap into my throat. I felt his warm minty breath on my ear. Ronan
walked 
away, and I let out a deep sigh. I watched him all the way until he took a seat with his daughters. They
looked so 
happy. Maybe he was a good guy after all. It was quite clear he was a terrific dad. 
The card Ronan sent with the flowers didn’t say what I’d expected. It simply said: SOME PEOPLE COME 
IN YOUR LIFE AS BLESSINGS, AND OTHERS COME IN YOUR LIFE AS LESSONS. 
An Irish proverb I assumed. 
I flipped it over to find he had written: YOU ARE BOTH FOR ME. 
Just when I thought I had Ronan Connolly all figured out, he managed to surprise me. 
  
I walked across the lobby, double checking my outfit in the mirror as I waited for Ronan and the girls. I’d 
layered up with a navy blue sweater and a long sleeve cotton t-shirt paired with red denim jeans. I was
wearing 
my favorite grey All Saints cashmere beanie, which I pulled down slightly over my bangs, and then I
fluffed my 
loose curls that wrapped around my shoulders. I was ready to brace an afternoon outside in the frosty
air. 
I saw the girls running towards me, and I smiled. Ruth and Dean were both following Ronan. 
“The car should be around any moment Mr. Connolly,” Dean announced. 
Ruth helped the girls with their jackets, and Ronan officially introduced the two of us. She was pleasant 
enough and looked much better than she had yesterday. A large silver Infiniti SUV pulled up to the curb
and 
Ronan led us out the door. 
We travelled through the somewhat snowy streets with ease. Dean was an excellent navigator of
Manhattan 
traffic. The girls could hardly wait to get out once the tree came into view. I hadn’t been to Rockefeller
Center 
since I first moved to the city two years ago. I usually avoided the typical tourist places in the city,
preferring the 
cozy coffee shops and posh eateries of my neighborhood. 
Ronan bought all of us hot chocolate and we watched the ice skaters pass by, some learning how to
skate 
for the first time, others trying to impress by doing tricks and skating around the rink at high rates of
speed. 
Ruth took the girls to get a closer look at the skaters. I started to walk with them, but Ronan gripped my 
arm holding me back. Dean was in eyesight of all of us, carefully scanning the crowd from behind his
black 
Ray-Bans. No one seemed to have recognized Ronan yet, but he was bundled up wearing a knit hat and
dark 
Aviator sunglasses. Clever disguise. 
“Did you read the card?” 
“Yes. It was quite lovely.” 
“Holliday, I wasn’t trying to offend you last night. It’s just… I just… romance is hard. I usually don’t have
to 
work so hard to get women to sleep with me.” 
I shot him a serious look. “I’m sure a handsome movie star such as you has no problem coming in con- 
tact with ready and willing women, all of whom are eager to flop on their backs with their legs spread
open.” 
His mouth dropped open. “That’s only partly true,” he chuckled. “What I mean is that I’m out of
practice 
when it comes to romance and courting a woman. I’m insanely attracted to you. There’s something
about you, 
Holliday Prescott. I guess I just lost my head and my manners.” 
“Are you saying that I should take pity on you because you live in Hollyweird and it’s not really
conducive 
to the real world?” 
“Maybe a little,” he smirked. “At least give me a second chance to prove to you that I’m not just looking
for 
a piece of ass. I am quite fond of yours, though.” 
“I’ll consider it,” I said, nudging his arm playfully. “I’m not looking for someone to court me Ronan. I’m
all 
for casual sex, but I refuse to be one night stand— I don’t do one night stands.” 
“Well, that’s a start, because I don’t date.” The words poured smoothly from his lips. I studied those
lips. 
God I want to seal my mouth around his delicious lips. 
I had to admit it was refreshing to have a man be direct with me. Ronan didn’t make a contrived excuse.
At 
least he admitted he acted poorly but still made it clear he was attracted to me. I was feeling a deep
attraction to 
him as we continued our conversation. Ronan charmed me, and we both laughed a lot over the course
of the 
afternoon. Across the way I noticed some photographers taking photos of the people on the ice. I
worried it was 
only a matter of time before someone recognized Ronan and swarmed us. I felt my cell phone vibrating,
and as 
I pulled it from my pocket, I noticed my sister was calling. 
“Hey Charlotte. What’s up?” 
“Hey. You doing okay? How are things at the hotel?” 
My sister was especially chipper today. I heard my niece and nephew in the background singing a
garbled 
version of “Jingle Bells” at the top of their lungs. 
“Things at the hotel are fine… just like they are every other time I stay at The York,” I replied. “What are
you 
doing today?” 
“Well the twins and I are making cookies and Lucan is doing some work in the study. Later we’re taking 
them to see a movie.” 
“Oh, that sounds nice,” I said while looking back at Ronan, who was talking with one of the other
onlook- 
ers. I gathered this person had no idea he was talking to a movie star, then again maybe he did. I was
snapped 
out of my admiring gaze on Ronan when my sister asked me, “So are you going to tell me why there’s a
photo 
of you and Ronan Connolly on Tinsel And HollyWood dot com?” 
Tinsel And HollyWood dot com was run by two women who called themselves Tinsel and Holly, but
really 
their real names were Nina Whitehall and Taryn Dennison. Taryn, a former magazine editor, and Nina, a
publi- 
cist, founded the website about seven years ago. It’s easily the most popular celebrity gossip site. I had
actually 
found some things on it the other day during my search for information on Ronan. 
“What are you talking about?” 
“There’s a picture of you chatting with Ronan Connolly in the lobby of The York Hotel. It’s been up since 
late last night.” 
I walked farther away from Ronan. “It’s no big deal. I was… I was just giving him directions,” I said
quickly, 
trying to avoid a lengthy conversation with Charlotte. 
“Oh yeah? Then why wasn’t he wearing a coat?” 
Dammit! I should have known better than to try and pull one over on Charlotte. My sister had a keen
eye 
for details, but then again she more than likely had studied the pictures at length, making note of
everything. 
Charlotte probably could even determine the time of day it was taken among other things, just another
one of 
her many talents. Charlotte could have been a spy or something in another life, but in this one she was a
former 
fashion model turned designer. 
“Charlotte, he stopped me and asked which way to the… oh never mind. It was a brief conversation. He 
complimented my sweater. I was wearing one of your designs.” 
That should divert her attention and give her something to think about rather than asking me a ton of 
questions. 
“Yes, I noticed that, and flattery won’t get you out of this conversation, sis.” 
Damn! I was hoping she’d drop the inquisition about Ronan. 
“So, is he nice? Is he as dreamy in person as he is on screen?” 
“Charlotte, I… I have to go… I’m going to work out.” 
“Wait, Holl.” 
I ended the call and quickly pulled up the website on my phone. I gawked at the photos of Ronan and
me. 
The headline read: RONAN’S RANDOM RUN IN WITH MYSTERY GIRL. There were tons of comments
saying 
things like: 
WHAT A LUCKY GIRL. 
WHY HER? SHE’S UGLY, PICK ME INSTEAD. 
RONAN CONNOLLY IS DREAMY. 
“Everything okay Holliday?” Ronan asked. 
I shoved my phone in the pocket of my coat quickly, replying, “Yeah, that was my sister. She was just 
checking in.” 
The girls came running towards us and Jade jumped into Ronan’s arms. She went on and on about the 
lights and the skaters on the ice. Leah grabbed my hand, pulling me towards the ice rink. I debated on
whether 
or not to say anything to Ronan about the pictures. I would bet a million dollars that he already knows.
I’m sure 
his PR team informed him. I suddenly became fascinated by the inner workings of the world of
Hollyweird. 
“We can’t stay too much longer girls. I’ve got to get you to the airport soon.” 
The girls both wailed. Jade threw her arms around Ronan’s neck and said, “I love you, Daddy. I don’t
want 
to go.” He kissed her sweetly on the forehead and whispered something in her ear that made her giggle.
He 
placed her carefully back to her feet and she bounced over to Ruth and Leah, taking in a final glimpse of
the 
plaza. 
“The airport? Oh are you guys leaving today?” I inquired and then realized I sounded like I was
interested. 
“Yes, Ruth and the girls fly back to California tonight.” 
“And where do you go tonight?” I whispered in his ear. 
“Hopefully, if my Irish luck is any good, I’ll be having dinner with you, Holliday,” he whispered back. 
“Maybe I’m busy tonight,” I interjected coyly. “Some of us have to work tomorrow.” 
“I have to work tomorrow. I’m going to be on the John Phelps show in the morning talking about my
char- 
ity gala Wednesday evening.” 
“Charity gala, huh?” I raised an eyebrow at him. 
“What, you mean you’ve not heard of the Connolly Campaign?” he teased. 
In all my reading and research about Ronan Connolly I’d neglected an important part of his life. He was
so 
much more than a good-looking actor, sometimes fashion model and father. He was also a
philanthropist. 
“Yes, I’ve heard about the work you’re doing in Africa,” I replied shyly. “It’s absolutely amazing.” 
“Thank you. We’re working on a clean water fund along with aiding in medical supplies. Maybe you’ll
join 
me at the event? I’m sure I can get you a seat. I have connections.” 
“Maybe I will,” I said, giving him a sly half-smile. 
  
Ronan walked me back to my room after I said good-bye to Leah and Jade. They were so sad to be
leaving 
and begged me to come to California with them. Ronan told them not to worry and that they would be
seeing 
me again. Presumptuous of him to say. 
I pressed the keycard into the lock and opened the door. As I turned back to say goodbye to Ronan he 
lunged towards me. His hands were instantly on the sides of my face, and then his mouth covered mine.
I 
found myself completely and passionately drawn to him without any reservations. My arms went limp,
causing 
me to release the grip I’d had on the door. Ronan somehow stopped it from knocking into us as he
pushed me 
back into the room, his lips never leaving mine. As Ronan’s hands left my face and wrapped around my
waist 
my hands found their way to his neck, and I began threading my fingers through the longer pieces of his
lus- 
cious brown locks. 
My back bumped against the wall in the corridor, which stopped me from walking any farther into the 
room. His hands moved from my body, pinning me against the wall, his arms above my shoulders and
palms 
flat against the surface. Ronan had entrapped me like I was his prey. I was a caged animal, and he wasn’t
going 
to let me go until he’d satisfied the lustful appetite he had for me. A shiver moved through my entire
body as 
his tongue found mine, and he gently licked my mouth with long and slow strides. I was overcome with
warmth 
and an incredible ache between my legs, probably because I was still wearing all of my outerwear—
coat, hat, 
scarf. Well at least that would explain the heat, but the eager physical desire I had to happily let this
irresistible 
man violate me six ways to Sunday was another feeling altogether. 
I pulled back breathless and he grinned at me wickedly, gently brushing his tongue over his bottom lip. 
God, he smelled good. His eyes flared with heat. Ronan forcefully yanked my coat back, pushing it over
my 
shoulders and down my arms. I could feel my breasts swell. My scarf was the next thing to be freed from
my 
body. Wrapping one arm around my waist and cupping my chin in his other hand, he stroked my cheek
with his 
thumb, moving his soft firm lips to mine, letting out a soft growl into my mouth. That was hot as hell. 
“Holliday, you have no idea how many times I’ve wondered what it would be like to kiss you. You’ve
been 
damn near the only thing on my mind for what seems like days,” he said while gently caressing my cheek
with 
his long fingers. Ronan skimmed each one over my lips carefully as I scanned his beautiful face, studying
every 
line and angle. My breathing escalated— all I could hear was the thundering of my heartbeat in my
ears. 
“I’ve been having wickedly inappropriate thoughts about you, Holliday.” 
Yeah, I know the feeling. 
Reaching for the back of my head, Ronan roughly pulled on a handful of my long hair. I didn’t care. I
want- 
ed him to suck on my bottom lip, my neck and all the way down my jaw. With that thought, everything
suddenly 
became blurred, flashing somewhere between wild and hot. Returning his lips to mine, I let out a soft
moan. 
His tongue dipped back inside my mouth, carefully rolling against my own. 
I pressed my body to his, feeling every inch of his hard sculpted frame. The heat radiating between us
was 
scorching. I ran my hand under his shirt, feeling his warm smooth flesh and the dusting of hair just above
his 
waistband. Sliding his hand down my waist to the curve of my hip he gripped me tightly while flexing his
fin- 
gers. I felt as if I was going to lose my mind and come unhinged at any moment. Ronan pushed my legs
open 
with his knee, and I willingly let him. He cupped my sex over my jeans with his hand. “God… Jesus… I
want you 
so bad Holliday. You’re driving me mad,” he hissed. 
Every single fiber of my being was throbbing with carnal lust for this man. I felt like I was starving for his 
body. I wanted nothing more than for Ronan Connolly to scoop me up, toss me on the bed and fuck me
into a 
pleasure coma, satisfying my sexual desire. 
“Are you on the pill, Holliday?” he inquired, his eyes narrowing. 
My voice was strangled. “Yes, I’m on the pill,” I managed to say. “I’m clean too, Ronan. In case you’re 
wondering.” 
He hissed lightly in my ear. “Me too.” I tilted my lips to his, kissing him deeply. My hands continued to 
roam his body. As I moved my mouth to his neck he let out a deep moan that sent tingling vibrations
across 
my lips. I had never been so wet in my entire life. 
He pulled my face to meet his; his eyes locked on mine. As if he knew the power his gaze was having on 
me, he grinned. 
Look away Holliday… Look the fuck away from him. 
Without hesitation, he leaned in, opened his mouth on my neck, and pressed his teeth into me. 
“I have… I have to go,” he whispered in my ear, while threading his fingers through the loose ends of my 
hair. 
“I know,” I replied softly. 
“Dinner,” he said while nipping the curve of my jaw. “Have dinner with me tonight, Holliday.” Lifting his 
head Ronan returned his gaze to mine. 
“I think we… we need to wait on that, Ronan,” I said. He nuzzled my cheek with his nose and then ran
his 
lips down my cheek to my chin. “You’ve had your hands full with the girls. You should rest for your
interview 
tomorrow,” I said as my heart pounded wildly in my chest. I was sure he could hear it. I was trying to
calm my- 
self, but Ronan still had his other hand shoved between my legs, caressing my thigh and rubbing my clit
with 
his thumb, teasing me with every tight circular stroke. 
“No… I don’t need to rest… I want you. I need you,” he groaned. 
God, I wanted him too. “Ronan, if you… if you… don’t stop touching me, I’m going to come.” 
“Good,” he whispered darkly, pressing the hard length of him into my inner-thigh. “I want to see your
face 
as I make you come” 
Oh shit. 
The hiss of metal pricked my ears as Ronan’s hand found my zipper. I tried not to moan, but his tongue 
swirled against my own and I couldn’t contain the sounds escaping my lips. Keeping his lips on mine, he 
pushed my jeans down a bit sliding his hand over my damp panties. 
My breath caught in my throat as he slipped a finger into my pussy. “You’re so wet, Holliday. I love it.”
His 
long fingers began moving slowly in and out of me. I heard him suck in a deep breath as my fingernails
dug 
into his forearm. 
“Ronan…” I moaned. “Ronan…” I felt his cock pressed against my thigh. 
I arched my back slightly when he began stroking my clit with his thumb. 
“That’s it,” he whispered rocking his palm against me adding a second finger. With this, Ronan stretched 
me to the brink of pure fucking bliss. I moved my hips, drawing his fingers in deeper. If he moved his grip
from 
me I thought my knees might give way and I’d crumble to the floor drunk from his hypnotic spell. 
Hitting my sweet spot with a few more pumps of his fingers sent me spiraling over. 
“Yessssssss!” My head fell forward into his shoulder. 
“That’s right sweetheart, that’s a preview of what I want to do to you over and over. What I will do to
you 
multiple times. You’ll want to scream my name as I make you come again and again until you are so
spent and 
sore you can barely walk. I’m going to fuck you, Holliday, and you are going to love it.” 

Chapter Four
Jesus. Ronan Connolly just gave me the most fantastic orgasm. 
 
 
Monday morning started with a thirty minute yoga session followed by a fifteen minute steam in the
sauna. 
I checked out of The York and headed uptown to Charlotte’s design showroom. The air was cool and
crisp, but 
the sun was shining warmly. I stopped off at Starbucks on the corner just a block from The York for a
bagel and 
a delicious peppermint mocha. A black Mercedes pulled up to the curb as I exited the building and
Ronan 
stepped out. Christ, he was good-looking. 
I didn’t have dinner with Ronan Sunday evening, not that I didn’t think about him every single second
after 
he left my room. Instead, I took a shower— a cold one and watched TV. Determined to get a good
night’s rest, I 
turned in early, knowing Mondays were always busy. Ronan called me on the phone just before nine
that night 
and we talked for about an hour. I felt like I was in high school again, giggling like a nerd and talking to a
boy on 
the phone. 
“Good Morning, Holliday,” Ronan said, sliding his black Ray-Bans off his nose. 
“Hello Ronan.” 
“Can I give you a lift to work?” 
“I’d like that, thank you,” I said. He took my suitcase from my hands and placed it in the trunk of the car.
I 
found myself staring at the curve of his tight mouth which reminded me of our hot and heavy kissing
session 
yesterday. Ronan’s smile was firm, but his lips were soft and the lightest shade of pink. His bottom lip
was 
fuller than his top one, a little less than twice the size, which made him totally kissable. His nose was
perfectly 
symmetrical, and his eyebrows were thick but not too thick and exceptionally tamed. I’d never seen a
more 
impeccably sculpted face in all my life. 
He cannot be real. 
Suddenly photographers and paparazzi surrounded us, shouting Ronan’s name. With pictures of us
stand- 
ing in the lobby of The York already on TinselAndHollyWood.com, I can’t say I’m surprised they found
him. 
Ronan gently ushered me into the backseat and shut the door. I could still hear the paparazzi shouting at
him. 
Smoothly, Ronan gave a polite nod, signaling to the mass of photographers that they had his attention. It
was a 
rapid fire of comments and questions, one right after the other: 
“RONAN, WHO’S THE GIRL?” 
“RONAN, TELL US ABOUT YOUR LADY FRIEND.” 
“SHE’S A BEAUTY RONAN!” 
“A PRETTY YOUNG THING.” 
“COME ON RONAN, WHO’S YOUR MYSTERY LADY?” 
Avoiding the questions entirely, Ronan redirected the conversation seamlessly, saying only good
morning 
and hello to a few of the photographers, calling them by their names and asking about their wives,
girlfriends or 
families. He was quite charming and I could tell he had a good reputation with the media. Ronan stood
with the 
paparazzi for about two minutes, allowing them to take photographs. He even signed autographs for a
few fans 
that happened to walk by before he politely thanked the media and waved goodbye. 
He casually slid in the backseat with me and clutched my thigh, running his fingers up the inside and 
under my skirt. Luckily I was wearing black opaque tights— otherwise, the only thing separating Ronan’s
long 
fingers from my body would be a pair of black lace panties. I playfully shoved his hand away, mouthing
to him, 
“Stop it.” 
Dressed in a three piece charcoal grey suit with a white collared shirt, Ronan looked positively gorgeous.
It 
was difficult to be in such close proximity to him— his scent was so male, utterly masculine. He sipped
his 
coffee slowly, blowing the steam away with his firm luscious lips. Again my mind was remembering what
it was 
like kissing him with all that passion and lust. I bit my lower lip just thinking about his tongue swirling
with 
mine and how amazing I felt when he kissed me. 
“They’re right you know?” he said coolly. 
“Oh?” I questioned, cocking my head to one side. “Right about what exactly?” 
“You are a beauty. I’m having a hard time sitting near you.” Leaning closer to me he whispered, “I want
so 
badly to taste you, Holliday.” 
Oh my. Good to know we’re both feeling the same explosive sexual energy. 
Feeling my stomach begin to warm with heat, I pulled down the hem of my oxblood colored skirt from 
where Ronan had pushed it up. We pulled up to Charlotte’s studio, and Ronan helped with my suitcases.
I real- 
ized I hadn’t told him where I was going. How did he know? 
“Holliday, have lunch with me today? Please,” he begged. 
“I can’t today, Ronan. Monday’s are always brutal.” 
“Dinner then? Please, Holliday?” 
I loved hearing him beg to spend time with me. I loved it even more when he purred my name. It was
like 
pure vocal sex. I decided to throw him a bone and accepted his dinner invite. 
“Splendid, I will call you later, my beauty,” he said and then kissed me on the cheek. 
“But you don’t have my number.” 
“I have my ways, Holliday,” he said, climbing back into the Mercedes and giving me a wave as they
pulled 
away. 
I turned and saw my sister wide-eyed and curious looking down from her third floor office. I entered the 
building begrudgingly, mentally preparing for the onslaught of questions Charlotte would be asking me.
She 
spent the first twenty minutes grilling me about Ronan and the next twenty advising me on the many
reasons I 
should date him and the few reasons I shouldn’t. 
“Dating a movie star could be very good for you, sis. Just be careful with that one.” 
Confused a little by her warning, I rolled my eyes. She was just being overprotective again. 
“Charlotte, Ronan Connolly doesn’t date. He doesn’t need too.” 
“Oh my God, did you sleep with him already?” 
I shot her an annoyed look, sharply replying, “Yes as a matter of fact, I fucked his brains out in the car
on 
the way here.” 
Charlotte picked up on my sarcastic tone. She gave me a suspicious look and then walked back to her
of- 
fice. I pulled up my Tune In app, clicking on the John Phelps Show. Ronan’s sexy Irish accent came
pouring 
through my headphones. Pressing my forehead to my desk I let out a deep sigh. With Ronan Connolly on
my 
mind, how was I going to manage to get any work done today? 
  
After work, I found myself sitting in a corner booth at O’Brien’s Irish Pub. I was out with a movie star,
but 
we were in a local New York hangout, not a five-star restaurant. Ronan Connolly continued to surprise
me. 
Ronan had managed to secure the entire second floor just for us. The décor was traditional of what
you’d find 
in a cozy Irish place. Dark wood floors spanned from wall to wall. Heavy wooden beams crossed the
ceiling, 
and old wooden doors with rounded tops made me feel as if I’d been hurled back in time to the horse
and car- 
riage days. Framed Guinness and Jameson whiskey brand posters lined the walls. Irish proverbs and
traditional 
Gaelic sayings on wooden plaques sat on tabletops. The daily beer specials were written in chalk on the
board 
above the bar itself. Beautiful wrought iron sconces and ornate lanterns hung on the walls, keeping the
atmos- 
phere warm with low lighting. The sounds of popular Irish bands like U2 and The Corrs took turns with
old 
Gaelic tunes on the sound system. 
“What’s on your mind, my beauty?” Ronan asked softly. Looking up at him I noticed the flicker of the
can- 
dlelight from our table caught a twinkle in his piercing jade eyes. Apparently he had selected my pet
name as 
being “my beauty.” Sometimes he just called me “beauty.” I didn’t mind. At least it wasn’t sweet cheeks
or hen. 
After nearly knowing this gorgeous man for over forty-eight hours I still loved hearing him call me by my
name. 
I didn’t realize how much his accent turned me on. 
“Nothing much, I was just taking in the décor and the ambiance of this place,” I said, running my finger 
over the smooth glass that held my whiskey drink. 
Ronan moved forward, placing his hand over mine. Just one touch from him was enough to make my
en- 
tire body shake with riveting jolts of pleasure. 
“Do you like this place, Holliday?” 
“Yes, it’s very charming in a rustic way.” 
“I’m thinking of buying it,” he said very matter of fact. 
My eyebrows shot up. Can movie stars just buy bars? I thought only rich entrepreneurs and billionaires
did 
that sort of thing. 
“Why would you buy this place? You don’t even live in Manhattan.” 
Ronan slid around the curve of the booth closer to me. Cupping my chin in his hand he said, “I’m consid- 
ering buying some property in the city because I have a beautiful reason to be here, regularly.” 
I couldn’t stop staring into his green eyes, the words echoing in my ears. Ronan Connolly was
considering 
a cross-country move for me. He couldn’t be serious. It was completely insane. We barely knew each
other. I 
can’t say it wasn’t flattering to hear, crazy, but flattering nonetheless. 
“Do you like the name? If I buy it maybe I’ll change it to Connolly’s.” 
“Can you just move cross-country? What about Leah and Jade?” 
“Beauty, I can do anything I want. I have full custody of the girls. I’m lenient with their mother regarding 
visitation. I surely don’t owe my ex-wife any favors,” he replied firmly. 
I sensed he did not have a friendly relationship with Emma. The cheating rumor had to be true
otherwise 
he wouldn’t have full custody. I finally mustered the courage to ask him about his divorce. 
“Ronan, can I ask what happened exactly between you and Emma?” 
He took a sip of his beer and then leaned back in the booth. I could see the pain as it flashed in his eyes. 
They became narrow and dark. I felt terrible that I had brought up an obviously painful subject. This
gorgeous 
man was hurting, and I so deeply wanted to remove the pain. 
“I suppose you’ve read the rumors about my marriage?” 
I nodded. 
“You know that she cheated on me with Dax Martin?” 
“So, it is true?” I said, clutching his hand in mine. 
Ronan nodded and said, “Emma begged me to marry her when we found out she was pregnant. I wasn’t 
ready for marriage, but she said it would be better for our child to grow up in a loving home with two
parents. 
She didn’t want Leah to be shuffled back and forth between us. Emma convinced me that a stable
environment 
was better for a child, especially since we were both sort of famous and our careers were taking off. She
said 
baby and marriage would make us tabloid superstars. I thought it was total bollocks, but I was dumb
enough to 
go along with it.” 
“Sorry Ronan, no one deserves to be cheated on. You obviously loved Emma because then you had Jade 
shortly after.” 
“Jade, oh my sweet lovely little girl. She was conceived during a drunken shag. Ever heard of an anger 
bang?” Ronan sort of chuckled when he said that to me. 
I nodded, knowing that I’ve had a few of those in my life. Then came the million dollar question. “Did
you 
ever love Emma?” 
“Not really. She was a fine thing and a lot of fun, but our relationship wasn’t very deep. It was purely
phys- 
ical.” 
Great, just what every girl wants to hear about the guy they’re into. As long as the attraction wasn’t still 
there, I was okay. I have a hard time trusting people, and I’m working on it with Dr. Goodwin. I’m getting
better, 
I think. I want to trust Ronan. 
“How did you two meet anyway?” 
“We were set up by our agents after we did a photo shoot together. We were spotted at a coffee place
in 
Beverly Hills one afternoon and pictures leaked online. The reaction to us dating ignited a firestorm. We
soon 
became tabloid darlings. Everywhere we went we were photographed, walking her dog, at the grocery
store and 
leaving restaurants. We had a ton of event obligations between the two of us. She had just landed the
Nadia’s 
Dream campaign and I was the face of London Grey. Being photographed continuously never took the
wind out 
of our relationship. It was good for our personal brands and business to be a couple.” 
Sounds to me like there wasn’t an ounce of romance involved in the relationship between the two of
them. 
I could tell that bothered Ronan a bit, speaking so matter of fact about it. His eyes were oddly cold and
his 
voice was unfeeling. Ronan never showed any emotion on his face while talking about her. 
“Thank you for sharing your personal story with me. I feel honored that you wanted to open up… to
me.” I 
smiled at Ronan, drinking in his gorgeous dark eyes and then without hesitation— I brushed a kiss over
his 
lips. 
His lips parted. His talented tongue filled my mouth, twisting with mine. His hand moved to my thigh
and 
up under my skirt. I was still wearing those tights, but that didn’t seem to be stopping Ronan from
eagerly cup- 
ping my sex right there in the pub under the soft glow of candlelight. He moved his hand back and forth,
his 
long fingers tracing over the delicate fabric that covered the most sensitive part of my body. If I didn’t
know any 
better I thought he might break through the fabric and finger fuck me right there under the table, and
I’d prob- 
ably let him. My mind was hazy. I couldn’t think about anything other than Ronan’s skillful hands being
on my 
body as his lips moved down my chin to my neck. 
“Finish,” his voice broke. “Finish your drink, Holliday,” he commanded before drinking the rest of his
beer 
and slamming the glass to the table. Ronan slid out of the booth, motioning to our server. He handed
him a 
fifty and told him to keep the change. The server smiled and said thank you. 
“Why are we leaving? We haven’t even ordered,” I said, rather confused by his abruptness. Ronan had a 
rage in his eyes. Hovering over me, he leaned down, placing one hand on the table and the other on the
top of 
the booth, again caging me like an animal. My pulse quickened. He looked me in the eyes, saying, “I’m
taking 
you to bed. I’m going to fuck you until you can’t take it anymore. I’m going to make you come until you
can’t 
breathe. I need to taste you in my mouth,” he growled. 
Fuck me. That’s some invite for sex. That wasn’t the look of rage in Ronan’s eye that was the look of
pure 
sexual appetite, and he had a craving for my body. 
We barely made it to the penthouse at The York without tearing each other’s clothes off. We made out
like 
teenagers in the backseat of the Mercedes. Hungry… starved in our lust for one another. Ronan
demanded that 
Dean drive through every yellow and red light in the city. He made me take off my tights in the car. I did
as I 
was instructed, but I didn’t let him touch me. It wasn’t for Ronan’s lack of trying, because he really tried.
He 
was in a hurry to get me into bed. 
The elevator ride was excruciating, stopping on damn near every floor only intensified the ache I had
be- 
tween my legs. Ronan couldn’t keep his hands off me. It was thrilling how much he desired my body. 
He lowered his mouth to my ear and murmured, “I cannot wait to be buried deep, deep inside you.” 
Tipping my gaze, I looked up at him, finding myself completely lost in the depths of his eyes. All I could 
manage to say was his name, as I ran my hand the length of his arm. 
We finally arrived to the top floor and he pushed open the door of the penthouse, peeling off my coat
and 
my scarf, as well as his, and dropping them all to the floor of the foyer. His eyes never left mine as he
tore my 
black lace panties from my body. I’d never wear those again, and they were my favorite pair. His jeans
came 
down and he lifted me onto the credenza. Shoving my skirt up over my hips he pushed deep into me. 
“Ahhhhh,” I sucked in a breath. 
“Holliday, are you okay? Am I hurting you? You’re tight, but really wet,” he said, grinning like the cat
that 
ate the canary. 
I nodded and replied, “No… this feels good.” 
“Fuck Holliday, you’re goddamn perfect,” he groaned. “Jesus, I’m so fucking hard.” 
All this dirty talk. No man had ever spoken to me like this while having sex. Well, there was one other
man 
who loved to talk dirty, but not nearly as explicitly as Ronan. I had to admit while it was shockingly crude
at 
first, I rather enjoyed it. 
“Holliday, I want to hear you calling out my name with searing pleasure because I’ve satisfied you.” 
“Ronan...” 
“Say my name again...” 
Ronan worked my body in ways I never knew were possible, his hips continually grinding into me, taking 
deep strokes and then short thrusts. It was like he had a pleasure formula on how to make me come. 
“Yes… yessss…” I gasped as he squeezed my ass pounding into me, over and over. 
“My name, Holliday…” 
My nails clawed his neck. “Ronan…” 
“You feel so good right now,” he whispered in my ear. 
I wanted lick his skin off, he tasted so fucking good. He made me feel so fucking good. No man had ever 
driven me to such dizzying heights. I thought I might pass out from the pure bliss of him fucking me. 
I threaded my fingers through his luscious locks, twisting the pieces between my fingers. I tried to kiss 
him again, but he pulled back saying, “I want to see your eyes when I make you come. No kissing.” 
Fucking shit, that was hot. 
His gaze on me was intense. I couldn’t look away. I felt as if I was revealing my entire soul to him in this 
moment. 
“Ronan… yes… yessssss,” I screamed as the orgasm took hold of me in a rush. 
He gripped me tighter, thrusting inside me faster, going deeper into my core. The tremors pulsating 
through my muscles were incredible. I could feel my toes curling in my heels. I had to kick them off my
body, 
as if freeing them from my feet would cause the high-voltage tremors to leave, and I would no longer
endure 
these explosive shocks. 
“That’s right my beauty, you feeling all of this? I did this to you. This is how your body will always feel 
when I’m inside you.” 
“Ronan, please… oh please stop… I can’t take it anymore. It’s all too much,” I pled in desperation. 
“Holliday, I’m not done with you just yet. You will come again for me,” he hissed. 
He continued driving inside me. I needed him to stop or I was going to shatter into a million pieces.
With 
one final thrust Ronan came inside me and let out an intense groan as his glimmering green eyes
screwed shut. 
The vibrations ripped through me like electric pulses shocking my core bringing me to climax once more.
He 
kissed my lips, not making any movement to ease out of me. We stayed entwined for what seemed like
forever. 
“Holliday,” he murmured against my lips, “I’m going to let you rest a bit, and then I’m going to fuck you 
again until you beg me to stop.” 
Jesus. Ronan Connolly just gave me the most fantastic orgasm.

Chapter Five
 
Ronan released his firm grip he had on me while lifting my limp body off of him. He held his hands 
around my waist, keeping me from crumbling to the hard tile floor. When I was able to sort of stand on
my 
own, Ronan used one hand to pull up his jeans. The other hand moved me against the wall for support
as he 
gently gripped my shoulder. Then he scooped me up and carried me to the bedroom. I was utterly
weakened— 
my entire body felt like a wobbly Jell-O mold. 
Yum, Jell-O sounds delicious right now. 
He pushed me down on to the plush feather comforter that covered the bed. I lay there feeling
completely 
satisfied enjoying the mini aftershocks going off in my body. Ronan began to take off his clothes, sliding
his 
jeans back down over his god-like body. I bet he spent hours in the gym. He was in very excellent shape.
I want- 
ed to reach up and unbutton his shirt, but I was too weak still. I couldn’t move. I had been sexually
paralyzed by 
Ronan Connolly. Removing his shirt, he exposed his sculpted shoulders and broad chest that was dusted
with 
light hair. He was all man, and in this moment, he was all mine. Oh and for the record, there were no
camera tricks 
used in the Velocity ads where the size of Ronan’s cock was concerned. 
He came towards me from the end of the bed, seducing me with every glaring glance. 
There he goes again— putting that spell on me. 
Slinking towards me his hands did all the work, caressing my legs up to my thighs. Ronan told me earlier 
he was going to let me rest. I wasn’t done resting. His thumb brushed against my pussy and over my
throbbing 
clit. My head fell back when I felt him slip two fingers inside me. 
“God, Holliday,” he rasped, “I cannot wait to have you again.” His fingers curled inside me, the heat and 
the friction driving me insane. 
Jesus. I am not going to survive Ronan Connolly. 
“Ronan… please… I need you to…” I managed to say through moans. His fingers left my body— I
groaned 
at the loss. 
“I’ll give you what you need, beauty.” 
He lifted me up gently, removing the black sweater from my slender frame, tossing it to the floor. Next
he 
freed my skirt from my body, and my head sank back into the feather pillows on the bed. 
Trailing his tongue against my bare flesh, he whispered, “Now, my beauty, what do you need from me?” 
“I need… your fingers… your tongue… inside me.” My breath caught in my throat as I tried desperately
to 
get the words out. 
Closing my eyes I gripped the white comforter tightly, as if I was holding on for dear life. Knowing what
he 
might do to me next would send me over the edge of a euphoric cliff. 
He stopped touching me. I opened my eyes wondering what was causing the delayed sensual assault to 
my body. 
“Holliday, you have two scars between your thighs and one on your hip.” 
Right the scars. Every fucking time, and I hated explaining. I wasn’t sure whether to lie or tell the truth. 
“Yes, I know. I also have one on my back and underneath my shoulder.” 
“I thought I saw the shadow of a removed tattoo on your shoulder the other night.” 
Nope, I wish it was that simple. 
Ronan ran his finger over the one on my hip, very gently asking, “What happened?” 
“I don’t want to talk about it. I just want you to fuck me again,” I said bluntly. 
“Holliday, you have marks on your body, and I’d like to know what happened and who or what put
them 
there.” His eyes pleaded with me, gazing with a warm sadness. “Talk to me, beauty.” 
This was the first time a man had insisted on knowing about the scars instead of just fucking me when I 
asked. I didn’t want Ronan to look at me with such sorrow or pity. My body stiffened. I sat up, drawing
my 
knees to my chest and clutching my arms around my body, shielding his gorgeous eyes from my ugly
scars. 
“Ronan… I’m not sure you can handle it,” I said softly. 
“Beauty, what are you talking about? I can handle it, I promise. I’m tougher than I look,” he said, giving
me 
that sexy half-smile. Moving closer, he sat next to me, pulling me in tight to his chest and wrapping the
com- 
forter around us. Ronan’s heart was beating at a slow steady rhythm. My head rose and fell with each
breath he 
drew into his perfect body. 
“Holliday, talk to me please.” 
“Okay, just remember you asked for this,” I said, feeling him kiss the top of my head. “A little over two 
years ago when I lived in California I was tortured, raped and beaten for nearly ten hours.” 
“Jesus! Holliday. What the fuck?” 
Yup! Knew that was coming. 
I continued with my tale of woe. “I know. I’ll get to that. A guy, an ex-boyfriend, we had just broken up
at a 
party a few days before… he and his three fucking asshole friends did this to me.” 
“I’m so sorry, Holliday. I… I don’t know what to say.” 
“I know. It’s okay. No one really knows what to say when I tell them what happened to me,” I said while 
stroking his chest. 
“That Thursday I’d come home early. I had taken the afternoon off to prep for a work event later that
night. 
My ex hadn’t given me back my key yet, which is how he got into my home where he and his sadistic
friends 
were waiting for me. They were eating my food and drinking all my booze when I walked in. I had
surprised 
them, but my ex, he walked around the corner and grabbed me and threw me to the couch where he
began hit- 
ting me repeatedly. He told me I was no good. He went on to say that I was a whore and needed to be
treated 
like the fuck rag I was.” 
Ronan shifted, moving around to look at me. He cupped my chin in his hand, saying, “Oh, my beauty,
you 
are anything but no good. I hope you know that.” 
I smiled at him and said, “I do Ronan. I’ve been in therapy a long time. I’m getting better and stronger all 
the time.” Threading my fingers with his, I continued. “The verbal abuse went on for hours. He and his
jerkoff 
friends just yelled at me while they got drunk and rifled through my things. They spent their time
breaking valu- 
ables, putting on my lingerie and parading around the house acting like animals. They even smashed all
my 
DVD’s and destroyed all my electronics. My house, my personal space, was a disaster zone. I screamed
and 
screamed and no one could hear me. I was beyond terrified.” 
Ronan tried to speak, but I just placed my finger to his lovely luscious lips and went on with my story.
He 
closed his eyes and drew my palm up to his mouth, gently kissing it and continuing kissing down to my
wrist, 
all the way to the inside of my elbow. My heart swelled. This beautiful man just let me go on and on
about my 
life history, even though I could see it was painful for him to hear about this ugly event which was true
life and 
not a story written on the pages of a movie script. 
“They took turns… raping me over the course of the afternoon and into the early evening.” Ronan
gripped 
me tighter as the words tumbled out of my mouth. He sighed deeply and his whole body stiffened when
he 
hear the word, “raping.” 
“I was in and out of consciousness at times. I heard them laughing at me, saw them scowling at me
while 
their beer and vodka laced lips covered my body. I cried, and the more I cried, the more they yelled. I
said no 
over and over, and the more I said no the harder they struck me with their fists. They beat me so badly
they 
broke a few of my ribs, busted my lip, and fractured my cheekbone and my nose. At one point two of
them took 
turns kicking me all the way down the hallway to the guest bathroom. Ignoring the pain in my ribs, I
reached 
out and twisted the fingers of one of my attackers. He struck out and slammed me against the wall. The
other 
one punched me in the chest, and I couldn’t catch my breath. Deciding not to fight back anymore, I
curled into 
the fetal position on the tile floor. They took nearly everything from me that day, breaking me slowly,
both emo- 
tionally and physically. I was tossed around like a rag doll and passed around between the four of them,
being 
used as nothing more than a cum dispenser for their personal gratification.” 
Anger washed over Ronan’s face and neck, turning white and then red. I could see he was trying to
contain 
his emotions. He would let out a deep sigh and ball up his fists every time he heard something
unpleasant, or 
maybe it was the vision of what was happening that made him so angry. 
“Eventually each one of them passed out from being so drunk and tired. But they woke up at different 
times, drinking more beer, sitting on my couch in the living room chastising me and staring at me with
icy 
drunken glares. When the beer ran out they started in on my wine collection. They barely drank any of
the bot- 
tles. Mostly they just opened all the bottles, inhaling the grapey flavors, taking a swig, saying how
disgusting it 
was and how only little sluts drink wine. Then they would pour it out.” 
I started to get a dry mouth. I grabbed my throat, rubbing it gently, and Ronan asked me if I wanted
water. I 
nodded, and he brought me back a bottle of San Pellegrino. 
“The beating continued into the night. Finally when they were done raping me, they joked about killing
me. 
I really thought my life was over. They propped my near lifeless body in one of my kitchen chairs, tying
me up 
and placing grey masking tape over my mouth so I couldn’t scream. My ex took out his pocket knife and
sliced 
a mark on my arm under my shoulder. You’ll see it looks like the letter “D.” He ran the knife down my
cheek, 
threatening to carve his initials into my cheek or slice my neck open from ear to ear. He didn’t,
obviously. Then 
each one of them took a lit cigarette and took turns marking my body in various places. They said they
were 
branding me as the whore that I was to them. Once they were done burning me they poured alcohol on
me. 
They mentally tortured me by clicking their lighters over and over in my ears, threatening to set me on
fire.” 
I took a deep breath and a sip of water. Ronan looked as wiped out as I felt. He had a look of disbelief
on 
his face, and I saw him shake his head more than a few times. 
“My ex’s only flaw in his twisted plan was that I was supposed to be at the event at seven that evening,
so 
when I didn’t show up by eight-thirty my co-worker and friend Brendan came to my house looking for
me. Bren- 
dan saw me tied up in the chair through my window. He ran in and saved my life. My ex bolted as soon
as 
Brendan rushed through my front door along with the two men I didn’t know. But, his friend Ron stayed
and 
tried to fight. He was no match for him physically because of his inebriated state. Brendan rushed me to
the 
hospital. Before we left my house, he had to dress me because I was indecent, wearing fragments of
torn and 
bloody clothing. I begged him to help me shower and wash the alcohol from my hair. I didn’t think about
the 
rape. I just wanted to be clean. I will never be able to thank Brendan enough. I owe him my life.” 
Blowing out a deep breath, Ronan asked, “Are these guys in jail?” 
I hung my head and tried to push back the sobs. Ronan would never understand what I was about to
share 
with him. I swallowed hard saying, “No…well yes… Ron and my ex went to jail that night, but it was
because 
they were picked up for drunk driving and drugs. I have no idea about the other two. I heard rumors
they fled to 
Mexico to live with family.” 
Confused, Ronan asked, “So what happened next?” 
“They were only in jail a few hours. Ron and my ex were given a year of community service.” 
Ronan stood up from the bed, pushing a hand through his hair and saying, “Christ! Community service
for 
rape and domestic abuse! That’s not a punishment. It does not fit the crime.” 
“That’s California law. Each case is different, Ronan.” 
“Wait. There is no way that would be the punishment.” He paused, turning away from me. “No,
Holliday. 
There’s something you’re not telling me.” He looked back at me, calmly asking, “What are you holding
back, 
Holliday?” 
I swallowed hard, muttering, “I didn’t press charges for the rape or the beating. No jail time was served
by 
my attackers for the crime.” 
“What? Why not? Holliday, that’s fucking stupid! Rape, that’s a serious crime!” 
Tears started flowing down my cheeks. Ronan dropped to his knees beside the bed. Clutching my
hands, 
he said, “Oh God. Holliday please, I’m sorry. Forgive me, I’m not yelling at you. Please stop crying. My
heart 
can’t take this, seeing you cry.” 
Releasing me from his grip, I wiped away the tears with the back of my hand and said, “I know it was 
stupid, but Ronan he threatened me. He said if I told anyone he’d hunt me down and find me.” I
stammered a 
bit and then cleared my throat. “When I got out of the hospital, he paid me a visit at my house. In that
moment 
he told me he would kill me. He said he knew of plenty of places in Death Valley to bury a body and no
one 
would ever find me.” 
Ronan had become angry. His nostrils flared as he clenched his teeth. Letting out a loud scream of frus- 
tration, he attempted to throw the San Pellegrino bottle against the wall, but all he did was wildly wave
it 
through the air. 
I went on to explain to Ronan how I told my mom to sell my house and that I wanted to live with
Charlotte 
in New York City. Actually, Charlotte ordered me to come to New York City, and I was all too happy to
leave 
California behind. I covered my face and began crying again. Once he heard my sniffling sobs he placed
the 
bottle on the nightstand, crawled into the bed and held me. He rocked me until I finally fell asleep in his
arms. 
  
When I woke up it was a little after eight. Ronan was sitting on the bed next to me in a pair of blue
pajama 
bottoms reading The Hollywood Reporter on his iPad. 
“Hey sleepyhead, how was your nap?” he inquired softly, kissing my cheek. 
“I need to get home. I have to go to work tomorrow,” I said half-dazed. 
“No beauty, you’re staying here with me tonight.” 
“Ronan, I can’t. I don’t have anything to wear. No pajamas, no clothes for tomorrow, and I don’t have
any 
of my beauty products or my toothbrush.” 
“I called your sister, Charlotte, nice gal by the way,” he said with a wink. “I persuaded her that you
would 
need a few items, and she packed you a bag. I also called my girl at Saks and had her put together some
special 
items for you. Go into the bathroom. You’ll find all of the things you need to stay the night with me, and
if you 
don’t have something let me know. I will send Dean out for it.” 
My mouth dropped open. Ronan sweetly lifted my chin, pressing my lips back together and let out a
soft 
chuckle in doing so. I slipped on a black lace silk chemise that Ronan had neatly laid out for me at the
end of 
the bed and walked into the bathroom. He had purchased all my beauty care products, including my
favorite 
peppermint lotion and shower gel. All the items that Charlotte packed for me were hanging neatly in the
closet 
along with the green Burberry dress that I’d tossed aside like garbage my first night with Ronan. I
opened the 
top drawer to find the loveliest colors of lace, silk and even cotton undies with a few matching bras. 
“Now when you stay with me you don’t have to pack a toiletries bag,” he said, grinning from ear to ear. 
“What makes you think that I would want to stay here with you, Mr. Connolly?” I teased. 
“Don’t you want to stay with me?” He frowned and gave me a pitiful although adorable pout. 
Walking back to the bed I leaned over and kissed him deeply, thrusting my tongue into his mouth. He
re- 
turned my kiss with the same forcefulness, finding my tongue over and over with sweeping gradual
grazes. I’m 
pretty sure he got the message from the kiss that I wanted to stay with him. He pulled back and stared
at me, 
those green eyes dazzling. I fisted a few of his dark locks in my hand. He must have taken a shower while
I 
slept. His hair was still damp. I climbed onto the bed, straddling my legs over his muscular thighs. He
pulled 
his knees up and I slid down onto his pelvis. Ronan wrapped his arms around my back while he ran his
tongue 
the length of my neck. Soft kisses fluttered along my jawline. 
“Ronan, I need you,” I said. He grabbed my face and pressed his lips against mine, drawing my bottom
lip 
into his mouth. Ronan began gently rubbing the scar that he’d found on my back, tracing his index finger
over it 
again and again, sending a chill up my spine. 
“My beauty, I want to take this pain away from you. I want to rid your body of this scar. I want to rid
your 
body of these scars too,” he said as he moved his hand in between my legs. 
“Ronan, even if we remove the scars physically, that night will still be in my memories.” 
“I hate that I can’t take this pain away from you.” 
“Ronan please,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. 
“I just want to help you by removing the scars.” 
“Why?” I frowned. “Is it because the scars are too painful for you to endure?” I asked. My voice was a
bit 
shaky. “Do I… do I repulse you?” 
“Oh, Christ no, Holliday, that’s not what I meant. I don’t want anyone to hurt you ever again. I won’t let 
anyone hurt you ever again.” 
Tears ran down my face. “Why do you want to protect me Ronan? You barely know me.” 
He grazed my cheek with his thumb, wiping away the tears. “I know what I feel. I know that for some
amaz- 
ing reason you’re the best thing that’s come into my life in a long time.” The smile faded from his lips
and his 
face became serious. He looked at me and said, “Tell me his name.” 
“Whose name?” I said, tracing my finger along the length of his jawline. 
“Your ex.” He paused for a moment, searching my face for a reaction, and then continued. “Holliday I 
need to know the name of the man who hurt you.” 
“No, you don’t need to know.” I shook my head. “He won’t bother me, Ronan. He hasn’t come after me
in 
two years, for all I know he’s forgotten all about me.” 
Ronan’s dark eyes narrowed as his body stiffened. He ran his hands through his hair and let out a deep 
sigh. Seeing the frustration in his expression, I could tell he needed to be calmed down. I kissed the
temples on 
his forehead gently, running the tip of my nose down the side of his cheek where his stubble tickled my
lips. He 
gripped my hips as I began to move over him, grinding my pussy up and down the length of him,
creating a 
delicious friction. Tipping my chin to his mouth, he brushed my lips with his. I covered his mouth with
mine 
and began rolling my tongue against his, kissing him— it was slow and wonderful. He trailed his fingers
under- 
neath my new lingerie, slightly brushing his thumb against my clit. I let out a low moan and Ronan pulled
back; 
his face was as white as a ghost. 
“What’s wrong Ronan?” 
“I… I… don’t want to hurt you.” 
This happens sometimes. Guys begin to think I’m a china doll, fragile, ready to crack at any moment if
they 
touch me intimately. 
“It’s okay Ronan you’re not the first man who thinks he needs to handle me with care,” I said
reassuringly. 
“I know that there is this strange theory that once a woman has been raped sex is no longer a source of
plea- 
sure. The act of sex, fucking and screwing has been replaced with a boat load of emotions— pain, fear
and sad- 
ness. Every victim’s story is different, but I need you to understand I am not sexually broken. I like sex.
Rape is 
not a form or sex, rape is a crime— it’s assault. Sex is a wonderful and amazing experience— it feels
good. As- 
sault is traumatizing.” 
“I think I understand.” 
Lucky for me, the first man I had sex with after I was raped was very kind and understanding. That rela- 
tionship, although short, did me a world of good both emotionally and physically. Maggie once told me,
“Your 
healing process is your own. You’re going to have good days and bad. Holliday, you’re allowed to trust
again. 
You’re allowed to love sex— you won’t break. If you do, the right man will help you put the pieces back
to- 
gether.” 
“Ronan, I assure you I will not break if you fuck me. Did I break earlier?” 
He shook his head and said, “Only when I made you come so hard you were weak in the knees.” A slow 
smile spread across his face. 
“Exactly.” I smirked. “Now, do it again. Fuck me Ronan Connolly. I want to scream out your name in
plea- 
sure.” 
“Okay, my beauty. Just remember you asked for it,” he said, as a wicked grin crossed his lips. 

Chapter Six

Ronan Connolly looked positively gorgeous leaning back in a wooden chair as he read the morning
paper 
in his York Hotel penthouse. His tight grey V-neck t-shirt hugged his well-trimmed upper body in all the
right 
places. I watched him for a few moments in silence, drinking in the sight of him as he sipped his coffee
and 
shuffled the paper. The early morning light poured through the sheer white curtains of the master suite
as I lay 
there smiling and staring at the insanely sexy Irishman. Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, I noticed
it was 
a little after seven a.m. For the first time in a year and a half I was going to be late to work. I had sent a
text to 
Charlotte late last night telling her I’d be in the office at ten. She was fine with it, probably because she
knew I’d 
spill all the dirty details of my sex-filled night with the dashing movie star as soon as I got to work. I tried
to qui- 
etly sit up in the bed, but the sounds of my legs stirring under the covers attracted Ronan’s attention. 
“Good morning, beauty,” he greeted me while folding the paper in half. 
“Good morning,” I replied cheerfully. 
“Did you sleep well?” 
Stretching my arms up over my head, I nodded. I loved the way he called me beauty. The only other
person 
who had ever given me a nickname was my father, Jay, who called me Grace. I was terribly clumsy and
awkward 
before I hit puberty. Lean and lanky, I was all long limbs with knobby knees coupled with a hideous
unibrow 
and overbite. Thank God for waxing and braces correcting my beauty ailments. Roller-skating and
swimming 
helped me to overcome my uncoordinated demeanor. I sometimes felt like I was an ugly duckling
surrounded 
by nothing but gorgeous swans. 
Once I turned fourteen, it was like I became a different person overnight. I began to develop my breasts 
and natural curves. By the time I was sixteen, well, let’s just say my step-father Perry nearly had a stroke
every 
night when I left to go on a date with a guy. I would have thought he’d had plenty of practice with
Charlotte, but 
I guess it’s never easy letting your daughters walk out of the house with good-looking hormone driven
teenage 
boys. 
Charlotte has always been worshiped by men. To me she was the most beautiful feminine creature.
Slen- 
der and tall with golden blonde hair, like the warm California sun, and sapphire blue eyes that were both
myste- 
rious and sad. Only our mother, Helen, and I could see the sadness in her soul. I suppose we all had that
same 
sadness in us. Even though we all looked completely different physically, with good reason since
Charlotte and 
I were both adopted, we couldn’t have been more like-minded for any three people who didn’t possess
the 
same DNA. 
My mother, she’s equally as beautiful with shoulder length, raven hair that never seems to lose its
luster, 
become frizzy or turn grey. She has perfect pink lips, long legs, and big brown eyes that warmed any
man’s 
heart, causing them to trip over themselves to be in her company. And you’d never ever catch Helen
Elizabeth 
Prescott Chambers dead in anything other than a designer label. Even if my mother had the flu she’d still
put on 
a pair of YSL pumps. 
Helen never seemed to age either. Well, maybe that’s because she has had a few surgeries to keep her 
body in top form. She was born dirt poor in a trailer park outside Tucson, and her only mission in life was
to be 
an adored trophy wife. She was just that for a while until she found herself bored and Perry bought her
a restau- 
rant in Malibu to manage. Now she’s an adored entrepreneur, but still a trophy wife nonetheless,
because 
Helen really only makes appearances. She lets her right hand, Andrea, do most of work. My mother’s
posh five- 
star restaurant, Tradewinds, is always filled with celebrities, the extremely wealthy and tourists. The
modern 
gourmet eatery has been featured in several TV shows and movies, which is always good for business. I
sup- 
pose deep down my mother truly does have a strong will to work hard in her blood. It was her looks,
attention 
to detail, determined attitude and charm that landed her the job at a financial firm as my dad’s secretary
where 
they fell deeply in love and were married a year later. 
My parent’s marriage survived eleven years after my adoption. Charlotte and I came home from school
one 
day to find our father’s lifeless body slumped over the dining room table. Jay Christopher Prescott,
Executive at 
Windsor Bradbury Trust, dead at forty-four years of age of a heart attack. My dad couldn’t handle being
a father 
for two young girls, a doting husband and a successful financial business executive all at once. 
Charlotte and I went to the best private school in Southern California. My sister took dance and piano 
while I went to swim camp and took tennis lessons at the club with a private instructor. To keep up with
the 
Joneses, dad made several financial investments during their marriage. Unfortunately most of those
were bad 
decisions. He never told my mom that he had lost nearly all their money. She found that out after the
funeral— 
we were devastated, nearly broke and my dad was gone. Dad never told her that she couldn’t have
anything, and 
my mother never thought to ask about the status of their bank accounts or credit. 
My mother was pretty demanding as a wife. Dad did everything humanly possible to keep her suited in 
Chanel and drenched in Cartier. Hosting various charity events, attending glamorous dinner parties that
enter- 
tained clients, she kept up her duties as the prominent executive’s wife, including spending money
faster than 
my dad could replenish it. Spontaneous shopping sprees, days spent at the spa and lavish trips to Europe
and 
the Caribbean where no expense was spared were often taken, keeping my mother overjoyed. Happy
wife, 
seemingly happy life was the motto my father lived by. 
No one realized how much my father was suffering from carrying the stress of providing for his family
and 
keeping secrets, yet never having an outlet for to release his bottled up emotions and frustrations. He
turned to 
drugs and the bottle for the release, but that ultimately took its toll on his mind and body. We never
knew he 
had a problem until his toxicology report proved otherwise. Then there was the stash of pills, booze and
co- 
caine we found in the garage and the unannounced visit we received from his dealer one afternoon
trying to col- 
lect payment. My dad owed this guy nearly $3,000. That was an interesting afternoon— my mother
interviewing 
my dead father’s drug dealer while they sat sipping black coffee one Saturday in March. I guess she
charmed 
him well enough because he said he was sorry for her loss and not to worry about the payment. In fact,
he 
handed her all the cash he had on him and told her to use it to take care of those two sweet girls. 
My mother quickly fell into a deep depression after my dad died, but just as quickly, after only two
weeks 
of mourning, she snapped out of it. Men all over from Los Angeles County to Orange County and beyond
had 
stopped by to see if the widowed Helen Prescott was doing okay. Once my mother realized she was
being pur- 
sued by some of the wealthiest, well connected and successful men in Southern California she dried her
eyes 
and went to work on finding her second husband. This time around Helen Elizabeth Prescott was going
to 
marry for money not love. 
Love. I’d never been in love. I thought I was once with my first college boyfriend and maybe Shia
LaBeouf, 
but if anyone ever told me I’d be in the throes of passion with a real life movie star like Ronan, I’d have
scoffed 
at the not-in-a-million-years fantasy notion. 
“Would you like some coffee Holliday?” Ronan’s sexy throaty Irish accent grabbed my attention,
sweeping 
me back to reality. 
I shook my head and said, “No, I’d like something else first, please.” I fluttered my long lashes at him, 
cocking my head to the side, letting the covers fall to reveal a better view of my body. 
Ronan made his way towards me, taking his sweet ass time. I’m pretty sure he was doing everything in 
slow motion, driving me insane on purpose, waiting for him to touch me. He pulled his grey shirt over
his 
head, tossing it across the room where it hit the back of the couch. I felt my pulse quicken as he entered
the 
master suite through the open French doors, locking his eyes with mine. My skin began to tingle. His
intense 
smoldering gaze was burning into me like the fire of a thousand suns. My blood was swirling in the
bottom of 
my stomach. I drew up my knees to my chest, biting my lower lip as I watched him taking slow strides,
inching 
closer towards the bed. Ronan Connolly had seduced me, and I was under his sexual spell. I was drunk
with de- 
sire from his intoxicating scent, hot as hell body and charming personality. 
Finally, Ronan was on top of me and kissing me forcefully, deeply engulfing my mouth with the soft 
strength of his firm lips. When he kissed me I felt like a storm was rising beneath my skin. His pull on me
was 
magnetic, like the force the moon has on the ocean, natural and instinctual. His hands eagerly explored
my 
body as his tongue twisted feverishly with mine, and then he pulled back, caressing my tongue with long
delec- 
table strokes. I thought I might come at any second just from kissing this delicious man. Our bodies were
so in 
tune with each other, every look, touch and sound prompted a reaction. 
Ronan ran his hands over my abs and then hungrily shoved my knees apart, running his finger over my 
pulsing clit. He tugged at my nipples with his teeth through the silk fabric of my chemise, teasing me. I
gasped 
at the pain of my sensitive body. I was still sore from the marathon fuck fest we had only a few short
hours ago. 
I ran my hands over his broad shoulders and down his back, digging my nails into his firm ass. He 
growled in my mouth, and that made me giggle. My hands flew to his pajama bottoms, pulling them
quickly 
from his hips. I couldn’t seem to get them down fast enough. My body was building for him, craving for
Ronan 
to be inside me, deep inside me. Pushing his tongue further into my mouth, I took his long thick shaft in
my 
hands, working my grip slowly up and down, feeling every inch of him become hardened at my touch. 
“Ronan,” I panted breathlessly. 
Ronan slid two of his long skilled fingers inside me, working my body over with slow strokes. Completely 
turned on, I was so ready to be fucked. 
“I love how greedy you are for me, Holliday. Always wet.” 
I pulled him closer to me, sliding my tongue into his mouth, moaning in pleasure at the feel of his
fingers 
and tongue inside my body. Our kisses grew long and deep, repeatedly licking, sucking and tasting. 
“Ronan, you don’t know what you’re doing to me,” I hissed. I’d never felt so alive in my entire life. I was 
lost to everything except him. 
“You’re so… so… completely luscious.” Moaning softly, Ronan continued to stroke in between my soft
wet 
folds slowly, teasing me, making me eager for him. I moved my hips to meet each motion, my pussy
rippling 
on the brink of orgasm. 
Pulling back, Ronan quickly shifted his hips down and pushed into me. I felt every wide inch of him as he 
plunged deeper into my core, opening me up so I could bear the brunt of his thick cock. He began
fucking me 
with slow thrusts, each one more powerful than the last. 
“God, Holliday, and sweet Jesus you feel so good,” he moaned hoarsely. 
I bit my lip. I couldn’t seem to speak. My body ached for Ronan. I pulled my knees up, hoping he could 
drive deeper inside me, which I didn’t think was possible until he did. 
“That’s it my beauty, grip my cock harder. Squeeze me tight.” 
My body was building, everything was tightening, and I was so close to coming unhinged. I gripped the 
sheets so tight I thought my nails would tear the soft fabric. 
“Ronan, you feel so good inside me,” I whispered in his ear. 
“Come for me beautiful,” he commanded, his voice raw. 
“Why don’t you come for me?” I teased. 
“Oh I will. Don’t you worry about that, Holliday.” Trailing soft wet kisses across my collarbone he said, “I 
love this part of you.” 
Damn that was so hot. 
His eyes, dark and intense, were blazing into me. Ronan pressed his soft lips to mine, devouring me with 
kisses, biting my lip, teasing my tongue with his. 
“Ronan… Ronannnn,” I said his name as I felt my orgasm begin to take hold. 
“God, you’re beautiful,” he said. 
He grinded into me, rolling his hips, and I exploded while clenching my muscles around him. He called 
out my name and unleashed his climax inside me. A smile crossed his gorgeous face as he leaned down,
plac- 
ing the most deliciously wet kiss on my lips. My legs shook as the vibrations radiated through my body. 
“I’m not going to be able to walk right today, Ronan,” I said breathlessly. 
“Good, that means you’ll be thinking about me all day,” he said, falling on his back utterly exhausted
and 
throwing his arm over his forehead. 
“I’m not going to survive you Ronan Connolly. You’re a sexual force to be reckoned with.” 
“I can’t handle myself around you, Holliday,” he said through panting breaths. 
We lay there basking in the enjoyment of our heated sexual exchange, trying to regroup, bringing our 
bodies back from full glorious euphoria. 
“Join me for a shower?” 
“I’d love nothing more,” I said eagerly. 
Just when I thought I couldn’t endure Ronan’s body anymore I welcomed another set of orgasms so
pow- 
erful I thought my body would implode from his greedy need to keep fucking me. I’d never felt anything
so 
powerful, so raw and so carnal in my entire life. 
  
The snow began to fall as Ronan’s car came to a stop at the corner of where my sister’s design studio
and 
offices were located. He asked me to spend the day with him, but I told him I promised Charlotte I’d be
in 
promptly at ten. He began kissing my neck as we sat with our fingers intertwined in the back seat of the
black 
Mercedes. 
“Stay with me again tonight my beauty. Please… I have to leave New York in a few days. Please say
you’ll 
stay with me.” 
I blinked at him and my heart raced. I hadn’t even thought about the fact that Ronan doesn’t live here
in 
the same city as me, let alone the same state. I felt all the air rush out of my lungs, and I began to lose
my 
breath. Uh… oh. No no, no, no. Not in front of Ronan. Please God, not a panic attack in front of him. 
There was only blackness as my body went limp. 
  
The next thing I knew I was blinking up at Ronan Connolly holding me in his arms. Looking around I dis- 
covered I was back in Ronan’s penthouse and Dr. Goodwin was with us. 
“I gave her a mild sedative, Mr. Connolly. She should be fine. She needs to rest and drink plenty of
water. 
It was only a panic attack.” 
Only a panic attack, really? You motherfucker, I just had a fucking breakdown in front of the man I’m
fucking 
who knows nothing of my mental state. How embarrassing. 
Ronan stood, and my face fell against the pillowcase. “Thank you doctor. I’ll make sure she rests.” 
“Oh and Mr. Connolly, make sure Miss Prescott takes her Xanax. I will check in with you in a few hours
to 
see how she’s doing.” 
The bed was so soft and warm. I drifted back to sleep. I was tired, mentally exhausted. My body hurt,
and 
my legs were sore. 
  
“What the fuck did you do to her you fucking bastard!?” 
Charlotte? My sister’s voice was shaky and she was seething with rage. Charlotte had always been
overpro- 
tective of me, but that was how we’d always been, one looking out for the other. 
I sat up in the bed trying to focus, but I was kind of groggy. I saw Charlotte. She was poking her index
fin- 
ger into Ronan’s shoulder. He backed away as Dean stepped between the two of them. 
“Charlotte! Stop! Nothing happened. It wasn’t Ronan’s fault,” I yelled from the master suite as I pulled
the 
covers off, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. 
Charlotte turned to me, her mouth hanging open. She threw her hands up in the air, causing her
emerald 
green Dior bag to swing wildly back and forth. I padded towards them feeling Ronan’s gaze burning into
me. 
“Charlotte, I had a panic attack. It was brought on innocently. Ronan didn’t know that giving me the
news 
that he was leaving New York City in a few days would be such a shock to my system. He doesn’t know
my trig- 
gers.” 
Ronan whipped his head in my direction, staring at me with confusion. Charlotte’s body became more
re- 
laxed as I touched her arm. My eyes pleaded with her to retract her blazing emotional daggers from
Ronan. 
“Sis, please. You know this was not his fault.” 
“Are you absolutely sure? Because if he hurt you in any way. So help me, with God as my witness, I will
rip 
every appendage from his body starting with his fucking cock.” She huffed and glared at Ronan. Ronan’s
eyes 
widened and he crossed his arms over his chest. 
I grabbed Charlotte by the arm, dragging her into the master suite, saying, “Charlotte, I love you, but
Jesus 
Christ you cannot just accuse him, of all people, of hurting me. I barely know him. I don’t know if we
even have 
anything, but he’s famous and he has money, so watch your tongue.” 
“Well, I’m famous and I have money too, so if he wants to bring it, let him. I fucking dare him to try to
fuck 
with me,” she snapped. 
Ronan approached us slowly, his hands in the air, saying, “Ladies, I’ve never been more confused in all
my 
life. What is going on?” He tipped his gaze in my direction. “Beauty, please what is going on? Why do
you take 
Xanax?” 
I walked closer to Ronan. My sister was still seething. 
“Ronan, I’m taking Xanax because I suffer from panic attacks, sometimes nightmares and anxiety
because 
of what happened to me. I assure you, I am working on it and this sort of thing is something I am trying
to con- 
trol.” 
Ronan looked at me with such sorrow in his eyes. He clutched me in his arms, kissing my forehead,
whis- 
pering, “Your sister scares the living shit out of me, and I’d really like to keep my cock because I’m quite
fond 
of it.” 
I let out an uncontrollable set of giggles, and I could see a half-smile cross Charlotte’s lips from the
corner 
of my eye. Before I knew it all three of us were laughing and shaking our heads, realizing the humor in
the 
slightly awkward situation. 
Turning on her shiny black heel, Charlotte retreated from the bedroom. She stopped when she reached
the 
foyer, turning to face Ronan and me, saying, “Holliday, you’ve not taken a vacation the entire time
you’ve 
worked with me. Take the next few days off and enjoy this time with your new… new boyfriend and I’ll
talk to you 
soon.” She gave me wink and nodded towards Ronan. 
I rolled my eyes at her suggestion that Ronan was my boyfriend, like we were in high school. 
She exited the penthouse, leaving Ronan and I standing there and holding each other. The sound of our 
hearts beating was all I heard drumming in my ears over and over and over, slow and steady. It was the
best 
sound in the world. 

Chapter Seven
 
Racks of beautiful dresses rolled into the penthouse, and I had my pick of any one I wanted. Ronan had 
called his contact at Saks who’d sent her assistant over with three racks of red carpet gowns and black
tie de- 
signer dresses, along with bags of undergarments for each style of dress so that I could choose one for
tomor- 
row night’s charity gala. He was spoiling me, and I didn’t mind. I spent the next hour trying on
shimmering hal- 
ter dresses, strapless ball gowns and flirty party dresses. Ronan’s green eyes flared with lust at the sight
of me 
in each dress. Ultimately I selected a strapless silver, beaded column gown that had a thigh-high slit.
Ronan 
made me feel like I was a princess. I normally hated attention being doted on me. Being showered
affectionately 
with gifts was more my mother’s thing. Tomorrow Ronan would be taking me over to Tiffany’s to find
the per- 
fect jewels and then to Jimmy Choo for the right heels. He must not have forgotten my specifics when it
came 
to accessories. 
Calling from the butler’s pantry, Ronan asked, “Holliday, what would you like for dinner tonight?” 
“How about steaks, medium rare, with a side of red potatoes?” 
“That’s quite specific,” he replied smoothly while leaning against one of the columns and raking his eyes 
over me. 
Admittedly, I knew what I wanted already because I’d browsed the hotel menu and the chef’s specials
ear- 
lier when Ronan had gone to work out. He’d insisted I lie down and rest, but I hadn’t been able to power
down 
my adrenaline. 
“What can I say?” I shrugged. “I am girl who knows what she wants. What I want is red meat and
potatoes 
with a bottle of red wine.” Lifting an eyebrow, I casually added, “And sex for dessert.” 
Flashing a devious grin, he inched closer to me and I felt my knees buckle. Ronan swept me up in his
arms 
and carried me to the master suite where he playfully tossed me onto the bed. Caressing my body and
driving 
me wild with his skilled touch, Ronan brought me to the brink of orgasm and then back down, only to
build me 
up again, each riveting climax more intense than the one before. We didn’t leave the bedroom the rest
of the 
afternoon. Ronan nearly fucked me senseless. My legs were sore, my breasts ached and my pussy was
throb- 
bing. I closed my eyes and began to drift off to sleep, feeling satisfied and relaxed. My heart fluttered
when 
Ronan kissed me. 
Oh crap. What the hell is this feeling? 
  
After dinner was over, I took a shower. I walked to Ronan’s closet and sifted through his dress shirts. I 
came across the white one he’d worn under the blue suit the night he’d invited me for dinner.
Apparently he’d 
not yet had it sent out to be laundered. Carefully removing the shirt from the soft padded hanger, I
slipped it 
on, the soft fabric feeling incredible against my skin. I could smell the scent of him on the collar, crisp
and 
fresh like a mountain spring in winter with a hint of evergreen. I could be totally off, but whatever it was,
it was 
intoxicating on Ronan’s skin. I pulled on a pair of red lace boy shorts and rolled up the sleeves of Ronan’s
shirt. 
When I reappeared I found Ronan sitting in one of the chairs in the living room reading something sent 
over by messenger. I assumed it was a contract or possibly a script. The fireplace was roaring, and he
was sip- 
ping a glass of whiskey. I looked out the window, noticing the crisp white snow was still falling against
the 
blackness of the late evening winter sky. The Manhattan skyline was so magical during Christmastime,
colorful, 
romantic and full of beauty. I had to pinch my arm to make sure I wasn’t having a dream. I couldn’t
believe this 
was my life right now, holed up in a Manhattan penthouse with a gorgeous man whose only desire at
present 
was keeping me sexually satisfied. 
“Ronan, what are you reading?” 
“The latest script for my next movie,” he said very matter of fact, not looking up at me. 
Called it! 
His tone was serious— he looked deep in thought. Was I getting a glimpse of Ronan Connolly at work, 
maybe getting in character? I sat back in silence, watching him carefully as he continued reading while
running 
his index finger over his lips and furrowing his brow. I hoped Ronan wasn’t a method actor. That shit
would 
annoy me. 
He shifted and caught my gaze, parting his firm lips and giving me a seductive once over. I heard him 
swallow hard, and then he spoke, “My beauty, you look… sexy, absolutely irresistible wearing my shirt.”
He laid 
the papers on the coffee table and stood up, taking a step towards me. My heart thumped wildly in my
chest. 
Ronan’s cell rang, just as his lips grazed mine. Smiling he said, “You’re lucky, otherwise… oh what I
would 
have done to you just now,” he hummed. 
I heard him say Jade’s name, and he asked the person on the other end of the phone if she was all right. 
The conversation went on for another fifteen minutes. I could tell he was talking to the girls. 
“Okay, when I see Holliday again I will tell her you said that my love. Daddy loves you both. Big hugs and 
kisses my darling girls.” 
Even the way he talked to his daughters was adorably sexy. He walked back into the room, giving me
that 
megawatt smile and chuckling a bit. 
“Leah and Jade wanted me to tell you that they drew you more Christmas pictures. Leah said you
cannot 
open the envelope until Christmas though,” he said with a smile. 
“Aw, that is so sweet. Your girls are too adorable.” 
He went back to reading his script, and I sat there gushing, thinking about how nice it was that Leah and 
Jade were still thinking about me and wondering what gave them the impression that their dad and I
were 
“friends.” If I was dating Ronan Connolly, it was very good to know that his daughters seemed to have
affection 
towards me. 
“What’s the script about?” I said, turning on my stomach and propping my elbows under my chin. 
“What’s that you said my beauty?” He was really concentrating. I felt bad that I’d interrupted his
process. 
“Oh… sorry, I don’t want to bother you. I can see you’re deep in thought.” 
“Beauty, you can bother me anytime you want.” 
“Okay, tell me about this new movie. Are you a superhero? Oh! Are you an action star or a romantic
lead- 
ing man?” My eyes must have been wide-eyed because the biggest smile crossed Ronan’s lips, and he
said, 
“Someone enjoys cinema.” 
“Yeah, I really do love movies. Charlotte and I have attended our fair share of screenings because of our 
stepdad, Perry. He’s a studio executive with Avalon Films.” 
“Perry Chambers is your stepdad?” 
“The one and only,” I replied with a smile. 
“I haven’t had a chance to work with Avalon yet, but maybe I will someday.” He leaned closer to me,
reach- 
ing for my hand, knotting his fingers with mine. “In this film I play a photographer who captures a photo
of St. 
Patrick’s Cathedral. In the photo I notice a young beautiful woman, and I become obsessed with trying
to find 
her. My character uses the clues in the picture to try to track her down. Through the journey, each one
of the 
clues prompts my mind to fantasize about what she might be like and what she does for a living. I have a
vision 
of our first date, our wedding, our marriage and the birth of our first child. Those sequences play out
between 
us in the film all while I roam the streets of New York City trying to find her.” 
“Wow. That sounds like a beautiful story. Who’s playing the woman so I know which actress to be
insanely 
jealous of?” 
Ronan laughed and said, “Heather Young.” 
“Heather again, huh?” 
“The director wanted Skylar Barrett, but the producers are the same team from These Streets of Dublin.
They 
feel we can cash in on the same success.” 
“That makes sense. Do you want me to run lines with you?” 
Ronan arched one of his gorgeous thick eyebrows, and a devious smile crossed his lips. I didn’t know 
what he was thinking in that moment, but I was intrigued. 
“You like to role play, beautiful?” 
I let out a loud chuckle but then realized Ronan was completely serious. He moved his index finger
slowly 
across his bottom lip. The way he looked at me told me he was pondering something more than likely
wicked. 
“You mean like Dungeons and Dragons and wizardly type stuff?” I teased. 
“No, not anything as weird as that, Holliday. I was thinking of this angle— you’re a sexy librarian and I’m
a 
serious researcher. We both work late in the library one night.” Ronan moved from the chair to the
couch, sit- 
ting beside me. “We’re all alone and… and we fuck everywhere. Breaking the please be quiet rule over
and over.” 
Sweeping my hair off my neck, Ronan began to kiss me. Trailing soft kisses up my throat and then
moving to 
my mouth, he gently brushed his tongue with mine. Moving me into his lap, I felt his cock hardening
beneath 
my ass. 
“Ronan…” I whispered against his lips, “That’s quite a fantasy you’ve painted.” 
“I’m an actor. I can think of a million fantasies to play out with you,” he rasped softly while running his
lips 
down my cheek, trailing to my jawline. 
“How about we play out a scene from, A London Love Story?” I suggested, feeling confident Ronan
would 
be amused. 
Brushing his thumb against my cheek, he asked, “Oh beauty. Have you been thinking about what it’d be 
like to have sex with Cameron Carlisle?” 
“I’ve read the books, Ronan. I’m sure I’m one of many women who’ve thought about writhing around
with 
you in the sheets of your London flat, fucking you in the hayloft of your stables or screwing your brains
out in 
front of the fireplace of your country estate.” 
“You mean Cameron’s flat and country estate?” he teased. 
I stroked his face, running my index finger over his lips, saying, “Ronan for the rest of our days, you will
be 
known as Cameron Carlisle in fictional cinematic history.” 
“God, I just hope it doesn’t ruin my career.” He sighed. “A lot of people hated the books.” 
I didn’t even think about how the risky role could pigeonhole his acting career. 
“True, but way more people loved the story between Cameron and Katia. So screw the haters.” 
“I quite like the way you think.” Shifting his body, I eased off his lap. “Come back here, beauty.”
Propping 
his feet up on the coffee table, Ronan leaned back on the sofa, wrapping his arms around me. Laying my
head 
on his chest, he kissed the top of my head, twisting my loose curls through his fingers. We sat there
holding 
each other, just watching the snow fall outside. 
“It’s truly beautiful, isn’t it Ronan?” 
“Yes, very. I love New York City in the winter.” 
I brushed the pads of my red painted toes across the top of his foot. “When do you have to leave?” 
“I have to be back in Los Angeles Friday evening.” 
My chest tightened at the thought of Ronan leaving me. I had a physical pain in my stomach at the
thought 
that I wouldn’t see him every day anymore. Worse, I was beyond wrecked on the inside thinking about
how I 
might never see him again. His life was in Los Angeles and mine was here. I’d avoided Los Angeles and
the en- 
tire state of California ever since I moved here two years ago. I told myself I’d never go back as long as
my ex 
was out there. 
I knotted my fingers with his and sighed. “I think I might miss you when you leave,” I teased. 
“I know I’ll miss you,” Ronan said softly, kissing the top of my head. 
“Will you be back in New York anytime soon?” 
“My beauty, are you troubled that I won’t come back to you?” 
“I don’t know.” Yes 
“Do you want to come with me?” 
“No, I can’t go to California. I just… I just don’t think I can do it.” 
Ronan hugged me tighter. I felt him take in a deep sigh. It suddenly occurred to me that I really knew 
nothing about Ronan’s life. I knew he lived in Los Angeles. I knew he was divorced with two daughters
and that 
he was a philanthropist and of course an actor. Other than that, I’d been completely selfish and not
bothered to 
ask him a thing about his life. 
“Ronan, tell me about your life.” 
“What do you mean?” 
“I want to know what your childhood was like. When did you decide to become a model? What
prompted 
you to become an actor? Where do you parents live? Tell me something I haven’t read online in the
tabloids.” 
“Whoa, wow. Okay Holliday, I’ll tell you anything you want to know,” he said with a warm laugh. I loved 
hearing him laugh— sinfully sexy and a little throaty. 
He told me that he wanted become an actor when he got involved in modeling. Something about
creating 
the movie shorts for the campaigns intrigued him about the film industry. I learned all about his family.
His 
parents lived in London and they also spent time in his hometown of Cork, Ireland throughout the year.
His 
mom was a retired school teacher, and his dad was a London real estate developer. I guess his dad
owned 
some buildings in Manhattan as well. Ronan told me he had two sisters, one of them lived in Vancouver
with 
her family, and his younger sister lived in London where she owned a boutique. He admitted he loved
Country 
music. He tried surfing once and nearly drowned, and he let his girlfriend pierce his ear with a safety pin
when 
they were teenagers. He pointed to the scar on his ear. Ironic, we both have physical scars from past
relationships. 
When he talked about his marriage, he said he regretted marrying Emma, but would never regret
having 
Leah and Jade. Informing me that the girls were the best part of Emma, he stressed the point that the
only good 
thing she’d ever done in her life was to help create those girls. It became clearer to me that Ronan had a
bitter 
relationship with his ex, but I wondered if he was more hurt than angry. Was it possible that Ronan still
loved 
Emma? 
I was starting to feel a little jealous of Emma Bailey-Wilson. It was a ridiculous notion to be jealous. I
knew 
I had no right. 
We went to bed that night not having sex, which was weird because Ronan had spent every waking
minute 
over the last few days taking pleasure in getting me in it to fuck me. Here I lay ready and willing for this
man to 
have his way with me, and he’s as far away from me as he can be without falling out of the bed. The only
thing 
that might hurt me more was if he’d sleep on the couch or upstairs in the guest bedroom. I
contemplated going 
to the couch. It was too hard being so close to him physically and feeling that he was so far disconnected
from 
me emotionally. 
The last thing we’d talked about was his ex. I wondered if Ronan wasn’t touching me because he wished
he 
was with her instead. I started to regret my decision to ask him questions. My mind began to mist over
with un- 
pleasant thoughts, and I was filled with anxiety. I counted to ten, or at least I think I made it to ten.
Relaxed, I fi- 
nally drifted off to sleep. 
  
The next morning I was pulled from my restless sleep by feeling Ronan’s hands on my body, exploring 
each and every curve with his tongue and his fingers. My mind eased knowing the first thing he wanted
to do in 
the morning was touch me. Possess me… claim me… own me. His hands travelled up my thighs, lifting up
my 
chemise. My panties withered from my body as he pushed two of his long fingers deep into my pussy. 
“You’re so wet, Holliday. I love that you’re always ready for me,” he teased. 
“I need you Ronan. I need you inside me.” 
“Always my beauty, you’re mine.” 
I threw my head back, allowing Ronan to pleasure me, blowing my mind, repeatedly sending me over
the 
edge and then bringing me back down, only to do it all over again. I lay there panting, enjoying the
spasms radi- 
ating through my body from the multiple orgasms given to me by this beautiful man that unhinged my
core and 
weakened my knees. My body was limp, my skin damp and my brain foggy. I was going to have to work
out 
harder to endure Ronan’s sexual appetite for my body. Fucking Ronan Connolly was going to be the
death of 
me. I guess there could be worse ways to die. 

Chapter Eight
 
After dropping a small fortune at Tiffany’s and Jimmy Choo, Ronan took me to his favorite New York 
restaurant for lunch. We sat out of the way in a corner booth, and he ordered his two favorite pasta
dishes 
along with some red wine. It was so wonderful being out with Ronan, laughing and talking like we were
old 
friends. It was comfortable and easy but also really hot because he kept trying to shove his hand up my
skirt. I 
was beginning to think he had a thing for messing around in public places. 
The paparazzi were waiting for us as we exited the restaurant. Ronan shielded me from the cameras
and 
pushed me into the backseat of the Mercedes. They were shouting all kinds of things at us: 
“RONAN TELL US ABOUT YOUR MYSTERY GIRL!” 
“IS IT SERIOUS?” 
“WILL SHE BE WALKING THE RED CARPET WITH YOU AT THE EVENT TONIGHT?” 
“COME ON CONNOLLY TELL US MORE ABOUT THIS BEAUTIFUL BRUNETTE!” 
Ronan smiled and did his usual PR with the paparazzi, giving them that movie star mega-watt smile and 
signing a few autographs for fans. Sliding into the backseat next to me, he removed his sunglasses and
pinched 
the bridge of his nose. 
“Are you okay, Ronan?” 
“I just have a bit of a sinus headache. I’ll be fine.” 
“Okay,” I said softly while rubbing his arm. “I meant to tell you that there are pictures of us on Tinsel
and 
HollyWood dot com from the day we met.” 
“Oh, yes sorry about that. I tried to get Nina to take them down, but she said I owed her one since she 
didn’t publish the pictures of me and…” His voice broke and he cleared his throat. 
“You and?” I inquired sharply. 
“Me and Emma… kissing outside in front of my house last month,” he said, blowing out a deep breath. 
Oh my God! He was kissing Emma last month. I fucking knew it. 
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “You… you and Emma? I thought you detested her. I thought…” My 
throat tightened as my heart began pounding wildly. “I’m so… I’m so confused, Ronan.” 
“Holliday, please, it’s complicated with me and Emma.” 
“Fuck that! Ronan, she’s the mother of your children. She was your wife. There’s nothing complicated 
about that. That’s straightforward, unbreakable bonds, emotional shit shared forever,” I snapped. 
My head was spinning. He still loves her. I fucking just know it. 
“Ronan are you fucking me just to fuck Emma over? Or are you trying to get her out of your system
using 
my body? You better not be thinking of her when you’re fucking me!” I was practically yelling at the top
of my 
lungs. Pure anger was coming through my voice. 
Ronan looked up at Dean in the rearview mirror and then back at me, his green eyes darkening. He was 
mad but remained calm. 
“My beauty, I do not love Emma. I assure you of that.” He shot me a stern look, warning me with his ex- 
pression to lower my voice. 
“Don’t call me that. You don’t go around kissing people you don’t at least like or have affection for in 
some way.” 
My anger was boiling over. How could I be so stupid? Ronan reached for my hand and I pulled back
from 
him. I didn’t know what to think. Hot tears were streaming down my cheeks. Why the fuck was I crying
for this 
man? This sexy man had charmed me, but he was obviously still harboring unresolved feelings for his ex-
wife. 
“We need to talk, but not in the car. Can you please wait until we get back to the penthouse? I’ve
obviously 
hurt you. I’d like the chance to explain.” 
Before I could answer Ronan, his cell phone rang. He took the call. Whomever he was talking to was in- 
quiring about the guest list for the gala. The gala that I was supposed to be going to with him was in a
few 
hours. I was so mad all I wanted to do was pack my shit and head back to Charlotte’s. We pulled up to
the 
hotel, and I didn’t even bother waiting for Dean to open my door. I rushed through the revolving glass
doors of 
The York, heading straight for the bank of elevators. 
Shit! I couldn’t just go up to the penthouse. I needed a fucking keycard. The only two people that had
key- 
cards were Ronan and Dean. Seething and gritting my teeth I waited for Ronan to meet me. Dean
blocked the 
elevator so no one else climbed in with us. Then he shoved the keycard in the panel and we went sailing
up. 
Ronan and I were in such close proximity I felt like I was going to have a panic attack. That anger coupled
with 
the closed-off tiny space was driving my body to nearly lose control. In my head I started to count to ten.
I 
didn’t even get to seven before the elevator finally came to a halt and the doors opened. As soon as the
pent- 
house door flung open, I brushed past Dean, nearly slipping on the marble tile in the foyer. Ronan set
my bags 
down on the couch, and I stood there tapping my foot anxiously, waiting for some explanation. In my
head I 
was plotting my escape. 
“Holliday, please take off your coat and come sit with me.” 
I shook my head, saying, “No, thank you. I prefer to stand.” 
After he shrugged out of his charcoal Prada wool coat, Ronan poured himself a drink and motioned to
see 
if I wanted one. I nodded and he poured me a glass. 
“Holliday, please come over here and sit with me,” he said, holding up my drink by the armchair. 
I shook my head in protest. 
“Holliday, stop being so damn stubborn and get over here and sit with me,” he ordered, pointing to the 
chair. 
My mouth hung open. I was taken aback by his sharp tone with me. I was acting childishly, but he de- 
served it. I walked over and grabbed the drink from Ronan’s hand, taking a giant swig. The warm liquid
burned 
as it slid down my throat. 
“Slow, Holliday. It’s meant to be sipped not thrown back like a tequila shot,” he quipped. “Now, you
want 
to tell me what’s got you so worked up?” 
“You and the fact you just told me you were kissing your ex-wife only a month ago,” I snapped. 
“Firstly, she kissed me. Secondly, I’m not thinking of her when I’m making love to you.” 
I blinked and wiped the tears away from my face as I looked into his eyes. 
“What? Wait… making love to me? What are you saying?” 
Placing his drink on the coffee table, he approached me slowly, cupping my chin in his hands. I tried to 
move back, but I was too slow. He wrapped his arms around my waist, keeping me from running. I
struggled to 
get free, but it was no use. Ronan was seducing me with his eyes and I melted into him. I’m pathetic. 
“My beauty,” he began as I glared at him. “You can stop glaring at me anytime. I don’t love Emma.” 
I cocked my eyebrow up, suspicious of his answer. 
He looked into my eyes and repeated sternly, “I don’t.” 
I didn’t know if this was a trick. Was he trying to convince himself or me? 
“Ronan, I’m going to be honest. I have a hard time trusting people. I want to trust you, but last night the 
last thing we talked about was Emma. It felt like you were pulling away from me. It worried me that you
might 
still be carrying a torch for her, and now you tell me that you kissed her just last month. What am I
supposed to 
think?” 
“Again, she kissed me,” he said firmly, tightening the grip he had on me. “Emma set up the paparazzi,
call- 
ing them and telling them exactly where she’d be. Emma let them onto my property and they were lying
in wait 
for her to make her move. She was trying to make Dax Martin jealous. She wanted Nina to publish the
photos 
because Emma knew they’d go viral in no time. That’s the kind of person Emma is – manipulative,
always an- 
gling. For the record that is just one of the many reasons she and I are no longer married.” 
“How did you find out about Emma’s plan?” I pulled back, and he finally released the hold he had on
me. 
“One of the photographers she hired called me and told me what happened. Emma didn’t know that 
Franklin was a personal friend. She doesn’t know the relationships I have with certain photogs. I keep it
that 
way in case I ever need to call in favors. I immediately called Nina and convinced her not to publish the
pho- 
tos.” Ronan walked back to the bar, leaning against it coolly. “It cost me, and now I have to give her
something 
in return. This is how the Hollywood game is played. I assure you that if I could have I would have
stopped 
Nina from publishing your picture. I am really trying not to have your personal life disrupted. I’m sorry
that this 
happened, but this is what happens when you date a celebrity. Can you please forgive me?” 
“Forgive you? Ronan, please, I’m the one that flew off the handle. I’m…” 
He cut me off with a kiss. “Do you remember the phone call I took Saturday evening before we had din- 
ner?” 
“Yes.” 
“That was Nina returning my call. She found out your name and where you worked. I cut a deal with her 
telling her she could run the pictures, but she was to leave your name out of the post. I told her if she
printed 
anything personal I would sue her and Taryn.” 
“Ronan, I’m sorry.” I shook my head. “I don’t care about my picture being published. I appreciate that
you 
cared so much to try and stop it, though,” I muttered softly. “Will you forgive me?” 
He pulled back, placing his thumb over my cheek and wiping the tears away. Taking the drink from my 
hand, he placed it on the bar and returned to me. With his fingers around the nape of my neck he kissed
me 
deeply, brushing his tongue with mine over and over. 
“Does that answer your question?” 
I nodded, looking into his eyes with a seductive lazy grin. God, he has me so irrevocably under his spell. I
had 
survived my first fight with Ronan Connolly. Granted it was all my doing with my trust issues, but at least
he 
didn’t let me run. He made me talk to him. He made me communicate, which was a good thing. The last
thing I 
wanted was to end up like my parents, never asking the right questions and never being completely
honest. 
“Three things… You don’t love Emma?” 
He shook his head and said, “No, not in the least.” 
“And you make love to me?” 
“My beauty, you’ve cast a spell on me, and I’m enamored by you.” 
“Funny, I was thinking the same thing about you. I think you seduce me with your eyes on purpose,” I 
replied. “And we’re dating?” 
Teasing me, he said, “I don’t date, remember?” He bent down to kiss me again. 
I cocked my head to the left, giving him a sly smile. I said nothing. 
He laughed very sweetly, telling me, “I only want to be with you. There is no one else that has my atten- 
tion.” 
The penthouse phone rang, and Ronan answered it. “Yes send them up. Thank you.” 
Shoving my hands into the pockets of my skirt, I looked at him suspiciously. Ronan came back towards 
me, brushing the hair away from my face and clearing the way to cover my mouth with his firm sweet
lips. I 
heard a knock at the door. Ronan kissed me again quickly and then walked to the foyer. Dean stood
there care- 
fully checking IDs as the women marched in swiftly, one leggy blonde after the other wearing white lab
coats 
and dressed in black. They were carrying suitcases, folding massage tables and endless cosmetics cases. 
“Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you,” he said while cupping my face. “We’re getting a couple’s massage, and
then 
you’re getting pampered the rest of the afternoon before the gala,” Ronan whispered while tracing
small circles 
on my cheek with his thumb. 
“Ronan, my love, you look well,” said a tall blonde woman dressed in all black, kissing him on both 
cheeks. She had a thick accent, maybe Swedish. Her name was Livia Bergman, and she owned, according
to 
Ronan, the most exclusive upscale full service salon and spa in all of Manhattan. Ronan was just one of
her 
many celebrity clients. For a moment I wondered if he had slept with Livia. That greeting was awfully
warm and 
familiar. 
  
I thoroughly enjoyed my afternoon of pampering. Ronan had ordered champagne and espresso along
with 
fresh fruit and assorted Italian chocolates to indulge in while I had my hair and nails done. When I
emerged 
from the master suite wearing the strapless metallic gown, I found Ronan standing in front of the picture
win- 
dow. He stood tall and powerful gazing out over the city as the sun began to dip into the horizon with
one hand 
on the piano and a drink in his other. He turned around, catching my stare. His eyes widened as he ran
his 
hand over the curve of his jaw to his mouth, taking in the sight of me in the dress. I smiled knowing that
I had 
this alluring effect on him. 
The dress was simply stunning. It was almost as if it was made with my body in mind, hugging my curves 
in all the right places. I felt amazing. 
My dark brown hair was parted on one side with my blunt bangs sweeping across my forehead and
loose 
waves cascading over my shoulders. Mimi, the makeup artist that Ronan hired, made me up with a
subtle blue 
smoky eye and slicked my lips with a very light pink gloss. I thought about a silver manicure, but I
ultimately 
went classic with a French manicure. I didn’t want to be too bold, yet. 
Just as Ronan was scanning my body with his electric eyes, I was doing the same thing to him, taking
note 
of just how handsome he truly was. Dressed in a classic white tuxedo shirt paired with slim-fitting
trousers, he 
looked distinguished. His bowtie was draped around his collarbone not yet tied and his normally curly
dark 
brown hair was slicked back in neat relaxed waves. 
“Holliday, you look absolutely gorgeous. I’m an incredibly lucky man,” he said, approaching me slowly 
while placing his drink on the round table. 
Blushing, I said, “Thank you. You look pretty dapper yourself, Mr. Connolly. Like James Bond.” 
“All I need is a martini because I already have a beautiful woman on my arm. I’m not going to be able to 
control myself tonight. All I’ll be thinking about is how to get you out of this dress and spread out under
me,” 
he teased. 
“Well you’ll just have to control your libido tonight, Ronan. Honestly, and I cannot believe I’m saying
this, 
I think I need a break from your cock.” 
What am I saying? I’ll never tire of him fucking me. 
His eyebrows shot up as he inched towards me, saying, “I can use things other than my cock to ravage 
your irresistible body incessantly.” He licked his bottom lip. 
Christ! Don’t fucking do that. 
“I like this,” he said, running his hand up the parted slit of my dress, seductively caressing my leg.
Reach- 
ing up and under he found that I was not wearing any panties. 
“Well, well what’s going on here?” 
I playfully smirked at him, shoving at the curve of his shoulder. 
Kissing my neck he let out a groan so enthralling the vibrations sent rippling shockwaves through my en- 
tire body. 
Ronan moved me to the back of the couch where he bent me over at the waist, throwing my dress up
over 
my hips and exposing my backside. He ran his hands over the small of my back and down my buttocks,
grip- 
ping each side firmly. With the coaxing of his knees, my legs parted, and I let out a gasp when he
plunged a fin- 
ger inside me. He stroked me back and forth slowly as he planted soft kisses on the curve of my hip. I felt
my 
breasts swell, my stomach tighten and my nipples harden instantly at his skillful touch. He added a
second fin- 
ger, causing me to buck my hips, silently begging for more. 
Fuck me. 
Normally I might give a damn that I’d just had my hair and makeup done, but I was shamelessly seduced 
into letting Ronan do whatever he wanted to me. I didn’t care if he smudged my lipstick or tousled my
hair. I 
was all too happy to have a quick and dirty romp with him. 
Grabbing me by the waist, he spun me around swiftly. My ass smacked up against the low back of the 
couch, and I gripped it with my hands for balance. With a greedy desire sharpening in his eyes, he threw
my 
skirt up over my hips. Apparently he was on a mission. Most of my evening gown was over the back of
the 
couch. The rest of the fabric was being held back by Ronan’s hand. In an instant he was on his knees,
running 
his soft hot tongue over my clit. I nearly fell over when he began moving his tongue with broad strokes
over the 
entire area of my pussy. My knees shook when I felt Ronan sucking the most inner bits of my skin. 
“Mmmm, Holliday you taste sweet like vanilla, sugary sweet… so warm.” 
That was nice of him to say, but I’m sure I don’t taste like a fucking cupcake. 
When he took one of his long fingers pushing in as far as he could go, I spread my stance wider. He 
seemed to enjoy that because he dipped another finger inside me while licking my throbbing clit wildly.
My en- 
tire body grew warmer with every soft stroke of his tongue. I was losing my mind, coming undone the
more he 
licked and sucked. I gripped the couch so tight I thought I might break off a nail. 
“I could spend hours between your legs… sucking… licking and tasting your fucking perfect silky little 
cunt.” 
He blew softly against my skin, teasing me, driving me wild, while licking me senseless. Devouring me, 
Ronan plunged deeper and deeper. My unhinging came when he pressed his plush tongue flat against
my 
pussy, while still sucking my clit. 
“Ohhh… Yesss,” I cried out in a moan of indescribable pleasure. I thought for sure the next floor could
hear 
me. I nearly thought I might blackout from the dizzying electric shockwaves that were ripping through
me. 
“Jesus Christ, Ronan,” I said breathlessly. 
Ronan placed soft kisses across my thighs as I tried to regain my balance. He stood up, allowing my
dress 
to fall back to the floor. I caught the scent of him as he leaned into my body, crisp and clean. I ached to
touch 
him. I never wanted him to stop touching me, ever. He adjusted my dress and I noticed his cock was
bulging 
through his pants. I couldn’t help myself. I wanted desperately to return the favor. Dropping to my
knees in a 
$9,000 crystal-beaded gown, I reached up for the length of him. 
“Holliday,” he whispered. 
Slowly unzipping his pants, a low guttural moan escaped him as I took him into my mouth with full 
leisurely slides, gripping just under the tip and moving my hand slowly up and down. I knew I should just
suck 
the tip, but I wanted to feel all of him in my wet mouth. 
“Fuck me, good God that feels amazing,” he gritted through clenched teeth. 
I looked up and winked. I could tell that turned him on so I continued to give him a few more deep
slides 
taking him all the way into the back of my throat. 
Completely hungry in my need to taste him, I gripped his shaft with both hands gently as I massaged
him 
with my tongue. His moans of pleasure urged me to suck harder, cupping one hand around the base of
his 
shaft and lightly squeezing. 
“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” 
Ronan threaded his fingers through my tresses. I felt his long fingers massaging my scalp. With my
senses 
overloading, I kept servicing him, driving him wild with each lick. 
“Holliday, Christ. I’m so hard,” he groaned. “I love watching you sucking my cock.” 
I swirled my wet tongue around the tip of the wide head of his dick and then took the length of him in
my 
mouth gently and began moving in a slow steady rhythm. 
Ronan pulled my hair, forcing my face up to look him in the eyes, murmuring while panting slowly,
“I’m… 
going… to come now.” 
I gently cupped his balls, stroking them softly as I brought Ronan to climax with a few more licks. Long 
wet slides with my tongue and brief grazes on the tip of his cock sent him exploding into my mouth. I
swal- 
lowed each slow burst of hot liquid that he pumped into me, enjoying the saltiness as it coated my
tongue and 
then slid down the back of my throat. He let out the most astonishingly erotic growl as he came
forcefully for 
what seemed like several minutes. 
“Christ, baby,” he said, inhaling through sharp panting breaths. “That was fucking incredible. I’m going
to 
fully enjoy fucking your sweet mouth. You’re very good at that.” 
Ronan hiked up his pants while trying to regain his normal breathing. 
Walking to the bathroom I basked in the delight that I had rocked this man’s world sexually using only
my 
mouth. Okay, so my tongue and hands had helped too, but still I was very pleased with myself. Moments
later, 
after I was able to collect myself, Ronan joined me, and we brushed our teeth in silence, only smiling at
each in 
the mirror. He was positively glowing. He couldn’t stop smiling. I didn’t know if it was because I was with
him 
or because of the mind-blowing orgasm I’d just given him. Maybe it was both. I watched him intently as
he tied 
his bow tie carefully, slipped on his jacket over his broad shoulders and clasped his silver Bvlgari watch
to his 
wrist. He was so beautiful I wanted to cry. 
Is that stupid? I seriously think I’m falling for him. 

Chapter Nine
 
The sleek black limo arrived at the gala just in time so that Ronan could walk the red carpet. He asked if
I 
was ready to be photographed on his arm, and I declined. I honestly didn’t think it was a good idea. He
under- 
stood, but I could tell that a twinge of disappointment rushed over him. 
“I have a surprise for you tonight,” he said, smiling warmly at me while twirling the diamond and
platinum 
bracelet he’d bought for me with his long fingers. 
“What is it?” I giggled. 
“Mr. Connolly, sir, they’re ready to take you to the red carpet now,” Dean’s husky voice said over the
inter- 
com. 
“Okay, I’m ready. Open the door in ten.” Brushing the back of his hand over my cheek, he kissed me. I 
gripped his arm as his hands drifted to my neck, deepening our kisses. I gently shoved his shoulder,
saying, 
“You’re going to be late.” 
“I’m already late.” He grinned. 
He let go of me, and I hurriedly went towards the front of the limo so that no one would see me. Ronan 
smoothed his tie, the door opened and he stepped out. His PR team quickly ushered him out of the limo
and 
up the steps to the media frenzy. I heard the screams and the chanting of his name which made me
anxious 
and excited all at once. I felt my heart skip a beat when he was swept up in the swarm of photographers,
and I 
could no longer see his gorgeous silhouette. 
After dropping Ronan off at the front of the Hawthorne Park Plaza, Dean escorted me into the VIP
entrance 
of the ballroom, ushering me past security and shielding me from the few paparazzi that were hiding in
the 
alley, hoping to get pictures of celebrities avoiding the red carpet. 
The place was packed wall to wall with celebrities. Walking to the bar alone I must have passed fifteen
or 
so famous faces I recognized. While ordering a white wine, I noticed Ronan’s co-star, Heather Young,
talking to 
a tall dark-haired guy in a midnight navy suit. I wondered which famous person she might be talking
with. 
Heather was obviously enjoying herself— she was flipping her hair, touching his arm and giving this
person 
the most seductive fuck me eyes. 
My own eyes darted around the ballroom searching for any sign of Ronan. Dean was at least ten feet
be- 
hind me at all times everywhere I moved. 
“Holliday Prescott,” I heard a male voice say. 
I turned around slowly to find Grady James standing in front of me looking as handsome as ever. 
Good God. 
I never dreamed in a million years I’d run into him, of all people, at Ronan’s charity event. Tall, dark and 
handsome, Grady James was one of the hottest male models in the world, sometimes charity polo
player and 
occasional actor. He’d been in a handful of TV shows and movies. I’d spent the previous summer, and
then 
some, fucking his brains out all over the city of Manhattan and at his beach house in the Hamptons.
Grady had 
a thing for fucking in public places— elevators, hotel lobby bathrooms and the VIP room of an upscale
martini 
bar. He’d even managed to screw me on his agent’s desk one afternoon in July. Technically his agent’s
office is 
not public space, but it was thrilling to think we could be caught at any moment. 
“Grady James, what are you doing here?” I asked as he hugged me and brushed a soft kiss to my heated 
cheek. A photographer snapped a photo of us, reminding me of the night I went to his agency’s annual
white 
party as his date. We were photographed everywhere that night. I wonder if those pictures were still in
exis- 
tence. 
“Holliday, you look absolutely wonderful. You are a sight for sore eyes,” he teased, giving me a
flirtatious 
once over. “I’m a guest of Heather Young’s.” 
Right, of course he would be a guest of Heather’s. 
His midnight navy suit amplified his dark blue eyes. And of course it was expertly tailored— three-piece, 
with a checkered shirt and a pink and purple striped tie. His dark hair was slicked back and he had the
slightest 
five o’clock shadow. 
Damn he was sexy. 
“How are you doing, Holliday?” 
“I’m fine, nothing too exciting happening.” 
I was jolted from my conversation with Grady by the sounds of echoing clapping. Ronan had entered
the 
ballroom, all smiles and waves. 
“I hate that guy,” Grady grumbled. 
That whipped my attention back to him. 
“Ronan Connolly? Why?” I huffed. “He’s harmless.” 
“He’s a self-centered asshole who’s only out for himself.” 
“Really?” I said dryly. “The movie star who’s hosting a charity gala to help raise funds for the good of
send- 
ing medical supplies to Africa?” 
“Holliday, I’m telling you the guy is first-class jerk.” 
“What do you know about Ronan?” I quipped. 
Suddenly Heather Young appeared from the shadows, linking her arm with Grady’s. She smiled at me in 
that fake way that women do when they’re sizing you up. Heather was tall and beautiful, lean in all the
right 
places and curvy in all of the other the perfect places, the true definition of a blonde bombshell. Her
slim-fitting 
red, scoop-neck gown showed off her two best assets— her huge tits. She looked pretty good, maybe a
little 
tired considering she was just let out of rehab about two months ago. According to the gossips, stress
and anx- 
iety issues had gotten her a pass into a posh resort to help her recharge from being overworked. Others
say it 
was her heroin addiction. I didn’t think she was wiry enough to have a drug problem. I’ve been around
my fair 
share of models with substance problems, including Charlotte, who’d battled her demons early on.
She’d had a 
mild flirtation with cocaine, pills and booze. After a few bad decisions that could have wrecked her
career, Char- 
lotte had given up the drugs, but she still had the occasional drink. 
I took a sip of my wine and saw Ronan approaching us. The flashbulbs from all the cameras went off like 
lightening with every powerful stride he took. He kissed my cheek and whispered, “Stay away from
Grady 
James. I have to go greet everyone. Find Dean and take your seat,” he demanded coolly. 
“Heather, you look beautiful,” Ronan said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. 
“Grady, glad you could make it to the event,” Ronan said sharply as he shook his hand. 
He excused himself and went to the podium. He didn’t introduce me to Heather, but I will forgive him, 
knowing that I held some accountability for his late arrival. I did as I was told and went to my seat at the
VIP 
table. I didn’t recognize or know anyone seated at my table. 
The event wasn’t entirely fun for me. Ronan, whom I barely spoke to, was my lifeline and he couldn’t
really 
introduce me because he was too busy himself. I couldn’t fault him for that. The only person I knew I
was or- 
dered not to talk to, but I couldn’t exactly avoid Grady. He came up to me at one point asking me to
dance. I felt 
Ronan’s eyes burning into me, so I politely declined. I tried to talk to as many people that I felt
comfortable with 
while Ronan mingled. 
“How much time do we have before I need to be back at the podium?” Ronan asked one of his PR
Consul- 
tants. I think he said her name was Donna. She was young, blonde and rail thin. 
Checking her itinerary, she replied, “Dinner will be served in twenty minutes, followed by dessert and
you 
have fifteen minutes after that before you have to speak again, Mr. Connolly.” 
Ronan stood. “Very good. Thank you, Donna.” Leaning into me he whispered, “Come with me, now.” 
Leaving the ballroom, Ronan pulled me into the bathroom. 
“Ronan,” I stepped back. “What are we doing in here?” 
“We didn’t finish what we started earlier,” he replied as he closed the gap between us. 
“Ronan, I don’t think we should do this in here.” 
A soft moan escaped my lips as Ronan smoothed his hand up my thigh and slipped between my legs
find- 
ing me completely wet. 
“As it would seem my beauty, you are quite ready to do this, in here,” he said, taking my bottom lip into
his 
mouth. 
Pushing me against the vanity I heard someone turn the doorknob. My eyes flew open in panic. 
“Don’t worry, the door is locked,” he said, picking me up and setting me on the sink. 
“Ronan…” My breath caught in my throat as his hand squeezed my breast. 
Trailing his tongue against my skin, he whispered, “Are you sure you don’t want to fuck me?” He moved 
my hand and placed it over his cock— rock hard. Kissing down my chin and gently sucking on my neck, I 
gripped him tighter. 
“Tell me what you want, Holliday,” he prompted, caressing my thighs shoving my dress up to my waist. 
I sucked in a breath as he pressed two fingers inside me teasingly moving in and out. He circled his
thumb 
around my clit, both of us looking down where he was touching me. It felt so fucking good. Too good. I
arched 
my back as he continued to stroke my clit. 
“Ronan…” 
He suddenly pulled his fingers out of me. He dipped his thumb across my wetness. Then brought it up to 
my face— dragging it over my lips and sliding it against my tongue. I tasted my own slickness.
Interesting. 
“Tell me you don’t want my cock buried deep inside you, right here… right now.” 
His fingers trailed down my throat and across my collarbone. I felt the flush bloom across my chest as 
Ronan lifted my leg around his waist. Whispering my name, he placed my hand over his belt buckle. I
said 
nothing. I slipped my finger under the metal clasp, and he drew his hand to the back of my dress. My
zipper 
came down. The next thing I felt was Ronan’s tongue swirling around my nipple. 
My eyes fluttered open. “Ronan… please…” My voice was barely a whisper. 
“Please what?” he asked, moving his fingers down to my pussy once more teasing me. 
“Please… yes…” 
Ronan smiled, probably relishing the torment he was causing my body. “Does your sweet cunt ache a
bit?” 
“Ronan.” 
“Do you know how wet you are right now?” His lips pressed against mine. “Are you thinking you might 
want to fuck me now?” More kisses crossed my lips. 
“Too much… talking… just…” My hands reached for his cock in desperation. Feeling the hard length of 
him Ronan let me push his trousers down a bit before moving back a step. 
“Just what, my beauty?” 
“Just… just fuck me already,” I hissed. 
He grabbed my face and pressed his lips to mine replying, “Hang on to the sides of the vanity, because I 
intend to not be gentle.” 
Grabbing me underneath my knees he pulled me forward, sliding his cock inside me. My legs gripped his 
waist as he pounded into me. 
“Ahhhh,” I moaned. “Ronan…” Feeling like I was sliding off the vanity, my hands clawed at his neck to 
maintain my balance. 
“I know you love the way I fuck you, Holliday.” He looked into my eyes and plunged deeper into my
pussy. 
“Tell me how much you love the way I fuck you.” 
Every word that poured from his lips made me slick and hot. He pressed his lips against mine, slipping
his 
tongue into my mouth. Tremors buzzed up and down my spine, and my clit began to throb. My hands
twisted 
and pulled his hair. I felt my body bow towards him, as if I was trying to draw him deeper into me. 
“My beauty, tell me you are mine.” 
My eyes opened, and I watched him fucking me in the mirror on the wall opposite the vanity, threading
his 
hands through my hair and whispering in my ear. His hips flexed, wildly thrusting into me over and over
— 
claiming my body. 
“Yes… Ronan, I am yours.” 
My eyes shifted back to Ronan, moaning his name a few times asking him to fuck me harder. He
slammed 
into me one final time— hitting my g-spot perfectly. My body released around him, and he was right
there with 
me. 
Moments later, after we managed to regain our normal breathing, Ronan reached for a washcloth and 
sweetly cleaned us both up. Pulling himself together, he smoothed his shirt and pants, leaving no trace
that we 
just had incredible sex. Leaning against the vanity, he watched me fix my hair and touch up my lipstick. I
pulled 
the perfume from my clutch and splashed some on my wrist and shoulder. 
“No amount of perfume will hide my scent on you, my beauty,” he smirked, zipping up the back of my 
dress. 
“You’re incorrigible, Ronan.” 
He pressed his index finger to my lips, “That I am. Now, shut up and kiss me.” 
  
After dinner, Ronan was welcomed warmly back to the podium, and he thanked everyone for coming
and 
donating their time, money and resources. That earned him a loud ovation. He talked about the work
they were 
doing in Africa with the clean water program. Reading some stats and facts, he mentioned how many
families 
were receiving medical supplies. A few important people came to the podium to receive special
recognition for 
their leadership and hard work. 
“I’d like to touch on another topic if you’ll indulge me for a few moments more. Recently I was inspired
by 
a young woman to take a closer look at the laws in the state of California and New York, specifically, the
stalk- 
ing, rape and abuse laws. What I found was appalling. The punishments for the criminals who commit
these 
acts of violence are not strict enough.” 
I felt my face and neck flush. I looked around the room, hoping no one was looking at me. I felt sick. 
Ronan was muttering on about protecting victims from their attackers, but I couldn’t hear a thing. My
ears were 
ringing. I managed to bring my focus back to Ronan’s speech after the initial shock left my body. 
“The Connolly Campaign has partnered with The Hope and Faith Foundation to raise awareness of these 
heinous crimes against women. Our goal is to eventually get our elected officials to enforce stricter laws
for 
these deplorable crimes. We need to stop the abuse now. In your packets and gift bags you will find
more infor- 
mation. Again, thank you everyone and goodnight.” 
The room went wild. My throat tightened as I shakily stood there clapping for Ronan. My breathing in- 
creased with each clap, and my chest tightened. 
Fuck me! Not another one. Jesus Christ, I’ve got to get this under control. 
Overcome with waves of emotion, I wanted to die a thousand deaths. How could he do this without
talk- 
ing to me? As coolly as I could, I excused myself to ladies room. When I exited the ballroom, the hot
tears 
stung my cheeks. Dean was following me. I could hear his shoes clacking behind me on the marble floor.
My 
breaths were coming on sharp and strong. My blood was raging through my body, rapidly boiling and
making 
my skin seem like it was on fire. Dean was talking to me, but I couldn’t understand anything. 
Focus Holliday. 
Sweat beads formed at the back of my neck, and I felt hot and cold all at once. Mustering all my
strength, I 
backed against the wall. The ringing in my ears was almost painful. 
Ten. I need to count to ten. 
“Miss Prescott, are you all right?” Dean asked. 
I turned to him, trying to draw in normal breaths. “I need to… I need to get out of here Dean, please.” 
“You there.” Dean motioned to a young man with buttery blonde hair wearing a white server’s jacket.
“Get 
me a glass of water for Miss Prescott, now!” Dean demanded. 
Several sharp shots of light flashed before my eyes. I saw a shadowy figure, but my eyes were heavy.
My 
legs went limp underneath me, and Dean caught me before I fell to the floor. I heard Dean on his cell
phone. 
“Mr. Connolly, Miss Prescott has become ill,” Dean informed Ronan. His husky voice was a bit shaky. 
“I’m taking her back to the penthouse. Yes sir, right away, Mr. Connolly.” 
“Miss Prescott, sit here and drink this water,” Dean instructed as he eased my body into a comfy
padded 
chair. I tried to focus. Shifting my attention, I studied Dean’s heart-shaped face framed by his strong
jawline. I 
noticed his brown eyes had a hint of green to them around the irises, which only complimented his very
nice 
teeth. 
I took a few sips of water and asked Dean to get me a Xanax out of my clutch. I swallowed the pill. 
“Do you think you can walk to the limo, Miss Prescott?” Dean asked me softly. 
“Yes, I think so,” I said quietly. 
Dean lifted me up. Walking slowly towards the doors, I saw the limo was already waiting for me. I
stepped 
in and nearly tripped on my dress as I fell forward. My arm caught the seat and I was able to pull myself
up- 
right. Dean sat in the seat opposite of me and told the driver to head to The York. The car took off and I
rolled 
down the window to breathe in the fresh winter air. I laid my head back and stared out the window, my
heart 
twinging with ache. My spirit was dampened. My mind was reeling. Ronan Connolly had just broken me
into a 
million pieces. 
  
“Holliday! Are you okay?” I heard Ronan’s panicked voice echoing in the foyer. 
When Ronan finally returned to the Penthouse I was lying on the couch, still in my evening gown. Dean 
had gotten me an icepack and a glass of water before taking his guard post in one of the armchairs next
to me. 
He immediately stood as Ronan entered the living room. 
“Dean, how is she?” Ronan said with panic in his voice, running his hands through his hair. 
“Mr. Connolly, she’s…” 
“She’s okay, just a bit shaken,” I replied. 
Dean began walking towards the stairs. 
“Thank you Dean,” I called as he walked away. 
“It’s no trouble, Miss Prescott. I hope you feel better,” he said warmly. 
Ronan reached for my hand, rubbing the back of it gently. “My beauty, what happened?” he asked,
kneeling 
beside me on the floor. 
“Was that your surprise for me tonight?” 
“Yes. I take it that it was not something you approved of?” he asked softly with sadness in his voice. 
His question made me laugh a little. I began to sit up, and Ronan helped me, clutching my arm firmly. 
“Ronan, how could you do that to me?” 
He shot me a puzzled look and then professed, “I didn’t mention your name. I just said I was inspired by
a 
young woman.” 
“Ronan, they’re going to know it’s me. The media is going to put two and two together and figure it out.
I 
don’t think you have enough money, favors or deals that you can cut with the tabloids to keep my name
out of 
this do-gooder idea of yours.” I paused, gently stroking his face. He looked up at me as if completely
heart- 
broken. I knew that feeling. “A noble idea, and a beautiful gesture, but you should have talked to me.” 
He hung his head and sighed. “Holliday, I’m sorry. I just wanted to help. Your story and what happened
to 
you really opened my eyes to the cause and these insane laws.” 
“Ronan,” I began, shifting my body closer to him. “I don’t want to be your cause and I definitely don’t
want 
to be the face of rape and violence against women. I do not want my personal story to get out. I won’t
be able to 
handle it.” 
He stood up and walked to the bar, pouring a drink. He sipped it slowly and then turned back to me, 
yelling, “So, what? I’m just never allowed to try to fix this? I’m never allowed to even think about trying
to repair 
the damage that it caused to your beautiful body and soul?” 
“Ronan, I don’t need you to try and fix me! I just need you to fuck me,” I snapped back. 
His posture stiffened, and his eyes went dark. “Dammit Holliday, don’t be crass! I’m being serious.” He 
paused, taking another sip of his drink. “I just wanted to do something, anything to fix this goddamn
awful 
thing that happened to you. It infuriates me. The thought of someone hurting you and the fact I cannot
do any- 
thing about it— it crushes me.” 
I stood up and walked towards him. “I don’t need you to save me. You cannot erase what happened. I 
know you’re frustrated, but Ronan you cannot just do these things without talking to me first.” 
Running his hand through his curly locks, he inhaled sharply. “I have two young daughters you know,
and 
the very thought of someone ever hurting them, well that thought keeps me up at night.” 
I hadn’t even thought about his feelings as a dad. This must be gut-wrenching for him on that level. I
won- 
dered what my own father, Jay, would have done if he were alive. It nearly killed my step-father to see
me lying 
broken and battered in that hospital bed. I think that was the second time in my life I’d ever seen the
man cry. 
“I’m sorry Ronan. I didn’t even consider your feelings of concern as a father with Leah and Jade.” 
He put his arms around me and kissed me on the lips. “I can’t help this feeling I have and this deep need 
to protect you. I don’t ever want anyone to hurt you again.” 
I sighed. “You aren’t always going to be able to protect me from being hurt. What you can do is let me
be 
me, and when a problem arises, we’ll handle it— together.” I pulled my head up, looking him in his
beautiful 
eyes. “I’m serious though Ronan. I don’t want my name associated with the cause. I cannot share my
story with 
the public. I’d love if I never had to tell another soul again – ever.” 
Ronan pulled back from the embrace he had me wrapped up in, cupping my chin with one hand while 
looking at me with his dark eyes dazzling. “You’re never going to have to tell that story to anyone or
another 
man ever. I’m the last one. You’re mine, Holliday— my beauty.” Our mouths molded together in a
tender kiss 
that seemed to never end. 
Chapter Ten
 
I woke up to find Ronan was not in the bed beside me. Hearing muffled sounds coming from the living 
room, I pulled on my silk robe and peeked through the half-open set of French doors that led to the
living room 
from the master suite. Through the picture window I could see that it was snowing again. Standing near
the 
piano, I spied Ronan on his phone. He was staring out the window at the glittering lights of the city.
Hearing 
his low hushed voice, I smiled knowing he was talking to Leah or Jade. It was just after midnight in
Manhattan 
which meant it was just after nine in Los Angeles. His grey cotton pajama bottoms hung low off his hips
and 
his black cotton V-neck hugged his strong toned biceps tightly. Even from the side he looked totally
edible. 
“And you wrapped all the Christmas presents all by yourself? You did a good job, my darling girl. Oh¸ I 
see, Jade helped you… and mommy too.” He let out a soft chuckle. I pushed the door open quietly and
leaned 
against the doorjamb, eavesdropping. He is a great dad. It made my heart fill with warmth. 
“Very good Leah, I’ll see you soon. Daddy loves you. Big hugs and lots of kisses. I love you so much.” 
He slumped his shoulders and inhaled deeply as he ended the call. Turning around slowly, he met my 
stare, looking quite somber. I could tell he was in pain. 
“I’m sorry, Holliday. Did I wake you?” 
“No.” I peered at him with half-hooded eyes. “I just missed you.” 
Tossing his phone on the couch, he practically ran to scoop me up in his arms. Kissing me deeply, he 
growled in my mouth. The vibrations rippled through me straight to my core. I wanted this man badly. 
“Come to California with me Holliday.” 
“Ronan,” I wailed softly. “You know I can’t do that.” I looked away, resisting the urge to give in and go
with 
him. I just wasn’t sure I could do it. I had to work with Dr. Goodwin on getting over my fear. California
was my 
home; it’s where I grew up. One horrible thing shouldn’t keep me out of an entire state. 
“My beauty,” Ronan muttered softly. “What will it take to get you to come with me? Extra security?
Private 
jet? Whatever you want, it’s yours. Name it.” 
I knew if I kept protesting it would turn into a fight, and I would rather spend our last few precious
hours 
together making love not war. 
“Okay, Ronan, I’ll consider it.” A warm smile was all it took for him to carry me off to his bed and seduce 
me with his body into the early morning hours. Our bodies twisted with each other as our lips met with
deep 
lush kisses. His body covered mine, and our fingers entangled with every riveting thrust and heart-
pounding 
climax. My body arched above his while I rode the length of him, our eyes breaking contact only for
mere sec- 
onds as we savored the intense shockwaves coursing through our bodies. 
Overwhelming tingles shivered down my spine as Ronan snaked his way up my body with his tongue,
lick- 
ing, sucking and gently sweeping his mouth over my stomach. Ronan groaned and I gasped with loud
cries of 
sex filling the room. The orgasms exploded through me like a volcanic eruption. Moments later, Ronan
pulled 
out, causing me to moan at the loss. Panting, trying to regain normal breathing, Ronan kissed the top of
my 
head. 
“Ronan,” I whispered. 
“Hmmm,” he murmured softly. 
“Don’t let go.” 
“Never, my beauty,” he breathed. “Not ever. You are mine.” 
Unable to move or speak, I drifted off to sleep. 
  
It was just after two in the morning. I was lying in bed unable to sleep as Ronan’s beautiful words
rushed 
through my mind. “You’re never going to have to tell that story to anyone or another man ever. I’m the
last one. 
You’re mine, my beauty.” 
I replayed his words over and over with memories of our passion-filled night flooding in, sending a pow- 
erful rush of heat over my skin. Ronan was sleeping peacefully, his arms still around me. He’d said he’d
never 
let go, and he hadn’t. I was starting to realize that it was possible I could trust this man. 
It occurred to me that it was Thursday now, which meant I had only two days more with Ronan before
he 
left to go back to his home in Los Angeles. I didn’t know when he was coming back or if he was even
coming 
back. Yes, he’s coming back. He just has to. 
An overwhelming sadness came over me and I started to cry. 
I really need to get this crying shit under control. 
Ronan heard my soft sobs. I tried to choke them back. He nuzzled my cheek, tipping my chin back to- 
wards him as he brushed his firm lips across mine. An ache trembled inside me, sending a shiver up my
spine. 
“Hey… hey… shhh,” he instructed quietly while rocking me gently. “Holliday, why are you crying?” 
“I… I’m sorry, Ronan. I didn’t mean to wake you. I just got really sad thinking about you leaving.” 
“Oh, sweetheart, please don’t cry. I can’t take it.” He paused, placing soft kisses down my neck. “You
don’t 
think you can come with me, huh?” 
Propping myself up on my elbow, I turned to face him. He ran his finger down the length of my face, 
sweeping my bangs back across my forehead because they had fallen, covering my eyes. 
“I want to come with you, I do, but I think you should spend time alone with the girls. They aren’t used
to 
sharing you when you’re all together. Plus, I think I should spend some time with my own niece and
nephew. 
They probably don’t know what to think about me not being home.” 
Ronan twisted my loose curls around his index finger, listening attentively, those beautiful green eyes
shift- 
ing to intensity. I felt like they were piercing straight through to my soul. 
“Holliday, sleep and we can discuss this later. I don’t want you feeling sad, not today and not ever.” 
I flipped back to my side, and Ronan pulled me into him, wrapping me up with his arms and legs. We fit 
together like two puzzle pieces, my bottom in his lap and his chin resting between my neck and
shoulder. I 
could hear him lightly breathing, and feel his warm breath against my neck. I fell asleep to the rhythm of
his 
heart beating strong and steady against my back. I felt safe. I felt loved. No, it’s much, much too soon for
that. I 
was tangled up in a fantasy dream world with a hot movie star. The real world waited, and that would
be the 
true test of our romantic fate. 
  
“Wake up, my beauty.” I could feel Ronan’s hand running the length of my arm. 
He was freshly showered. His scent was intoxicating, clean and a little musky, like vanilla and cedar
wood. 
It must have been a new cologne, but I liked it. I turned my head to spy him sitting on the edge of the
bed fully 
clothed. 
While I did adore him in all his naked glory, I think I enjoyed him more clothed. He dressed incredibly 
well. It must have been true, what lingerie was to men… that was how women felt about a man in a suit.
This 
morning he was dressed in dark denim jeans with a crisp white shirt under a charcoal grey vest and
matching 
suit jacket. 
“Well hello, sharply dressed man,” I teased. 
“Good morning. Did you sleep well?” 
I rolled up from under the covers, leaning my body against the padded cream-colored headboard,
stretch- 
ing my arms above my head. “As well as I could. Where are you off to looking so handsome this
morning?” 
“I have a few meetings and a couple errands to run. It will take a few hours. Sorry to leave you. Will you
be 
all right by yourself?” 
“You know I did manage fine on my own before you bumped into my life, Ronan Connolly.” My reply
was 
laced with sweet sarcasm. He arched an eyebrow in my direction. I knew he was confused, but someday
I’d tell 
him about Leah bumping my arm in the lobby. 
Giving me an eye roll, Ronan pushed to his feet. “You’re funny this morning.” He straightened his jacket 
and ran his hands down the front, smoothing out the folds. 
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I was thinking of calling my sister and then hitting the gym,” I said as I drew up my 
knees, wrapping my arms around them. 
“The very thought of you getting hot and sweaty…” He growled a low moan in his throat. “That makes
me 
hot.” 
Smiling innocently I let the blankets covering me fall to the bed, just to give him a lasting image of me 
looking tantalizing in silk champagne colored lace. He licked his bottom lip and shook his head sucking in
a 
sharp breath. 
“Are you trying to seduce me, Miss Prescott?” he purred while straightening his cuffs and adjusting the
sil- 
ver Bvlgari watch on his wrist. 
“Maybe.” I hummed. “Is it working?” 
“Anything you do works a number on my libido. I’m not giving into your sexy feminine wiles. God knows
I 
want to, but I have to make it to my meeting on time.” He cocked his head and winked at me. 
I knew he was referring to our tryst before the gala, but in all fairness he’d initiated it. I’d remind him of 
that later. I frowned, sticking my tongue out playfully. 
“Beauty, why don’t you just lay here naked and wait for me? When I get back I’ll be happy to fuck you
so 
hard that you come undone over and over. You’ll be begging me to stop.” 
Christ! I’d definitely be hitting the gym. 
“You’d like that wouldn’t you? Me, naked, just waiting around for you, begging to be taken on a
moment’s 
notice, as if I had nothing better to do.” 
He nodded, “If I had my way, I’d have you naked and wet, begging for me to fuck you twenty-four,
seven.” 
I swallowed the lump in my throat, “God, Ronan, you really have a way with words.” 
Pressing his lips to mine, he kissed me. “Okay, here’s a keycard. I hired a bodyguard the other day to
look 
out for you when I’m not around. He’s here this morning. I’d like to introduce you to him before I leave.
Can 
you put on something less…” He paused a beat. “…Tempting?” His mouth curved in to a cocky grin. “His
name 
is Blake Foster. He’s ex-military. I programmed his number into your phone and mine.” 
I attempted to say something, but Ronan waved me off with his hand. When did he have time to hire a
body- 
guard? I assumed it was probably while I was getting pampered yesterday before the gala. 
“Do not go anywhere without him.” 
“Not even the bathroom,” I quipped. 
“Wow, you are on a comedy roll this morning, Miss Prescott.” He shot me an irritated look. 
“Really, Ronan? Is this totally necessary?” I wailed, yanking the keycard from his long fingers. 
“Holliday, do not fight me on this, please. When I’m not here, it will give me peace of mind knowing 
someone’s looking out for your safety and well-being.” 
“It’s a wonder how I survived twenty-six years on Earth.” 
“Don’t be smart,” he admonished. “I’m doing this more for me than I am for you.” 
That was nice of him to say, but I knew that was not completely true. I knew he was freaking out
thinking 
my ex would come back for me and finish the job he’d started. 
“Fine,” I scoffed as I jumped out of bed, retrieving my clothing from the dresser. I pulled on my black
leg- 
gings and grey USC t-shirt. “Is he at least good-looking? I’ve always wanted a sexy buff guy to watch over
me. If 
I have to spend time with a man he should be good-looking.” 
Ronan stepped in front of me, encircling his arms around my waist. “My beauty, are you trying to make
me 
jealous?” 
“Me? No. Not ever.” My tone was completely sarcastic, but I managed to give him a devious grin so he 
wouldn’t be too upset by my smart mouth. 
“Okay, enough. I’m tabling this conversation for later. Order room service if you want and charge it to
me. 
Anything you want.” 
He bent to kiss me on the lips, caressing my tongue with his over and over. His hands were twisting my 
loose waves. He grasped the base of my throat, wrapping his long fingers around the nape of my neck.
Shock 
waves rippled through my core right to my toes. I swear they actually curled up. 
Ronan released his grasp on my neck and pulled me out of the bedroom by my hand. 
After making our way upstairs, Ronan introduced me to Blake. He was very nice and surprisingly very 
good-looking. He was as tall as Dean, broad shoulders with a trim physique, looking like he’d stepped
out of an 
Armani ad rather than the military. Blake’s dark wavy hair was swept back off his forehead, hanging just
above 
the collar of his black moto jacket. I noticed his eyes immediately, an icy cool blue. Why the fuck would
Ronan 
hire a bodyguard for me that looks like a dreamy sex pot? 
Ronan kissed me goodbye and walked out the door. I felt alone, that type of loneliness that causes a
chill 
to run up your spine. I needed coffee to warm me up. In the butler’s pantry, I found Ronan had made a
fresh 
pot. I stood there sipping the delicious vanilla hazelnut blend, and it instantly warmed my belly. Glancing
at my 
phone, I noticed I had several messages. One was from Charlotte telling me to call her immediately.
There were 
several messages from people I hadn’t talked to in years and one from my college roommate, Amelia.
What the 
hell is going on? 
My mind immediately retreated down into the darkest place, thinking someone had died. I pulled up
Char- 
lotte’s number and she answered on the first ring. 
“Hey sis, what’s going on?” I asked coolly. 
“Holliday, you’re splashed all over the tabloids this morning.” 
“What are you talking about?” 
“There are pictures of you climbing into and out of a limo at the Hawthorne Park Plaza. It’s all over the 
internet, pictures of you with Grady James, of Ronan Connolly kissing you on the cheek and countless
other im- 
ages. The headlines are my favorite. You look beautiful, just stunning.” 
“Thanks for saying that Char, you’re sweet. I don’t have my laptop here.” 
“Yeah you do. I know I packed it in your suitcase.” 
I went to the closet and found my laptop and charger along with some work stuff on the shelf. How did I 
overlook that? Oh, yeah maybe because I’d been doing nothing but screwing Ronan all week and
thinking of 
nothing else. 
“Okay found it, gimme a few to boot it up.” My chest tightened as I felt my blood pumping vigorously 
through my body. I went to the bathroom to take my pill, as a precaution, and waited for my computer
to start. 
“What do the headlines say, Charlotte?” 
“Ronan Connolly Spotted at Charity Gala with Charlotte Ricchetti Designs Executive, Holliday Prescott. 
Mom is going to flip her lid when she finds out you’re linked to Ronan Connolly.” 
“Mom, I don’t even want to imagine the mental wedding she’s planning in her head.” I laughed. “I’d
hardly 
call myself an executive.” 
“Thanks for the headline and bringing attention to my company though,” she teased. “Holliday, that’s
just 
one of dozens of headlines.” 
I did a search for my name, and sure as can be I was one of the top trending news stories. Rather, my
rela- 
tionship with Ronan was a top story. Crap! 
“Sis, this is going to spin out of control. Does Ronan know you have a past with Grady?” 
“No,” I answered sharply. “And I’d love to keep it that way. It was just a fling. It was never serious.” 
“Not that serious? Okay Holliday, if that’s the way you want to play it.” 
“Look Char, how do you think Ronan would feel knowing it was Grady who was the first man I opened
up 
to about the rape? That Grady was the one who held me when I had nightmares and flashbacks. That it
was 
Grady, who went to a friends and family therapy session with me? I will handle telling Ronan that
information 
someday… if I need to.” 
“The tabloids say there is bad blood between Ronan and Grady.” 
“Yeah, I gathered that, too. Grady told me last night he thought Ronan was a first class jerk— he didn’t 
elaborate. Then Ronan told me to stay away from Grady.” 
“Did he say why?” 
“Nope, I didn’t have any time to ask any questions. Ronan was busy the entire night and then we had a 
fight. Then we had mind-blowing makeup sex.” 
I scanned the headlines, bookmarking my favorite ones. 
RONAN CONNOLLY HEATS UP COLD NIGHT IN NYC WITH HOT BRUNETTE 
FIVE THINGS YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT RONAN CONNOLLY’S NEW LADY, HOLLIDAY PRESCOTT 
IS RONAN CONNOLLY DATING FASHION EXECUTIVE HOLLIDAY PRESCOTT? 
The five things article was interesting. Apparently my favorite coffee was a vanilla soy latte from a café
over 
in Soho— it’s so-ho not. I’d gone to this café once. My favorite food was Italian, especially Lorenzo’s on
the 
Upper East Side. That was a lucky guess. Lucan was part owner. 
“Your life is rough these days, sis,” she huffed. 
“You’re the Park Avenue princess, not me. Remember?” I shot back playfully. 
“Oh right, yeah I am pretty lucky. Did I tell you that Lucan and I are flying off to Bora Bora while the girls 
stay with his parents in London?” 
“No! That is exciting, sis. When is this happening?” I asked and then took a sip of my coffee. 
“Yeah, I need to talk to you about that. We’re flying on the 23rd.” 
“Char, what the fuck?” I snapped. “Thanks for telling me. So we’re not having Christmas together this 
year?” 
“Sorry sis, I was thinking we can do Christmas together before we leave. It will be special. I promise.
Four 
course Italian meal, plenty of booze and presents. Bring Ronan if you want. And you can drive the
Maserati 
while we’re gone,” she pleaded with me. Then she dangled that hot fucking car, appealing to my need
for speed. 
I couldn’t deny her a vacation— she worked too damn hard. They deserved a break, and I wouldn’t be
bringing 
Ronan Connolly to meet the family over Christmas dinner. My sister was absurd. 
“Fine,” I scoffed. “I’ll see you this weekend. Ronan’s flying back to California on Friday.” 
“When’s he coming back to the city?” 
“I honestly don’t know.” I paused. “He asked me to give him Derek’s name. I told him no.” 
“What do you mean, sis?” Her tone was seething with anger. “Why does he want to know that sadistic 
fuck’s name?” 
“I think he just needs to know or see the guy’s face. I guess.” 
“Makes sense, men are weird creatures like that. You know it won’t take Ronan long now to find
pictures of 
you and Derek right?” 
“Maybe, but all of these pictures from the event are linked to me by real name.” 
“Holliday, you should tell Ronan before he finds out on his own. Otherwise it will be a bigger fight than 
you want to deal with, because it will be a fight. You can’t keep something this huge from a well-
connected 
movie star. Trust me, powerful men always find a way around things and they have their ways of
obtaining 
information regular people cannot find.” 
Charlotte would know. Lucan had had a full on background check done before he’d started dating her.
My 
sister obviously had passed his dating requirements checklist since they’ve been married for nearly four
years. 
Lucan didn’t even care about her pervious drug use or our father’s untimely death and the emotional
baggage 
that Charlotte carried with it. They were hopelessly in love— like sugary sweet with a cherry on top in
love. 
They’d met when Lucan had attended a fashion show in Milan. He’d seen Charlotte elegantly gliding
down 
the catwalk and had been so taken that he found a way to meet her after the show. Lucan had been
smitten with 
her from the moment he’d laid eyes on her, so he told it. Lucan swept Charlotte off her feet, and it
hadn’t been 
long after that, that my sister left the modeling world behind at the age of twenty-five and started
planning her 
Italian dream wedding in Ravello. 
“Holliday, I have to get to a meeting, but try to talk to Ronan okay? Love you. Ciao.” 
“Okay. Bye Char, love you too.” 
Before I knew it an hour had gone by. I was shamelessly wrapped up in reading every juicy morsel about 
myself on the Internet. I changed into my workout clothes and called Blake. He was waiting outside and
duti- 
fully escorted me to the gym. I guess he was allowed to work out with me if he wanted, but he didn’t.
Could I 
talk to him? Were we allowed to be friends? I didn’t really know how all this bodyguard stuff worked. 
Blake was quiet most of the day. He told me he was from Texas, Dallas to be exact, and had always
wanted 
to be in the military. He was very careful not to disclose too much— he never even said which branch of
the 
military. I wondered if Blake Foster was a special ops lethal killing machine, a trained assassin like Jason 
Bourne. 

Chapter Eleven
 
An hour and thirty lunges later, I found myself enjoying lunch at the café downstairs of The York where I 
ate at a table by myself. Blake was seated nearby, reading a book while watching our surroundings with
a keen 
eye. A scene flashed in my mind where ninjas dressed in black invaded the hotel, and Blake defended all
of us 
with roundhouse kicks and punches to their faces, breaking bones and disarming their weapons. Several
com- 
bative moves later the evil ninjas lay bloodied, some dead, and Blake was the hero. Women surrounded
him 
frantically, relieved and thankful for his bravery. Blake waved them off. He only had eyes for one
woman. His 
gaze locked on her, and she fell forward. He scooped up the pretty red-haired woman, carrying her off
into the 
sunset. I smiled knowing that would be the plot to a great action thriller. Blake Foster: Ninja Destroyer.
Okay, so 
the title needed work. 
Blake escorted me back to the penthouse where the door swung open to showcase Ronan with a team
of 
decorators, busy turning the living room into a winter wonderland. Christmas music blared through the
sound 
system. My jaw dropped open and I found myself in awe of the scene unfolding before my eyes. 
“Holliday, my beauty. Surprise!” Ronan shouted, practically giddy with excitement and bouncing
towards 
me. He looked as happy as a child on a sugar high. Maybe he’d had a few too many coffees today. I
looked 
back at Blake. His eyes grew wider as he grinned and shrugged his perfectly rounded shoulders. I saw
how this 
worked. Giggling, I hooked my thumb over my shoulder and whispered to Blake, “Did you know?” He
nodded 
at me and lightly jogged up the stairs before he could incriminate himself further. 
“Ronan, this is incredible. You even got a tree. How adorably festive of you.” I smiled, placing my iPod
on 
the table. Scanning the room, I noticed strands of white lights and glittering silver and red bows. Clear
vases 
were filled with cinnamon sticks, pine cones, fake snow and holly berries. Red and white candles were
every- 
where, held up on shiny silver holders. A cranberry wreath with a giant three-wick candle sat on the
coffee table, 
and the prettiest shade of green garland dusted lightly with fake snow covered every doorframe. The
penthouse 
looked like page twenty-two of the Crate and Barrel winter catalog. I loved it. 
“Do you like it my beauty?” Ronan’s eyes were beaming with suspense. 
“I love it. It’s simply fantastic.” 
He kissed my lips, placing his hands on each side of my face. Completely overwhelmed by Ronan’s 
romantic gesture, I mercilessly surrendered my mouth to his, allowing him to brush his tongue with
mine, 
landing sweet slick movements that made my heart flutter. I pulled back, wrapping my arms around his
waist. 
As we stood there together taking in all of the wonderful happy people decorating, turning the
penthouse into 
our romantic little Christmas palace, I smiled, hugging Ronan tighter. This man, this handsome
delectable 
man, had somehow made me feel again, to want to feel again, and that excited and terrified me at all
once. 
  
After my shower I found the penthouse was quiet once again except for the lull of soft music coming
from 
the living room. I peered around the corner to find Ronan playing the piano and singing quietly. I walked
to- 
wards him, and he gazed up at me, smiling without missing a note. 
Outside it was snowing again. Giant snowflakes were falling from the sky, gently bouncing off the win- 
dows. The fireplace was crackling and the smell of cinnamon and pine filled every corner of the room.
Ronan 
nodded his head, gesturing at me to sit on the bench with him. Cozying up next to him, I immediately
recog- 
nized the familiar notes he hummed were that of “White Christmas.” I rested my head on his shoulder,
careful 
not to mess him up as he played. 
The tree, our tree, was dazzling with light. The hand-blown vintage glass ornaments added extra shine. I 
wondered if people walking through Central Park could see our tree shining brightly. It was completely
beau- 
tiful. Lowering my gaze to the bottom branches, I noticed a gift under the tree topped with a giant silver
bow. 
Returning my gaze to Ronan, I saw his eyes were closed as he began to sing the chorus softly. That was
incred- 
ibly sexy. 
The gritty rasp of his accent really came through in his singing. I want to rip his clothes off. 
He finished the song and leaned in to kiss me, gently cupping my chin in his hand. 
“That was beautiful Ronan. I didn’t know you could sing.” 
He said nothing as he wrapped his arms around my waist and swiftly lifted me onto his lap. He ran his 
hands up my back and down again, kissing me deeply as his tongue twisted with mine. My body felt as if
it were 
on fire as his hands continued to travel the length of my body. He moved his lips to my neck, running his 
tongue to the base of my throat and back to my chin where he placed feather-light kisses on my jawline.
I 
moaned as he clutched my thighs. He lifted me up, setting me on the top of the piano. 
Is this safe? 
Ronan picked up the remote for the blinds and he hit the button that would shield us from the world.
He 
pulled my black lounge pants from my body, sliding one leg down and then the other slowly. His eyes
never left 
mine as he seduced me, placing me once again under that sexual spell. I could feel my clit begin to
throb, and 
the deep ache within me for Ronan to touch my body returned with a vengeance. He removed my pink
lace boy 
shorts before coaxing me to lie on my back with my feet softly resting on the keys of the piano. 
I tried not to writhe, but when Ronan touched me I instantly wanted to move my body to match his 
rhythm. The keys of the piano played odd notes in no particular order each time he caused me to move.
Grip- 
ping my hips, he pulled me closer to the edge. He was quiet and said nothing, only looking at me
through his 
long lashes, sometimes grinning or giving me a raised eyebrow. I was intoxicated by this man’s sinful
stare. The 
piano was slick, which caused me to continue to slide away from his playful touches, but he kept pulling
me 
back to him. 
He caressed my inner thighs, placing soft kisses on one side and then the other. He kissed my scars, 
which sent shivers through my body and soul. My abdomen tightened and I laid there feeling like I was
being 
pulled in a million directions. 
Pushing a finger into me he said, “Holliday, you’re already soaking wet for me.” 
Releasing a sexy growl, he dipped his head in between my legs, devouring my pussy. 
“Oh God… fuck… oh God…” 
I moaned and sputtered out garbled expletives, unable to resist the way he lashed his tongue over my
slick 
slit so sensually. It was some sort of erotic magic the way Ronan dipped his tongue and worked his
fingers. It 
was truly a masterful art form of pleasure. Cutting through my whimpering sex-filled cries that were
filling the 
room, I heard Ronan say the sexiest thing that nearly made me come undone right then. 
“God’s not the one twisting his tongue in and out of your beautiful cunt— Ronan is.” His seductive
words 
rang in my ears over and over. 
With a wicked lash of his tongue to my clit, I cried out, “Yes… Ronan.” 
He began to suck harder— my knees trembled and I squirmed. The keys on the piano went wild. I tried 
desperately not to move my feet. He gripped my ankles, holding me in place as his tongue gently
caressed the 
length of my sex, driving me out of my mind. I thought I was going to burst when he continued rimming
me 
with delicate thrusts, making me beg shamelessly for him to bring me to orgasm. 
“Ronan, please… can you… I need to come.” 
“Not yet, my beauty… I’ll take care of you.” Just hearing the smoky tone of his Irish brogue was turning
me 
on. I didn’t know how much more I could endure. 
He continued to tease and torture me, twisting his tongue and licking me feverishly. Blood pooled in my 
stomach like hot lava as his tongue fluttered wildly against my sensitive clit. I couldn’t take it anymore.
He knew 
I was climbing. He eased his finger into me, stroking me gently while sucking the innermost part of my
sex, 
licking every inch of my walls. His mouth possessed me, driving me to the brink of orgasm. 
“Come for me Holliday. I want to watch your gorgeous body unravel in pleasure,” he rasped. 
His finger pushed into me harder. Quickly he pulled it out, replacing it with his tongue, plunging into me 
wildly and licking until I came unhinged. I convulsed around Ronan’s soft wet tongue and screamed out
his 
name. He went back for more. I couldn’t take it. I fisted his locks on the top of his head, desperate to
push him 
away. 
“Ronan, I can’t take it, the vibrations are too much… I’m too tender,” I panted, my body in total sexual 
shock. 
He placed his finger to his mouth and gently licked it. “You taste sweet, baby,” he purred. 
Fuck me. That’s hot. 
I sat up, trying to regain my breathing. Ronan playfully tossed me my panties and helped me put them 
back on. He slid me off the piano and placed me back to the floor. I pulled on my pants and he playfully 
slapped me on the bottom. I turned to glare at him, but I think we both knew that I liked it. 
“Do you mind if I kiss you or do you need me to brush my teeth?” he chuckled. 
I covered his mouth with mine, and he growled, kissing me deeply with long slow slides to my mouth. 
“Does that answer your question?” 
He grinned and kissed me again. “How was your day dear?” 
“Good, I had great workout. Blake is nice. Did you know he’s from Texas?” 
Ronan led me to the couch where we sat and gazed at the tree, his arms wrapped around my shoulders
as 
I lay on his chest. “My dear, I know everything about Blake, or I wouldn’t have hired him.” 
“Oh, really? Well, since you know so much, did you know that there are pictures of us all over the inter- 
net?” 
“Yes, my beauty.” He looked at me and ran his hands through my hair. “Does that bother you?” 
I shook my head. “Does it bother you?” 
“No, as long as you’re happy, I’m happy. And as long as they don’t print any lies.” 
“So much for your brilliant plan to keep my name out of the papers, Connolly,” I teased. 
Ronan laughed. “About the pictures, what’s the story with you and Grady James? Did you know the
dosser 
before last night?” 
Dosser? That must be Irish slang for douchebag, or something colorful. 
Ronan’s questions burned a bit. I so did not want to tell him the truth. If I lied to him I risked the rela- 
tionship. I shifted gears. Turning to face him, I asked, “What did Grady do to you anyway? You told me to
stay 
away from him.” 
Ronan sighed and lifted my leg across his lap. “He wanted to play Cameron Carlisle. Obviously you know 
who landed the role.” He winked. “He went to the studio making accusations that I was a drug-addicted
rapist 
and should never play this role and that I should be fired immediately because of my conduct. Grady
tried to 
convince the film’s director I was the wrong man for the part.” 
Shock rushed over me. I pulled away. Ronan gently pulled me back to him. 
“My beauty, I assure you I am not a drug addict or a rapist.” He shot me a serious look. “I’ve only ever 
smoked weed and tried cocaine a few times during my modeling days.” 
“What’s Grady’s proof? Why would he accuse you of such heinous things for a movie role?” 
Ronan shook his head. “Honestly I have no idea. There has been speculation that he’s about to be fired 
from several fashion campaigns and is deeply in debt. Grady hasn’t had a movie role in a long time. I
guess 
he’s become difficult to work with, and his PR team ditched him because of his ego. There’s lots of
history be- 
tween Grady and me. He wanted the Velocity campaign, and I landed that one too.” 
“So basically he’s jealous of you.” 
Ronan nodded and said, “That’s the only thing I can think of, my beauty.” 
“Who does Grady think you raped?” 
Ronan sighed deeply, his broad shoulders rolled down. “Heather.” 
“What? Why?” I flew up off the couch. Anger shot through me. 
“One of the rumors I heard was that she told Grady that I laced her coffee and drinks with drugs, trying
to 
get her fired or some bullshit about me wanting to outshine her in scenes. Complete bollocks. Heather
was my 
co-star, and I needed her at her best so I could be at mine,” he said, shaking his head. “It makes no sense
to 
me.” 
“Did you ever ask Heather about it?” 
“Yes. She said that Grady would never say something like that, and she never felt threatened by me on
set.” 
Damn. Well, I was inclined to agree with Heather on that statement about Grady. I really can’t see him 
being a gossip hound or lying for that matter. What would motivate someone start that rumor? 
“Sounds like a bunch of shitty hearsay.” I huffed, crossing my arms. “Hollywood.” I shook my head. “And 
now you’re doing this new movie with her. I thought Heather looked good at the gala for just being out
of rehab 
for her heroin addiction.” 
Ronan stood. “My beauty, she wasn’t in rehab for heroin.” 
“What do you mean?” 
“She was pregnant and she lost her baby. Heather went crazy and tried to kill herself.” 
My mouth dropped open. “Whose baby did she lose? I didn’t know she was dating anyone. Oh my God 
was it Grady’s?” 
“No.” Ronan hung his head. “It was mine.” 
I let out a gasp. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Coldness rushed over me. I stood there in shock. My
heart 
was pounding in my chest. 
“Holliday, are you with me?” Ronan gripped my arms firmly. I flinched back. “Holliday, please do not
freak 
out.” 
“Freak out! How can I not freak out?” 
“I understand this is very shocking for you and I get that. I do. Listen, Heather and I were engaged.” 
Jesus Christ! What? When? 
“Ronan, I’m going to have a panic attack if you don’t stop dropping these bombs on me.” 
“Please Holliday. Give me the chance to be completely honest with you. If it’s too much, I won’t tell you 
anymore. Hollywood is a lot like high school— it’s filled with rumors, gossip and drama, and that’s just
off- 
screen.” He smiled warmly. I could tell he was trying to make me feel better. I let out a soft laugh, but
the tears 
came too. Not really understanding why I was crying, I inhaled a deep cleansing breath and counted to
ten. I 
seriously had not cried so much or had such emotional intense feelings since I could remember. Ronan
went to 
get me some water. When he returned my breathing was controlled and my heartbeat was steady. 
“Ronan, oh my God, with our collective baggage we’re going to emotionally kill each other.” He looked
at 
me with confusion. I just blurted it out, “I fucked Grady James relentlessly for an entire summer.”
Stiffening my 
body, I closed my eyes and yelled, “Fuck!” I felt better just getting it out in the open. 
Ronan’s eyes narrowed, he sucked in a breath, walked to the bar and poured a drink. He slammed it
back 
even though earlier he had warned me to sip the warm liquid. 
“Here we go Holliday!” he yelled. “We’ve unleashed Pandora’s Box, and now we have to get it all out.” 
He poured a drink and slid it down the bar to me. I picked it up and slammed it. 
“If this is how the Irish solve problems and communicate, I’m in. Sorry baby, but I fucked Grady James
for 
about six months… everywhere.” I slid the glass back to him. 
He picked it up and poured more of the liquid beverage into it and then slammed it back. “I was
engaged 
to Heather Young. We fucked like bunnies. I loved and hated every minute of it. The sex was…” His voice
broke. 
Ronan knew better than to finish that sentence with me in arm’s length of him. 
“The studio encouraged it and our agents set us up.” He slid the glass back to me filled with more of the 
warm, dark brown liquid. 
“I’m a natural blonde.” I took a sip and slid the glass back to him. 
He let out a soft chuckle and took a sip. “Heather and I were supposed to announce our engagement
the 
night before the Emmys so that our big news would trend with the TV industry’s biggest night. We were
walking 
the red carpet together because she was nominated for her guest role in Common Place.” He sent the
glass sail- 
ing down the bar again, and following suit, I slammed it back. 
“I’m adopted. My dad, Jay Prescott, died of a heart attack when I was eleven. After he died we found out
we 
were nearly penniless. He was a closet alcoholic and drug addict. The days after his death were a super
fun 
time.” I sent the glass sailing back to Ronan who was standing there wide-eyed, and my own eyes were
starting 
to glaze over from the alcohol. 
“Holliday,” he said softly. “I’m sorry about your father. Do you want to talk about it?” 
“No, not right now,” I replied coldly, still in shock from the bombshell news about Heather and Ronan.
“I 
want to know about your engagement to Heather.” 
He shoved his hands through his hair and let out a deep sigh. “As I’m sure you know, Heather and I
ended 
up not attending the Emmy’s that night. Heather lost the baby the day before. It was truly awful. I
stayed with 
her a few days after the miscarriage, but when I tried to leave she went nuts.” 
“Oh God, Ronan. I am so sorry.” 
He scrubbed his hands down his face, “I was able to calm her down and get her to take a nap. Her maid 
found her unconscious lying on the bathroom floor an hour or so later. I guess she tried to down a bottle
of 
pills with vodka.” 
“That’s awful. I am sure that only fueled the accusations that you tried to drug her.” 
Ronan shrugged, “And I felt horrible because I really never wanted to be with her, not married anyway.
I 
didn’t love her. I wasn’t about to marry someone for the sake of a child again.” 
“Jesus, Ronan,” I began, my voice was strangled. “You’re swept up in this bizarre fucking weird world. 
How… how can I even be in it with you when marriages and babies are like business transactions?” 
“Let’s make it work,” he said. His eyes looked tired, but he seemed happy, probably because he was a
little 
drunk. I figured this was as good a time as any to bring up my ex. But my plan was diverted by Ronan’s
voice. 
“Oh! I have a gift for you, my beauty.” 
“But it’s not Christmas yet.” 
“This gift simply can’t wait.” He reached under the tree and grabbed the long rectangular box. He
handed it 
to me, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. Lifting the lid, I reached inside to find papers and a document
of 
some kind. I read: AGREEMENT TO PURCHASE REAL ESTATE. I scanned the document. Ronan was
thinking 
of purchasing a penthouse in Manhattan at The Addison, which was only a few blocks from the hotel. 
“You’re buying the penthouse at The Addison?” 
“I bought the penthouse at The Addison, baby.” 
“Holy shit Ronan! You’re moving to New York?” I checked the paperwork. It was signed and dated. 
“Yes. I’ve made arrangements for the girls to move here and go to school. They’ll have a new nanny 
though. Ruth wants to retire in a few months. And I put my house in Los Angeles on the market. I’m
going to 
rent a place there and move my permanent address to Manhattan.” 
“Ronan, oh my, I hope you didn’t do all this for me.” 
“Holliday, it makes sense. My parents live in London, shorter flight. I’m shooting my next movie here,
and 
it gets me closer to you. Besides, I can also work on real estate projects for my dad in my free time.” 
“Real estate projects?” I shot him a confused look. 
“I told you my dad’s a developer. He owns a few buildings here in the city. I also like doing the work. I 
have several investment properties here, in Los Angeles and London.” 
It suddenly occurred to me that there was so much I had yet to discover about this man. Obviously
Ronan 
had many passions in his life. It was either that, or he had a back-up plan in case his career in the
entertainment 
industry fizzled out. I could definitely see Ronan as a powerful business mogul. He spoke about things
with 
such affection and excitement. It was easy to see why he had been so successful. It was like everything
he 
touched turned to gold. Luck of the Irish perhaps? No, no luck needed. He was truly talented. 

Chapter Twelve
 
A call from the front desk jolted me from my sleep. The ringing of the phone was making my head
pound. 
It was a bit after four, and I had a terrible headache. Ronan answered the call, and all I heard was,
“Okay. Please 
send him up.” 
I wondered if Ronan felt as bad as I did. I climbed out of bed and went to the bathroom. As I stood there 
brushing my teeth, I heard the door open and some mumbling of voices. Crossing the bedroom to the
living 
room, I saw Ronan opening a large manila envelope. 
“Hey babe, do you have any ibuprofen anywhere?” I asked softly. 
“Oh, my beauty, you’ve got a bad dose of it. You should just drink more whiskey, or I’d be happy to fuck 
the hangover out of your system,” he grinned. 
His mood was overly chipper. Obviously he was not feeling as bad as I was. Jerk. 
“Uhmm, no, I shouldn’t and that sounds tempting, but I don’t want to vomit on you.” I sighed as I col- 
lapsed onto the couch. 
He laughed that sexy gritty chuckle that I found irresistible. “Here you go. Drink this and take this.” He 
handed me a cup of warm tea and a pill. 
The beverage soothed my throat that felt a little raw from the burn of the whiskey. “What is this?” 
“It’s a B12 vitamin. It will help you get over the hangover quickly. I know some crazy Irish drinkers. They 
tell you to have two raw eggs for breakfast, two for lunch or a full Irish breakfast to cure what ails you.
People 
claim eating eggs neutralizes the alcohol in your system.” 
I made a sour face. “Ronan, please stop talking about eggs and alcohol, or I really will vomit. The tea is 
just fine.” I took another sip. “What are you reading?” 
“The magazine sent over a preview of my interview. I’m checking the facts, my quotes, basically making 
sure everything is on the up and up for printing. You can read it too if you’d like.” 
“Okay that sounds like fun. I’d love to read it.” 
He smiled at me affectionately. I studied his lips and the curve of his jaw. God, I think I just might love 
this man. I watched him quietly as he perused the article. He sat there, intently reading, making a few
changes 
on yellow sticky notes and placing them on the pages. 
“Here you go. Most everything looks good. The article is quite nice.” He handed me the papers, kissed
me 
on the forehead and said he was going to take a shower. 
Feeling less lightheaded, I began reading as I sipped some more of my tea. The introduction was well
writ- 
ten, praising Ronan for his work in These Streets of Dublin and touching on his philanthropic work. Of
course 
the main focus of the article was about Ronan playing the dashing Cameron Carlisle. I continued to scan
the 
pages, finding two questions that immediately captured my attention. 
Q: DO YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND OR ARE YOU DATING ANYONE? 
HIS ANSWER: I HAVE MET SOMEONE VERY SPECIAL. SO, YES YOU COULD SAY THAT I AM DATING 
SOMEONE. 
Q: IS SHE IN THE BUSINESS? 
HIS ANSWER: IF YOU’RE REFERRING TO SHOWBIZ, NO. SHE’S IN THE FASHION BUSINESS. 
Ronan had done this interview before he’d met me. How could these be his answers? I hoped he was
talk- 
ing about me. Seeing him admit that he was off the market brought a smile to my face, and warmth
seeped 
through my entire body. Closing my eyes, I pressed the stack of papers to my chest while images of the
last few 
days crept through my mind. My feelings for Ronan were intense, like nothing I had ever experienced.
Every- 
thing about him made me crave him— his touch, his kiss and just the way he made me feel. The sound
of the 
shower turning off released me from my daydream bordering between bliss and lust. 
Ronan returned smelling oh so deliciously clean, his natural scent working a number on my senses. I
think 
he wanted to grow his facial hair back. He didn’t shave. Clean shaven or a little scruffy, I’d take him
either way. 
Sitting beside me on the couch, he kicked his legs up onto the coffee table and crossed his ankles. I
noticed the 
grey lounge pants hugging his strong thighs. The navy blue t-shirt made his eyes appear a deeper shade
of 
green. Ronan must have a plethora of those pima cotton t-shirts. I loved when he wore his comfy clothes
just 
as much as those expertly tailored suits. God, why does he always look so fucking handsome? He could
be cov- 
ered in mud, and I wouldn’t mind being all over his body. Smiling, I ran my fingers through his damp
locks. 
“Did you like the article, my beauty?” 
“Yes, especially the part about how you’ve met someone special.” 
“I see.” He leaned in, wrapped his arms around me and kissed me. Muttering against my cheek, he said,
“I 
have met someone incredibly special.” 
“So how did this happen? You met me the day of the photo shoot, which, by the way, I cannot wait to
see 
those pictures.” 
Ronan leaned back, throwing his arm above his forehead. I noticed his sleeve fall slightly, revealing
more 
of his toned arm. “Yeah, I called Lydia and asked her to change my answers. She obliged, of course,
because 
it’s almost as if I gave her an exclusive comment on my dating life.” 
“I thought you didn’t date.” I smirked. 
“You’re cute, Holliday. I’ll be sure to get you a copy when the article comes out next month,” he smiled. 
“How are you feeling?” He stroked my arm gently with the back of his hand. 
“Much better than I was earlier, thank you.” 
“Do you feel well enough to eat something? Do you want to order dinner soon?” 
“Yeah, you order whatever you want. I’ll eat anything you pick.” 
“Your wish is my command.” He leaned up and kissed me deeply. His fingers curled around the back of 
my head as he playfully fisted my brunette waves. “Natural blonde, huh?” 
I nodded. “I changed my hair color when I got to New York. I’m not sure I’ll ever go back to blonde.” 
“I understand. I quite like the brunette— it’s warm just like you,” he said, kissing me on the cheek. He
left 
the room, and I heard him on the phone ordering some Thai food from a place around the corner. 
  
I laid in bed reading, but I became distracted when I found Ronan on the floor doing crunches. He
slipped 
his shirt off and began again. “Enjoying the view, my beauty?” he asked between panting breaths,
catching my 
stare. 
I nodded. “Yes, it’s quite lovely. Some might even say alluring, definitely sexy.” 
“Are you trying to flatter me, Holliday?” 
I shrugged, biting my bottom lip. His gaze sparked a fire in me that raced through my blood. 
He quickly switched to push-ups. Watching him raise and lower himself reminded me what it was like to 
have him on top of me, moving his cock inside me. My ache and need for his body was almost
animalistic. I 
was completely enthralled watching all the muscles in his hardened upper body expand and contract.
After 
Ronan did about a hundred push-ups, he jumped up and went into the bathroom. I could see his
reflection in 
the mirror as he washed his face. He crossed the room, making his way back towards me with that
mischievous 
grin before sitting on the bed. Something raw blazed in his gaze. I was locked into his stare, unable to
form 
words. Ronan was thinking hard about something. I could see it in his expression. He licked his bottom
lip, 
running his hand the length of my leg. 
“Beauty, show me how you pleasure yourself.” 
“Ronan,” I blushed. “What?” I was giggling. I know men are visually stimulated, so watching a woman
mas- 
turbate in front of them is an incredible turn-on. 
“Don’t be shy. Show me. I want to see you make yourself come.” His jade eyes darkened with lust. My 
body buzzed as if ignited by electric sparks. I’d never masturbated in front of any of my partners. 
“I’ve never done this for anyone before, Ronan.” I dropped my head and knotted my fingers. 
“Are you ashamed of your body?” 
“No. I’m a little embarrassed maybe and nervous that it won’t be sexy.” I laughed. Ronan grinned at me 
sweetly. 
“It will be sexy because you’re sexy. I won’t force you to do it, but if you ever want to I’d love to watch
you.” 
I wanted desperately to please Ronan, not out of need but out of sheer desire. If this was the kind of
thing 
he was into, I guessed I could indulge him. Maybe I could make him come without even touching him. 
My cheeks burned as I slowly fluttered my fingertips over my arms and across my abs, caressing my
body. 
Closing my eyes, I drew on the memory of Ronan fucking me the first time. All the passion and lust came
rush- 
ing into clear view, and I could feel my body getting wet for him. When my hands reached my thighs, I
pushed 
in with my fingers. A low whimper escaped me when my fingers brushed over the outside of my damp
panties. I 
wasn’t surprised to find that I was desperately wet and hot— my body responded instantly as if Ronan
was 
actually touching me. 
I could see his fingers flexing, gripping the white comforter tightly. He shifted his body, adjusting
himself. 
“Holliday, are you wet?” Ronan asked, his voice darkly hot. “Do you feel how wet you are? I know that
silky 
little cunt of yours is slick and hot— tell me how wet you are.” 
Squeezing my eyes shut tight, I rolled my head back to the soft tufted headboard. I slid down into the
mat- 
tress, my shoulders enveloped into the numerous plush pillows. Taking my index finger, I plunged inside
and 
gasped. I heard Ronan inhale deeply. 
“I… I am wet Ronan, so very wet for you,” I moaned. 
“Good… I’m so very glad to hear that. Now imagine my beauty… those fingers are mine… and I’m slowly 
stroking you, playing your beautiful body to that perfect rhythm.” 
Finding my g-spot, I began running my middle and ring fingers in slow smooth circles. I could tell my 
body was rising. I felt my muscles convulse. 
“Ronan, yes… your fingers… please… please touch me.” 
My eyes flicked open, and I caught Ronan’s smoldering stare. Holy fuck. My mind was dizzying as I 
brought my body closer to orgasm. Not in a million years could I have ever imagined how much I would
enjoy 
seeing Ronan’s face come alive at the sight of me working my own body. This man was everything to
me, and 
being everything to me made me vulnerable. In this moment, however, I felt as if I was in control, like I
might 
own him. 
“My beauty,” his deep sexy voice broke through my thoughts. “I’d love nothing more than to touch you 
right now, but I’m enjoying the view. I’m thinking about how slick you are for me and how I’m going to
slide 
right in and I’m not going to be gentle.” 
His smooth words poured over me like a hypnotic oral seduction, pulling me closer to the edge. The
pres- 
sure continued to build inside me as I rhythmically caressed my throbbing clit. Lost to everything, I
couldn’t 
help but smile, knowing that Ronan was probably going out of his mind from the heat of a straining
erection. 
“Ronan, please,” I panted breathlessly. 
“Please what?” 
“I… want… Ronan.” I could only manage to groan his name in pleasure. I was rapidly approaching
release 
and secretly hoped he would slide between my legs, pushing his cock deep inside, taking me over the
edge with 
an epic orgasm. 
“Holliday, concentrate… spread your legs wider… pull your panties to the side… I want to see more… let 
me see you.” 
My fingers went to work, moving aside the black lace, giving Ronan the view he wanted. I heard a
guttural 
moan escape his lips. His stare was heated, full of desire. 
“God, you are stunning. Do you like me watching you play with yourself?” he asked. 
“Yes,” I replied as my fingers continued to work their magic against my body. My heart pounding in my 
ribcage, I ran my finger the length of my pussy a few times and then back to my g-spot where my fingers
moved 
in fast circles. Everything went tight in my body, and I shattered. The radiating pulses were intense,
making me 
cry out. I was sure all of Manhattan could hear my moans. 
I lay there, eyes closed, my body buzzing with waves of spasms, not sure if I was ever going to regain my 
composure. Breathing hard, but calm, I opened my eyes and there was Ronan. His eyes were blazing and
elec- 
tric. A smile crossed his firm lips. Grabbing me by the back of my head, he leaned in, capturing my
mouth with 
his, consuming me in a deep kiss that nearly had me coming again. 
In a swift smooth motion, Ronan freed the lace camisole from my body. Air rushed over me, cooling my 
overly heated skin. My muscles, still sensitive from my orgasm, caused me to wince in pain as Ronan
eagerly 
palmed and devoured each of my breasts. He was building me up again, and his hot wet mouth felt so
good on 
my body. 
He pinned me underneath his frame, and his tongue worked its way from my chest to my neck. My
palms 
slid down his chest, pushing my fingers into the waistband of his pants. He dipped his head, rolling his
tongue 
over my nipples, licking and sucking one while pulling and twisting the other. 
His pants came off quickly, and he rocked into me with his hips. As he gripped me tightly, I could feel
the 
length of him against my thigh. Shifting up on his knees, he slid my panties from my body. I gasped as he
slid a 
second finger into my stirring body, expertly finger fucking me. Feeling my orgasm building, I writhed in
plea- 
sure as heat rushed over my body in strong waves. 
Hovering over me, Ronan pulled back a bit, gently tapping my clit with his cock. 
I arched my hips, panting, “Ronan, please fuck me.” 
“You want my cock inside of you, Holliday?” 
“Yes, Ronan, I need you inside me.” 
“Does your pussy ache a little bit?” he breathed, while teasing me with his finger. 
“Ronan… just… please,” I begged. 
“Yes, my beauty,” he growled. “Tell me what you want.” 
“I… I want you… please… all of you.” 
Lifting me off the bed, he pulled me into him. We were eye to eye. Leaning in, he grabbed the back of
my 
neck, forcefully pulling me into another deep heated kiss. I moaned into his mouth. I never wanted him
to stop 
kissing me— ever. Breaking our kiss, Ronan flipped me to my knees. I was wide open for him and on all
fours. 
My hands fisted the pillows below, and I felt Ronan’s fingertips whisper down my back. With both hands
grip- 
ping me tightly at the hips, he shoved into me with ease. 
He hovered over my back. I felt his breath as he ran the soft pad of his thumb over my clit in smooth, 
small circles. His low pleasurable moans washed over me as he placed soft plush kisses between my
shoul- 
ders. 
“Your skin is so smooth… luminous... you’re incredibly beautiful, Holliday.” 
His pace quickened. I could hardly keep up. He continued to pound into me as my knees buckled and I 
lost control. My hands slipped, and my face hit the pillow. He drove deeper and I came undone around
him. 
The pulses were overwhelming, and I felt light as a feather as my clit reeled from the onslaught of
vibrations. I 
screamed into the pillow. Cursing and calling my name, Ronan slammed into me with brute force. I felt
him 
pumping into me. He wilted, letting his chest hit my back as he wrapped both arms around my waist. 
He eased out of me, and I crumbled to the bed in a heap. I gasped in pure delight, trying to regain my 
breathing. Ronan kissed the curve of my body and then dropped to his side cradling me in his arms. 
“Jesus Ronan. You’re unbelievable.” 
I could feel him panting. His chest was rising and falling at a brisk pace against my back. “My beauty, 
watching you finger yourself was the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced in my life.” He paused, sucking
in a few 
sharp breaths. “I thought I wasn’t going to be able to control my urges long enough for you to finish.
Thank 
fuck I did because that was incredibly… undeniably erotic.” 
“It was for me too. I loved watching your face. I thought you might pass out at one point.” 
“Fuck that, I was bound and determined to get my cock inside your sweet cunt.” 
“Ronan,” I wailed. “Don’t be crude.” I slapped his arm playfully. 
“Baby, I’m Irish. That’s a word used lightly and often in my culture. I won’t use it anymore if it offends 
you.” 
I couldn’t help but laugh. He was right. I needed to be a bit worldlier and maybe even slightly less
conser- 
vative in my thinking. It was just between the two of us anyway. It’s not like he was making videos of us.
Videos! 
Oh shit. 
“Ronan, do you trust me?” 
“Of course, why do you ask?” 
I turned to face him, blinking my eyes, trying to hold back the tears. 
“Beauty, what’s wrong?” He pulled himself up on his forearms. “Why the tears, Holliday?” 
I sobbed while tracing the length of his jaw with my finger. “Ronan, my ex is Derek Saunders,” I sighed
as 
my shoulders slumped. 
Ronan’s mouth pressed into a hard line. He stared at me blankly, “Derek Saunders?” He repeated his 
name. “Derek Saunders?” 
“Yes, and please stop saying his name.” 
Ronan stood, pulling his pants over his hips. Blowing out a breath, he shoved his hands through his hair. 
Staring at me for a few moments, his eyes darkened. Feeling his anger build sent my heartbeat racing. 
I eased up out of the bed and quickly pulled my camisole over my head. Finding my boy briefs and
lounge 
pants, I slid them on at the same time over my hips. 
“Derek Saunders, Holliday? The internet porn guy?” He inched closer, bringing heated confusion. 
I felt empty and ashamed. How the fuck was Ronan Connolly ever going to be able to look at me the
same 
way again? 

Chapter Thirteen
 
“Holliday? What are you trying to tell me? Are you… were you a porn star?” 
I laughed, but quickly retreated my giggles, realizing he was serious. Ronan’s eyes burned into me. 
“No,” I replied calmly. Ronan arched an eyebrow at me. “Hell no! Does my vagina look like I’ve been 
fucked by everyone from here to Canada?” I screamed. 
He crossed the room to the bar, contemplating a drink, but then he placed the bottle down. He turned 
back to me, gripping the bar with his hands. I was shaking, and I felt my heart pounding in my chest as a
cold 
sweat came over my hands. 
“My beau… Holliday,” he began, his tone calm and even. 
My God, this was bad. He couldn’t even call me the nickname he’d affixed to me nearly the second we 
met. My insides began to churn. I felt sick. Well, at least he could look me in the eye. 
“Yes, Ronan,” I said dryly. 
“Tell me about this relationship.” 
“Ronan, he’s not just a porn guy. He’s an entrepreneur of many businesses not just sex.” 
“He’s a pervert with loads of money, and he’s a fucking criminal,” he admonished. 
“I’m not defending him in the least. I’m just saying what the truth is.” 
“Why isn’t this guy behind bars for hurting you?” He threw his hands up. “I don’t understand this Holl- 
iday.” 
Ronan ran his hand over the curve of his jaw and covered his mouth. I said nothing. I knew the other
shoe 
was about to drop. Charlotte was right— this was going to be a fight. 
“Jesus Christ Holliday!” He yelled sharply. “What did you get yourself into in another life? What have
you 
pulled me into?” His body stiffened as I noticed he was practically snarling. 
“Are you fucking kidding me, you dick?” I glared at him. My sadness had now turned to anger. “You
selfish 
bastard, you’re only thinking of yourself right now and how this affects you.” 
He decided it was time to take that drink. 
“Maybe Grady James was right about you after all,” I snapped. 
“Oh, fuck that, Holliday. Do not even think about turning this around on me,” Ronan warned. 
“Ronan, I went out with him for two years. If you’re worried about the tabloids linking you to Derek
Saun- 
ders’ ex-girlfriend, they won’t be able to make the connection.” 
“I cannot deal with this right now. I cannot believe you would go out with a guy like that.” His accent
thick- 
ened the angrier he became. 
“It’s unfair that you’re judging me like this,” I said flatly. 
He looked at me, absorbing my words, leaning against the bar. The dazzle in his green eyes was gone, as
if 
he was looking right through me. I felt like Ronan was ashamed of me, like I was dirty and soiled just
because I 
went out with Derek Saunders, the President of Side Effects Media. I knew now that it was terrible to get
in- 
volved with him, but at the time I just wanted to feel something exciting. Derek was charming, funny,
and he 
treated me well, until the night that he didn’t. He’d found a way to make money in the industry with
porn. I’m 
making excuses for a capitalist who just happens to be a sadist criminal. There’s something wrong with
that, right? 
“Look Ronan,” I pulled up photos of me with Derek at events and on the red carpet. 
Ronan casually walked towards me and I pointed to the images on my laptop. 
“Whoa, that doesn’t even look like you.” 
“Right? I told you I was a natural blonde. Plus, I wore wigs a lot on the red carpet with Derek. Look at
my 
name: Holli Grace. Every single photo on the internet with Derek and me, I’m labeled as Holli Grace. I
don’t 
exist, well Holli doesn’t exist.” Ronan let out a chuckle looking at the pictures of me wearing a cotton
candy 
pink bobbed wig. “No one will ever make the connection.” 
“Until they do,” he said snidely. 
“I don’t know what to say Ronan. I liked Derek. The guy was a good time, and he seduced me into this 
crazy fast party world in Hollywood. I was young and going through a phase. Ultimately I paid a high
price for 
dating a shady guy.” 
Ronan shot me an annoyed look. “Holliday, I hope you know that you did not get some kind of karmic
jus- 
tice served to you because you dated a smut mogul.” 
“I didn’t until I saw the look on your face, the look of shame and embarrassment. I’m sorry this has hurt 
you. You’re the last person on Earth I’d ever want to be disgusted by me.” I hung my head, biting my
bottom lip 
and trying to choke back the sobs. “I’ll leave.” 
I walked to the closet where all my stuff was hanging and I reached for my suitcase. Ronan gently
grabbed 
my arm and said, “You’re not leaving. Don’t be absurd.” 
My heart jumped. “Ronan, I feel like you can’t even look at me without thinking I’m dirty or something.” 
“My beauty, you’re not dirty,” he said softly. 
Oh thank God, my nickname has returned. 
“Ronan, I… I know the kind of world Derek is involved in. It’s the deep seedy underbelly of Hollywood,
and 
his connections are all over the world. He’s into shit that you can’t even imagine.” 
“Then why the fuck were you with him? Because he was fun?” His voice was filled with anger. 
“Ronan.” My voice became strangled as I sobbed through my words. “Isn’t that exactly why you were
with 
Emma, because she was fun and hot?” I wiped away the tears with the back of my hand. 
He shot back a look of anger at me. Ronan knew I was right, and so I kept pushing. “Jesus Christ Ronan, 
you married her! Not to mention you had two kids with her.” I may have crossed the line by bringing
Jade and 
Leah into this conversation. “So I don’t think you are in any kind of position to judge me,” I warned. 
Ronan glanced at me and said nothing, but his face began to soften. 
I hung my head. “When I was younger I had this need to push myself to the limits. I had a thing… I had a 
thing for danger and losing control. Nothing serious. What can I say except I liked fast cars, a good time
and 
bad boys.” He rolled his eyes at me. “I still like having a good time… correction… a nice time and I do
love fast 
cars, but my bad boy phase is over.” 
“So, what, you were just out of control or something and needed a rush?” 
“Something like that. I needed to see how far I could take a thrill. It was euphoric. About a year and a
half 
into my relationship with Derek I was bored with it. I tried to leave him, but he said I was his good luck
charm.” 
“His good luck charm?” 
“I was a pretty young girl with a rocking body. Men liked being in my company. I got them to trust me.
It’s 
no secret that Derek throws a hell of a party. He knows how to entertain and charm people. When
clients or 
businessmen would want to know where to find the hottest girls in Los Angeles who were down to fuck,
Derek 
would send me to the clubs to make the introductions.” 
“So you were what, a fucking call girl liaison?” His words hit me like nails on a chalkboard. It was grating, 
and I still felt like he saw me as less of the person I was. 
“I was. How do you know that term?” I shot back. 
“There are rumors that these types of services are available. People say that the girls are insanely
beautiful, 
like innocent girl next door types. They don’t act like whores,” he acknowledged. “Plus the services are
rather 
inexpensive and you can opt for repeat business only at your choosing. Way less risky than having your
name 
on the books with the Hollywood Madame.” 
“If there’s a black book of client names…” There is. “Or money being traded…” It was. “For the record I 
know nothing about that. I’m not naïve. Do you understand what I’m saying, Ronan?” 
Please God tell me he gets what I am trying to say. His eyes widened and he nodded at me. “Do you
want 
me to continue telling you the details?” I asked. 
Ronan nodded again. I could tell he was cautiously curious. 
I continued disclosing the truth of everything I knew to Ronan as he stepped closer to me. 
“We’d go out and party, and I would just happen to introduce these men to a random person or an ac- 
quaintance, who just happened to be on Derek’s payroll. The rumors are true. These girls didn’t look or
act like 
prostitutes. They were usually college girls trying to pay their way through school. Derek and his
associates 
would use the same hotel for all of the liaisons –Derek’s hotel. It’s filled with cameras. The encounters
were all 
taped. If Derek needed to he would use it as blackmail later, threatening to send a copy to their wives or
girl- 
friends. If they were a celebrity…” I dropped my eyes to the floor. “He’d threaten to leak the tapes to
the press. 
From what I know, Derek’s inner circle with this was tight as fuck. He never got caught, and the police
were 
never on to him for it.” 
“Holliday, this sounds like a script to a movie. This is fucking bizarre.” 
I approached Ronan slowly. He sat his drink down at the bar, turned and clutched my upper arms.
Search- 
ing my face, he said, “I’m glad you told me this, and I’m sorry I yelled. But this guy should be in jail.” 
I sighed. “Derek’s pockets are deeper than mine, and I couldn’t sit across from him and his buddies in a 
court room and endure it. Derek would fight me every day with everything he had. I couldn’t run the risk
of him 
having something on me that might cause me to go to jail.” 
He hugged me tightly. “I’m sorry I had no idea you were carrying around so much…” 
“Baggage?” I replied sharply. “I hope you can understand that I just don’t want one horrid tragedy to
define 
me or my life.” 
He sighed, pushing my hair away from my face, and then he brushed his lips to mine. That sparkle had
re- 
turned to his beautiful eyes. “I understand Holliday. He’ll never touch you. Your secret is safe with me.” 
  
I was wide-awake, lying in bed and staring at the ceiling. It was nearly one in the morning. It was Friday,
my 
last day with Ronan, the man I might be in love with, which was completely crazy. I had shared more
with this 
man than any other previous relationship I’d been in. Why? I was normally so closed off when it came to
men 
and relationships. He made it effortlessly easy for me to be honest, to let my guard down, but at the
same time 
it scared the living shit out of me. Ronan slept silently next to me. I checked to see if his chest was still
moving. 
I touched his face softly. 
“I love you, Ronan Connolly,” I whispered. 
He didn’t move. I closed my eyes and drifted peacefully to sleep. 
  
“I don’t have to explain my personal life to you Emma. We’re not married any longer, remember? No,
you 
have no right to ask me questions or even question any of my romantic relationships for that matter.”
Ronan’s 
tone was sharp, his jaw tight. He remained calm, just firm enough to establish his point while on the
phone 
with Emma. 
“Our daughters are always on my mind when I choose to introduce them to someone special… Oh
really, 
Emma… that’s rich coming from you… Martin is quick with his temper. The guy threatened the
gardeners in 
front of the girls.” His voice was raised now. Ronan was growing angrier with Emma by the minute.
“Because 
they told me that Dax was mad at the lawn mowing man and said bad words to him… Conversation over
Emma. 
The girls are moving to New York and you’ll just have to deal with it. Goodbye.” Ronan threw his phone
across 
the room. Thankfully it hit the back of the couch and bounced to the carpet without hitting anything
breakable. 
I was genuinely not looking forward to meeting Emma Bailey-Wilson, but I’d deal with her for Ronan. I 
thought I might walk through fire for him. I inched towards him slowly as he let out a deep sigh.
Wrapping his 
arms around me, he said, “I’m sorry you had to hear that, my beauty.” 
“The conversation was a little heated between the two of you.” 
“Yeah, Emma isn’t on board with me moving to the city and taking the girls.” 
“Well, it’s understandable. She is their mother.” 
“No, Emma’s just mad because it inconveniences her life. She’s upset because she’ll have to rearrange
her 
schedule and make more of an effort to be their mother. Our daughters are an afterthought for her.
Emma’s sta- 
tus and fame mean more to her than anything else.” 
He pulled away and walked to the bar where he lifted a bottle of San Pellegrino to his lovely lips, taking
a 
few sips. He must have run his hands through his hair the entire time he was on the phone because his
curls 
were everywhere. I stared at Ronan. He was brooding and sexy, and I wanted to pull him from his
gloomy state. 
“I’m sorry Ronan. I cannot imagine how that makes you feel.” 
“It’s all right.” He inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m just sorry you have to hear me deal
with 
my crazy ex-wife.” 
Reaching for my hand, Ronan gently pulled me into his strong frame. I hugged him tightly, and he kissed 
the top of my head. Leaning back, he brushed his lips to mine. My lips parted and our tongues found
each 
other with gentle soft twists. I ran my hands through Ronan’s luscious dark curls, hoping to tame the
wildly 
tousled tresses. Really I just loved running my hands through his hair. Breaking our kiss, Ronan just
stared at 
me for a few moments, brushing the tips of his fingers from my forehead over my cheeks and to my
chin. My 
breathing hitched; unable to speak, I was lost to everything, not sure what he would say next. 
“Beauty, I don’t want to waste another moment of this day talking about Emma or anything
unpleasant.” 
“When does your flight leave?” 
“I have to be at the airport at three,” he said quietly. 
His words hit me like the weight of a ton of bricks crushing my soul. I desperately wanted Ronan to stay. 
Threading my fingers with his, I realized that I truly didn’t want him to go ever. 
“Come with me, my beauty. Shower with me. I want to bathe every inch of your gorgeous body.” 
Walking backwards, never taking his eyes off of me, Ronan led me to the master bathroom. He pulled
my 
burgundy silk chemise over my head and hung it on the doorknob of the linen closet. Leaning into the
shower, 
he turned on the water, checking the temperature with his hand. His silk blue and green striped pajama
bot- 
toms dropped to the floor. I picked them up and folded them neatly before placing them on the left side
of the 
dual sink marble vanity. 
We stood in the bathroom together, naked and gazing into each other’s eyes. My pulse quickened. My 
breathing was shallow. Lifting me up, Ronan carried me into the shower. Warm water rushed over us as
we 
stood skin to skin under the rain shower, holding onto each other tightly. I felt like I was under a warm
water- 
fall. It made me happy, and I melted into Ronan’s frame. Ronan lifted my chin, bringing my face up to
meet his 
gaze. He covered my mouth with his, sweeping my tongue gently with broad tender strokes. 
“You look sad, my beauty. I can’t stand to see you sad.” 
“I feel like I’m crumbling into a million pieces on the inside. Am I crazy to feel this way?” 
Pressing his lips to my forehead, Ronan replied, “No, crazy would be us never meeting. Crazy would be
me 
breathing another day on this Earth not knowing you existed.” 
“I need you Ronan, so much that it hurts.” 
His hands eased around my face. “You have me. I need you too, more than anyone I’ve ever needed in
my 
entire life.” 
The water rushed over my shoulders and down my back. Every single strand of my hair was thoroughly 
wet. Ronan poured the shampoo into his palms and gently began to massage my aching scalp with his
long fin- 
gers. Pressing his lips to my shoulders and my neck, trailing feather-light kisses across my skin, Ronan’s
atten- 
tions relaxed me completely. Rinsing the shampoo from my hair, I felt soft impeccable kisses up one
cheek and 
down the other side. The overwhelming scents of earthy botanicals tingled through my nose as Ronan
carefully 
combed the conditioner through my hair. There’s that clean scent. It’s Ronan’s conditioner— it drives
me wild. 
Grabbing the white bottle from the inset shelf, I poured a small amount of liquid into my hands and
gently 
worked my fingers through Ronan’s waves, twisting and playing with the curls as I massaged his scalp.
With 
each stroke his damp curls became more defined and fell loosely around his temples. As I finished,
Ronan 
moved me under the hot water, rinsing the conditioner from my hair. Steam filled the room like a gentle
fog 
rolling in. The glass doors of the shower frosted over with the moisture, shielding us from the world. 
I kissed him softly, moving his body closer to mine, and began to rinse the shampoo from his hair. We 
continued our shower, gently caressing and washing each other’s bodies. Our fingers wilted and our skin
red- 
dened. We savored each soft touch, finishing our shower in silence. 
Ronan wrapped me up in a plush white towel as I dried his damp skin with another, slowly moving over 
his broad shoulders, down his back and around to his rippled abs. I kissed across his chest as he weaved
his 
long fingers through my damp waves. I studied his body, making note of every angle and curve. He was
com- 
pletely beautiful. I watched him as he wrapped the towel around his waist. 
“Ronan,” I said softly, gazing lazily up at him. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a glorious body?” 
He laughed a throaty chuckle, sweeping my cheek with his fingertips. “I’ve been told a time or two. Has 
anyone ever told you how absolutely beautiful your eyes are? They are the most alluring shade of blue,
and then 
sometimes they’re light green. I feel like I could swim in them.” 
“Ronan…” I paused, searching his face. His gaze thrilled my body, hypnotizing me under his spell. I be- 
came lightheaded, feeling drunk and a bit weak. Maybe I really was in a trance. 
Ronan brushed my hair off my face and then placed both of his hands on the sides of my cheeks. “I 
know,” he whispered softly, leaning in to kiss me. “I love you too, Holliday Prescott.” 

Chapter Fourteen

Lying on the couch at the Penthouse gazing up at the ceiling, I was all alone, well except that Blake
Foster, 
my personal bodyguard, was upstairs in the office. Ronan left for California a few hours ago. I watched
him 
climb into the back of the black Mercedes, giving me a sexy nod and a waving goodbye. I kept my eye on
the 
shiny car until it was swallowed up into the chaos of the early afternoon traffic. I stood in front of The
York 
Hotel feeling happy yet empty at the same time. Ronan had just told me he loved me only mere hours
before he 
left. I couldn’t believe I found myself loving a man that I had only known a few short days. I loved him so
much 
that every part of my body ached for him. I loved his warm charming personality. He was generous as a
lover, 
and the poetic rhythm of his accent was enough to drive me wildly out of my mind. I could listen to him
talk for 
days. 
The range of emotions I had experienced with Ronan felt like a topsy-turvy spinning roller coaster. Sud- 
denly I was awake for the first time in what felt like years. Every fiber of my being was filled with heated
desire, 
passion, lust and fear, and all I wanted was more… more of everything, more of him. How had I just lived
these 
past few years only going through the motions? But, as glorious as all of this was, was I kidding myself?
Could 
it be real? Or just a moment in time - a few days of thrilling and scary excitement rolled into one? The
moment 
before you hit that first big drop on your favorite coaster, you fall, and then it's over. 
My phone buzzed just as I was getting lost deeper into the thoughts of my past few days with Ronan.
Char- 
lotte had sent me a text asking me if I wanted to come over for dinner, which was appealing, as I was
feeling 
pretty hungry. I texted her back and told her I’d be over within the hour. Pulling myself from the couch, I
told 
Blake that I’d like to go to my sister’s house. He asked if I’d be staying the night or coming back to the
pent- 
house. Part of me wanted to be alone in my own bed and the other part of me wanted to be here
because I felt 
closer to Ronan. Besides, someone needed to water the tree. 
“Blake, I’ll be coming back to the penthouse. You can have the rest of the night off, and I’ll see you back 
here later.” 
“Miss Prescott, you need to call me when you want to be picked up so that I can bring you back here,”
he 
said, pulling on his coat over his thick shoulders. 
“Sorry Blake. I hope you don’t feel like a babysitter. Also, you can just call me Holliday. I don’t mind,” I
of- 
fered as he helped me with my coat. 
“No, Miss Prescott. I don’t feel like a babysitter. I’m just doing the job assigned to me by Mr. Connolly,” 
he said warmly. “But if you don’t mind, I’d prefer to address you as Miss Prescott.” 
I smiled and nodded at him. I had a feeling he wanted to make sure things remained professional
between 
us. I could respect that. 
While Blake whisked me off in the car to my sister’s, my phone began to ring. It was Amelia. I’d
completely 
spaced on returning her call the other day. I wasn’t up for a conversation to hear about her possible
troubles 
with her husband, boring job or her stupid Mommy and me classes. Although, given my current mental
state, I 
could probably commiserate, but I didn’t need any more negative vibes. I just let it go to voicemail. 
It was wonderful to be around Charlotte, Lucan and the twins. I felt like Alexa and Owen had grown so 
much since I’d last seen them a week ago. We started with a small Italian salad topped with salami and
crunchy 
vegetables. Lucan had made fettuccine with wild mushrooms and artichoke hearts served with warm
crusty 
bread as the main course. Everything was incredibly flavorful and spiced just right, causing me to inhale
my 
food. The cuisine at The York was routinely delicious, but I’d really missed Lucan’s home cooking. 
After dinner, Lucan told Charlotte he’d put the twins to bed and do the dishes, giving us girls time to
chat. 
We went into the den where Charlotte poured a bottle of red wine while I lit the fireplace. I took a seat
in one of 
her two oversized oatmeal Belgian linen armchairs and peered at the Manhattan skyline. This was
probably my 
favorite room in her entire place. Charlotte and Lucan’s penthouse was a work of art, a loft style design
with 
floor to ceiling windows and soaring sixteen-foot ceilings. Expansive was too vague of a word to describe
it: 
four bedrooms and five bathrooms with incredible views of the city, three wraparound terraces, a
private ele- 
vator, custom closets and heated floors in the bathrooms were all included. Everything was top of the
line, in- 
cluding all of the flooring and tiles that were hand-cut and imported from Italy. No expense was spared
in reno- 
vating and decorating their home. 
“I’m in love sis,” I said dreamily, running my toes through the soft light brown shag rug underneath my 
feet. 
My sister lifted an eyebrow in my direction as she took a sip of wine. “Oh, what brought you to this
conclu- 
sion sis?” 
I cocked my head at her. “Well, for starters, we basically spent four and a half days holed up in a
romantic 
setting, the penthouse, baring our souls, secrets and bodies to one another.” I stood up and walked to
the win- 
dow, taking a sip of wine. “I feel like I’ve known Ronan forever.” Turning back around to face my sister, I
said, 
“He’s been gone nine hours, but it seems like days. I’m completely miserable and utterly overjoyed at
the same 
time.” 
I admitted to Charlotte that I told Ronan I loved him while he slept and told her about our romantic last 
few hours together where he said he loved me too. Even though I didn’t say it back to him in that
moment, I 
think either he felt it or heard me say it to him when I thought he was sleeping. I told her about the
property at 
The Addison and how Ronan was moving his permanent residence to New York City. My lengthy
admission 
ended with me sharing the few pictures on my phone I had of Leah and Jade and explaining that Ronan
had 
hired Blake to keep me safe while he was away. I must have sounded like a giddy teenage girl in love for
the first 
time. My cheeks hurt, I noticed, when I finally shut up after rambling on about Ronan. 
Walking back to the window, I revealed, “Charlotte, I’m scared. I’ve never felt this way about anyone
be- 
fore. He comes with a lot of baggage, some good and some bad. Then there’s the whole money, power
and sta- 
tus thing. Oh, and he’s a movie star, the cherry on top of the delicious sundae.” I took a breath and then
asked, 
“Should I stop and just accept the past week for what it was, or do I take a leap of faith?” 
I was ready for my sister to tell me I was insane and for her to lecture me for having my head stuck in
the 
clouds, but she didn’t do any of that. She walked over to where I was standing and wrapped her arms
around 
me, giving me a hug. “My dear little sister, I’m afraid you have been bitten by love, and you’ve got it
bad.” She 
pulled back and sighed. “Doesn’t being scared tell you something?” 
I looked at her confused. I could tell she was about to drop one of her inspirational pearls of wisdom on 
my psyche. 
“If you’re scared that should tell you that you are on to something important.” She swept my bangs
away 
from my eyes. “You’re taking a chance, and that frightens you, but if you never take a chance you could
miss 
out on something phenomenal. On the other hand, there is no greater risk than following your heart
because it 
can go either way.” 
Charlotte’s words hit me like waves crashing over my body, pulling me under an emotional riptide. I
didn’t 
know if I felt better or worse. My emotions were all over the place where Ronan was concerned. I think
she 
might have been right about one thing. I felt the fear, but I needed to take a chance on Ronan. He could
either 
be everything I’d been searching for my whole life or just another footnote on the journey to love. I
hoped it 
wasn’t the latter. 
  
Saturday, Charlotte and I had a spa day to get me out of my emotional haze. I’d received one message
late 
the night before from Ronan telling me that he’d arrived safely and was at his home with the girls. He’d
said he 
had a few meetings today but would definitely call me as soon as he could. 
We stepped out of the suite at the Illusions Salon and Spa to find ourselves swarmed by paparazzi.
Blake 
kept them a good ten feet from us while we started to walk. He asked me if I wanted to be
photographed or if I 
wanted him to get rid of them, and I said it was fine. Now was as good a time as any to gain some
experience. 
Charlotte took the lead as she’s dealt with the media on numerous occasions. When she and Lucan had
first 
started dating, she was still modeling. He was the handsome, wealthy Italian businessman who had
connec- 
tions to celebrities and royalty, and she was the stunning American fashion model. They’d dealt with
their share 
of rumors created by the tabloids, including the one where Lucan’s ex, socialite Imogen Goddard, and he
were 
spotted chatting at an event. Imogen had tripped and fallen into him, and the media had caught Lucan
holding 
her in his arms. So of course they spun a romantic story. Pictures were worth a thousand words. 
We walked and smiled, answering some questions about Charlotte’s upcoming collection for Fashion 
Week. They wanted to know why I wasn’t in Los Angeles with Ronan. They asked me things like: 
“WAS IT JUST A SHORT HOLIDAY ROMANCE WITH RONAN CONNOLLY, HOLLIDAY?” 
“RONAN WAS SPOTTED WITH HEATHER YOUNG AT THE COFFEE JUNCTION THIS MORNING. DO 
YOU HAVE ANY COMMENTS ABOUT THEIR RELATIONSHIP?” 
“ARE THINGS WITH YOU AND RONAN SERIOUS HOLLIDAY?” 
Charlotte thanked the paparazzi as we headed into Nosh for some food and drinks. I flashed them a
mega- 
watt smile and took cues from the few times I’d seen Ronan handle the media. Blake held the door for
us and 
stayed outside, making sure they left us alone. They seemed satisfied and told us to have a lovely rest of
our 
day. I wondered how they’d found us. Moreover, why would they want to photograph us just out and
about hav- 
ing a relaxing girl’s day? After the photographers left I saw Blake on his phone. I wondered if he was
calling 
Ronan or Dean. 
“You handled that really well, sis,” Charlotte said, taking off her coat. “That’s going to be a constant in
your 
life with Ronan. Are you prepared for that?” 
I took a seat at our table and said, “I think I could. I know it’s going to be annoying at times, but
everything 
with a grain of salt right?” 
Charlotte nodded and ordered a bottle of champagne. I began to fixate on Ronan being spotted with 
Heather. I did a news search for his name on my phone, and sure enough he was having coffee with her.
But 
they’re co-stars so they might have been meeting the director or something. I’d just have to trust Ronan.
He 
didn’t love her. He’d broken off their engagement. Being with Ronan outside of the four walls of his
penthouse 
haven was going to be nothing short of challenging. 
  
I ate dinner alone that evening at The York. I tried to catch up on work but couldn’t concentrate. A little 
after nine, I climbed into bed and lay there staring at the ceiling. I had barely survived my first day
without 
Ronan. If it wasn’t for Charlotte keeping me occupied I can’t be sure I would have managed to make it
through 
the day. After she dropped me off was another story. It was lonely in the penthouse without him. I felt
like I was 
an addict in detox, like I couldn’t figure out how to breathe, something so natural I’d done all my life.
The con- 
cept was now lost on me. 
The time ticked by slowly. I couldn’t sleep and found myself crying for a good fifteen minutes in the
show- 
er. I cried a lot. Being apart from him was soul crushing. It nearly drove me insane. My chest hurt. I had
this 
deep physical ache that I could not get over. I thought about going to the gym just to see if that would
relieve 
some of my anxiety, but I just couldn’t pull myself together. I had a few shots of whiskey instead and
started 
crying again. I really was truly pathetic, crying over a man I’d known for a week. 
The tears stopped sometime after ten-thirty, and I drifted off to sleep. But I awoke around eleven when
my 
phone began to ring. It was Ronan. 
“Hello, my beauty,” he greeted me sweetly with that throaty accent of his. It was so good to hear his
voice. 
“Hi Ronan, how are you?” I said calmly, not trying to be overly excited. 
“I’m good. I’ve missed you so much. How are you doing?” he asked softly. Before I could answer, he
con- 
tinued. “Blake tells me you and Charlotte had a run-in with the paparazzi today.” 
“I miss you like crazy Ronan. The run-in with the paparazzi was fine. They asked silly questions but were 
respectful of our personal space. Blake did a good job,” I replied. 
We talked for another fifteen minutes, and he told me about his meetings, even about having coffee
with 
Heather. Ronan had had five people look at his house since he put it on the market with even more
people 
coming by tomorrow. He had one offer, but it was much too low. His realtor found a few places that
were for 
rent, and Ronan said one of the places was a house on the beach in Malibu. That made me smile, but he
said 
he wanted to be closer to the studios, so that place was more than likely out of his final decision. The
Addison 
said his place would be ready for him to move in after Christmas. He had some decorating ideas but
wanted to 
run them by me to get my input. I told him I’d be happy to help. He told me he loved me again, and I
didn’t say 
it back, not yet. I wanted to look in his eyes. I turned the conversation to sex. 
“Ronan, will you hurry up and get back to Manhattan. My body needs yours.” 
He whispered hotly, “I can’t stand being apart from you. I’d love nothing more than to be in bed with
you, 
fucking you,” he sighed. “I wish my hands were on your body instead of this damn phone.” 
“I need to be fucked, Ronan.” 
“Oh, my beauty, I intend to fuck, suck and lick you, not necessarily in that order, when I return to you.” 
“Ronan, I wish I was riding your cock right now.” 
He groaned into the phone and I thought I might come undone. “Beauty, don’t masturbate. Wait for me.
I 
won’t either. Can you promise me that?” 
Little did he know I was already touching myself, but at his sensual request, I stopped. I think I heard my 
pussy cry. 
“I’ll reserve my sex-filled cries and moans for your ears only, Ronan. I promise.” 
“Fuck, Holliday,” he whispered heatedly. “Do you know what you do to me? Just thinking about hearing 
your sweet moans of pleasure makes me hard as stone.” 
“Are you sure you don’t want to have phone sex?” I questioned in a breathless whisper. 
“It’s a tempting thought, but I’ll be back to take care of your every need and sexual desire soon. Good- 
night, my beauty.” 
  
I woke up in a complete panic around three in the morning. Managing to pull my thoughts into focus, I 
found Blake standing over me, asking me if I was all right. The back of my hair and neck were drenched
with 
sweat. Every inch of my skin was damp. The bed was torn apart. Pillows were everywhere, and the
sheets were 
completely disheveled. 
“Miss Prescott, here, take a drink of water,” Blake said softly as he handed me the bottle of San
Pellegrino 
from the nightstand. Even dressed in a pair of athletic shorts and a Dallas Cowboys t-shirt he was
swoon- 
worthy to the eyes. “Miss Prescott, can I get you anything?” 
“What happened, Blake?” I asked with panic in my voice. I felt shaky, maybe a little nauseous. Blake had 
his gun with him, and that jolted me upright. Was someone actually in the penthouse? 
“Miss Prescott, I think you were having a nightmare. I heard you screaming and yelling for someone 
named Derek to stop. At first I thought you were being attacked.” 
“Oh, God Blake,” I wailed. “I’m so sorry you had to witness that horrid display.” I drew my knees up to
my 
chest, burying my face in my arms and letting out a loud sigh. 
“That’s okay, Miss Prescott. I’ve seen it all,” he said while walking around the room with his gun, moving 
the curtains, peering in the bathroom and under the bed. I assumed he was talking about war or
something. 
“Are you sure that you’re okay?” 
“Yeah, I think so. Just rattled I guess.” I smiled up at him. “Please don’t tell Ronan. I don’t want him to 
worry about me.” 
“Miss Prescott, you know I can’t do that,” he called from the living room, still checking the place for an
in- 
truder. 
“You can stop looking, Blake. There’s no one here. Derek is a person from my past, and he’s nowhere
near 
Manhattan.” 
Blake returned to the master suite, giving me a smile. “Very well, Miss Prescott. Do you need me to call 
your doctor or bring you a Xanax?” 
That took me by surprise. I guess Ronan had given Blake a full report on my state of mind. “No need to 
call my doctor. If I need a Xanax, I’ll get it myself. Thanks Blake.” 
He nodded and told me he was going to be right outside in the living room if I needed anything. That
was 
completely unnecessary, but I guess it made him feel better. I made a note to call Dr. Goodwin on
Monday 
morning. I needed to make an appointment to talk to him about my recent panic attacks and now this
night- 
mare. I had a feeling my relationship with Ronan was triggering some stresses that I needed to figure out
how 
to deal with, or it was going to ultimately destroy me emotionally. 
My head fell back into the soft pillows. Mentally and emotionally drained, I instantly drifted off to
dream- 
land. 

Chapter Fifteen
 
I woke up late the next morning to find Ronan sleeping in the chair next to the bed. I flew out from
under 
the covers and wiggled into his lap, nearly scaring him half to death. He jumped and then wrapped his
arms 
around me. “Hi, my beauty,” he said softly, and then he began kissing my cheek and nuzzling his nose
into my 
hair. 
“Ronan, oh my.” I kissed him furiously, covering his mouth. He returned my kisses, brushing my tongue 
with his over and over. I didn’t care that I hadn’t brushed my teeth. I pulled back breathlessly. “What on
Earth 
are you doing here?” 
“Blake called me and told me that you seemed upset. He said that you were screaming out Derek’s
name 
having a nightmare…” He cleared his throat. “And you looked as if you were attacked.” 
“I told Blake not to bother you,” I sighed deeply. “I don’t know what triggered the nightmare.” I ran my
fin- 
gers through his wavy locks. It was so good to see Ronan, but he looked as if he hadn’t slept a wink. He
was 
fully clothed, wearing black dress pants paired with a white collared shirt over a grey V-neck cashmere
sweater. 
“Ronan, how did you get here?” 
Mustering a half-smile, he said, “My agent hooked me up with a private jet. I told him I had to get to
Man- 
hattan pronto.” 
“I’m so glad you’re here. I missed you so much, but really you didn’t need to come back. I promise I’m 
fine.” 
Ronan shifted in the chair, running his fingertips the length of my cheek, whispering, “I missed you so 
much. It physically hurt being apart from you.” 
“Ronan,” I breathed. “I love you.” 
“You have captivated my soul and stolen my heart, Holliday Prescott,” he whispered warmly. “I love you 
too.” Ronan nipped my jaw with his firm lips. I dipped my head and captured his lips with mine. 
I insisted that Ronan get out of his dress clothes and put on his pajamas, but he said he wanted to take
a 
shower first. He pulled me into the bathroom with him, kissing me deeply, recklessly; it was almost
savage. My 
hands feverishly moved over his body. He pinned me against the door of the linen closet, cupping my
breast. 
He ran his thumb in circles over my nipple, and every muscle in my body convulsed. His lips, hot and
wet, 
trailed down my neck and over my shoulders. 
Breathless, I whispered, “Ronan, I need you.” 
“You have me, my beauty. I am yours.” He returned his mouth to mine, kissing me deeply. “I’m going to 
spend all day making love to you,” he whispered in my ear. 
Ronan began to move his hands over my camisole, pulling it over my head and tossing it to the floor. I 
gently pulled the grey cashmere sweater over his head. He was already working the buttons on his
collared 
shirt. Both articles of clothing seemed to fall to the tile floor at the same time. I began moving my fingers
to 
undo his belt as his lips placed soft kisses on my neck and shoulders. His pants withered with ease from
his 
beautifully sculpted body, along with his boxer briefs. He stepped towards me, tugging my lace shorts to
fall 
from my body. 
“No panties, Holliday?” He arched his eyebrow at me. “You cannot sleep here without any panties on 
when I’m not around.” 
“Why?” 
“Because I said so, and that’s a direct request.” His tone with me was stern. 
Giving him a devilish grin, I asked, “Are you telling me what I can and cannot do, Mr. Connolly?” 
“Yes,” he whispered darkly. “When you are under my roof, it’s my rules.” 
I saw immediately where this conversation was going. He was role playing with me, but part of me
thought 
he was serious. I would clarify about the no panties thing later. If I remembered correctly this was the
scene in 
A London Love Story where Katia was waiting for Cameron in his penthouse completely naked except for
a pair 
of sky high heels, breaking one of his many rules. Cameron had warned Katia she wasn’t allowed to walk 
around naked when he wasn’t there. Technically she wasn’t naked, but she was testing him. Because
Katia had 
disobeyed him, Cameron instructed she would be appropriately punished, which basically led them to a
night 
of mind-blowing sex where he’d spanked and used all his kinky sex toys on her, making her come over
and over 
on command. 
“I didn’t know that was a rule, Ronan,” I purred, looking up at him through my long lashes. “Are you
going 
to punish me?” My voice was a bit shaky. 
Ronan let out a deep sexy groan. “Yes, I will be punishing you, Holliday.” 
Fuck. What was he going to do to me? 
“I promise I won’t do it again,” I hissed. “Are you going to spank me?” My blood was swirling, making
my 
skin hot. Ronan grabbed me by my wrists, turning me around and gently pinning me back up against the
linen 
closet. He nipped my earlobe, and I gasped out loud as he pressed his hardened body against me. His
breath 
was hot against my neck, and I could feel his heart beating in his chest against my back. Still holding my
arms 
above my head, he stepped back, lightly spanking the curve of my hip. Hitting me shocked me a bit, but
he did 
it just enough to make me jump. “Holliday, I’m only joking around. I’ll never hurt you.” 
I broke free of his grip, turning around to face him. “I trust you Ronan. I’ll give you all of me, any way
you 
need me. I am yours.” 
Cupping my face, he covered my mouth with his, dipping his tongue inside, running luscious slow strides 
over my tongue. I felt my legs turn to jelly as Ronan’s skilled hands glided over my shoulders and down
my 
back. He gently pulled back from the embrace we were locked in, turning on the water in the shower. I
stepped 
in, feeling the cool tile on my feet, and he followed. We were right back to the place we’d been less than
forty- 
eight hours ago, before Ronan had left. Looking up, gazing into his eyes, I’d never been so completely
happy in 
all my life. I felt my back hit the tile wall. I flinched as it was a bit cold to the touch. A soft moan escaped
me as 
Ronan trailed his lips the length of my neck. Lifting me up, Ronan moved me away from the water and
gently 
eased into me as I hitched my legs around his waist. I enjoyed the moment, feeling each and every solid
inch of 
him filling me. We moved in rhythm with each other, his hips grinding into me and my body climbing
higher 
and higher with every thrust to my core. Seducing me with his eyes and body, he would bring me to the
brink of 
orgasm, teasing me, and then I’d slide back down. I found myself shamelessly begging for him to get me
off. 
“Ronan, I need you… I need to feel you… make me come, please,” I said through panting aching breaths. 
His hands flexed underneath my ass, and he drove further inside me. Crashing his perfect lips to mine 
caused my mind to retreat, taking me back to the day when we’d first kissed. I remembered how raw,
carnal and 
energized it’d felt, like the electricity of a million bolts of lightning. After that first kiss, I’d been
completely 
enraptured with Ronan. One lustful kiss was all it took for me to be shaken to my core and utterly
addicted to 
this devilishly handsome man. 
The water, hot and steamy, clouded up the glass, and I could no longer see outside. Trapped again with 
Ronan, it was just the two of us, the whole world shut out. His pace quickened as he slammed into me
with 
several sharp thrusts. I came, letting out a cry of relief as the vibrating pulses riveted through my core. 
“Ahh, my beauty, is that what you needed?” he asked, his voice raw and raspy. 
My mind was spinning. I felt like I was going to pass out from the heat and the exploding orgasm and
the 
onslaught of eruptions happening to my body as Ronan plunged deeper into me. Gripping him tightly, I
felt his 
body stiffen, and he flinched. I had accidentally sliced him with my sharpened fingernail. The dark red
blood 
dripped from his body, and I licked it off slowly with my tongue. 
“I’m sorry baby,” I kissed his wet cheek. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” 
That must have triggered something for him because he went wild, pounding deep thrusts into my core. 
And I never wanted him to stop. My body was convulsing, my skin on fire. Ronan whispered my name
with a 
hiss as he climaxed, pouring into me. I was utterly satisfied to the brink of pure unbridled joy. Panting
heavily, 
but smiling, Ronan looked even more exhausted than he had before our shower. 
 
I had a lot of energy after my shower with Ronan. I decided to get a workout in while he slept. Even
though 
Ronan was back, Blake still accompanied me to the gym. The mid-morning yoga class had just let out,
and 
women nearly fell over themselves staring at Blake as we entered the room. 
Placing my ear buds in, I climbed onto the Stairmaster and flipped through my music library where I no- 
ticed a new playlist titled: MY BEAUTY. I scanned the titles. In no random order or genre, Ronan had
uploaded 
about twenty songs, including the following: “Breakeven” by The Script, “Never Say Never” by The Fray,
“Honey 
Bee” by Blake Shelton and “Sunday Kind of Love” by Etta James. I shuffled the playlist and the sounds of
Etta’s 
lovely voice came pouring through. I looked around the gym and felt my cheeks redden. Were these
songs that 
reminded him of me? This small gesture was incredibly thoughtful and romantic. I couldn’t help it— my
heart 
swelled and tears grew thick in my throat. I shook it off and just let my mind relax as I began moving my
feet to 
the rhythm of the music. 
  
After I finished my work out, I ate brunch at the café downstairs, giving Ronan plenty of time to rest.
When 
I returned to the penthouse I found him sitting on the couch watching the news. 
“Hi, my beauty,” he purred. “How was the workout?” 
“It was very good,” I said while placing my iPod on the table. “Were you able to get some sleep?” 
“Yes, I did. Thank you.” 
Ronan seemed a bit tense, perhaps preoccupied. I wondered what was on his mind. 
“Ronan, are you okay? You seem kind of far away,” I said, taking a seat next to him on the couch. 
Ronan placed his hand on my thigh, rubbing short strokes over and over with his thumb. “Maybe, I’m
still 
a little jet-lagged.” 
“I noticed my new playlist on my iPod,” I said with a smile. 
He kissed my cheek and then asked, “Did you like the songs?” 
“I did very much. You’re very sweet Ronan.” 
“I’m glad… glad to hear that, my beauty,” he said through a yawn. “I have the same playlist on my iPod
too, 
our playlist, a soundtrack just for us.” 
I leaned over and kissed him, taking him a bit by surprise, but he returned my kisses softly while cupping 
my face in his hands. When Ronan kissed me I felt like he was speaking to my soul even though he
wasn’t 
uttering a single word. 
Gently pulling away from his hold on me, I stood up from the couch. “I’m going to grab a quick shower. 
This time I actually have to bathe and wash my hair,” I teased, bending down to kiss him on the cheek. 
“You’re killing me, my beauty.” Playfully gripping my wrist, he smiled deviously at me. “I won’t be able
to 
think about anything but your naked body.” 
“Behave yourself, Mr. Connolly.” 
He shook his head. “Never. Not when it comes to you.” 
I finished my shower and noticed I had a message from Charlotte on my phone asking if I wanted to
come 
over for Sunday dinner. I quickly texted her back to tell her that Ronan was back from Los Angeles and
that I 
would be preoccupied. I returned to the living room to find Ronan had fallen asleep again. I quietly
grabbed my 
bag and the keycard. I wanted to get some coffee, and I had some errands to run – last minute
Christmas shop- 
ping. Plus, I thought about doing something special for Ronan. Maybe I could pick a bottle of his favorite
Irish 
whiskey. I left a note on the coffee table and headed out the door as Blake followed behind. 
Blake asked if I wanted him to drive me. I said no. I wanted to walk. After I went to a few shops and
having 
no luck finding what I wanted, I decided to take a break. The smell of warm hazelnut drew my senses to
the cof- 
fee shop around the corner where I ordered a vanilla latte. As I stood pouring cinnamon into my
beverage, I 
heard a male voice say, “Holliday Prescott, what are you doing here?” 
I turned around to find Grady James standing there. A slow sexy smile slid across his lips, and his 
sparkling blue eyes washed over me. 
Goddammit… why are you so fucking attractive? 
As always, Grady looked devastatingly handsome. Even in casual clothing he could manage to take my 
breath away. On this cold afternoon he was wearing a slim-fitting, charcoal grey sweater paired with
faded 
denim jeans and a charcoal ribbed knit beanie. He had grown out his facial hair since the gala, and it was
per- 
fectly trimmed. 
“Hi Grady,” I said smiling. “The question is…” I playfully licked the stir stick I had in my hand and then 
pointed it at him. “What are you doing here?” 
Giving me another sexy half-smile, he said, “I just wrapped a photo shoot and needed some caffeine.”
He 
motioned to a table. “Do you have time for a chat, Holliday?” 
Curious at what Grady would want to chat about, I nodded and followed him to the table. Blake took a
seat 
at the table he was standing next to, carefully scanning the coffee shop. 
“So you’re dating Ronan Connolly, huh?” Grady pried and then took a sip of coffee. 
I nodded. “And you’re dating Heather Young.” 
As it stands, it seemed that Heather Young and I had the same preferences in men. I guessed I couldn’t 
fault her for her good taste. 
A smirk slid across his full soft lips. “Oh and for the record I’m fucking her, Holliday, not dating her.” 
Grady doesn’t “date” either. Are all the men I know allergic to the word— dating? 
“Why wouldn’t you want to be exclusive with her?” I asked sweetly. “Heather is beautiful Grady. You
could 
do worse,” I teased. 
“She’s not half the woman you are Holliday,” Grady said while running his hand over mine. 
“Do you remember that incredible weekend we spent at my beach house?” he asked, blue eyes
beaming. 
His smile was irresistible. “We were practically naked the entire time. God, I couldn’t get enough of you.
I still 
remember how you taste, very sweet.” He licked his bottom lip, and I saw the heat flash in his eyes. 
Blushing, I felt the blood in my body begin to swirl. My stomach tightened as my mind hurled back in
time 
to a beautiful Sunday afternoon in the Hamptons. I lay there naked atop the white crumpled sheets
overlooking 
the sparkling ocean. A light breeze carried through, making the sheer curtains dance to the rhythm of
the crash- 
ing waves against the shore. 
With his dreamy blue eyes dazzling, Grady crossed the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist 
and climbed on top of me, his hair damp from the quick swim he’d just taken in his pool. He smelled
divine, a 
mixture of chlorine and sweet coconut milk. His lips were wet, his skin was hot and he covered my
mouth, 
brushing my tongue with his. I tasted the sweet rum and mint from the Caipirinhas we’d been sipping. I
re- 
moved his towel and he began kissing my neck and chest. I felt the length of him grinding into my leg,
growing 
with each kiss. Drops of water from his damp hair fell on my body as he eased into me and I cried out.
He 
rocked me gently with slow rolling movements, gripping my hips with each stroke. Grady complimented
my 
body and told me how beautiful I was and how much he loved fucking me. 
“Holliday, are you okay?” Grady’s deep sexy voice brought me back, and I noticed he still had his hand
on 
mine. Feeling my chest tighten, I quickly grabbed my things and rushed through the doors and out onto
the 
sidewalk. 
“Holliday, wait,” I heard Grady calling after me. Darting through the crowds, I turned the corner. My
boot 
caught a piece of loose pavement or maybe a rock. I fell into the alley on a patch of ice. Grady pulled me
to my 
feet. “Are you okay, Holliday?” he asked, panting a bit from chasing me. 
“I’m fine,” I said, dusting myself off. “I think.” My hand was throbbing and so was my hip where I’d 
bumped it. Before I knew it, Grady’s hands were on my face, kissing me. I gave into him, kissing him
back. He 
pushed me up against the brick wall, my eyes fluttering open. What am I doing? I pulled back
breathless. 
“Grady,” I panted. “I can’t do this. I… I love Ronan.” 
“What, you think you’re in love with Ronan?” he mocked me quizzically. 
I nodded, trying desperately to not get lost in his familiar and beautiful sapphire eyes. 
“Come on Holliday.” He pressed his lips to my neck. “You know that you and I are amazing together.” 
“Grady, we were, but that was then, and I’ve moved on,” I panted as he caressed his palm up my arm
and 
his lips nipped along my jawline. 
Pulling back, his gaze locked with mine. “Holliday, does he treat you well? Does he know about what… 
what happened to you?” His voice was soft, not quite a whisper. 
I nodded, and replied, “Grady you don’t need to worry about me, seriously. I am a lot stronger these
days, 
but I do appreciate your concern.” 
“Are you absolutely sure? I swear if he hurts you, I will make it my mission to…” his voice trailed off, as
he 
brought two hands to caress the curve of my jaw. “It just hurts, knowing you don’t need me anymore.” 
The words hit me like a ton of bricks. I knew that when we broke up, it was hard on me, but I never 
dreamed Grady seemed to care so much. Besides he ended things with me, not wanting a serious
relationship. 
Why would he even care if I didn’t need him? 
“I’m sorry Grady. Best of luck with Heather; she seems lovely.” I wiggled free and ran back to the
sidewalk 
where I could see Blake walking towards me. 
“Are you okay Miss Prescott?” he asked warmly. 
Gathering my thoughts, I replied, “Sorry Blake. I thought I saw an old friend from college. It wasn’t her.” 
Looking back over my shoulder, I saw Grady standing there staring at me. He waved. Ignoring him, I
turned 
around and started walking back towards The York. So much for finishing my shopping. Online shopping
sound- 
ed like a much safer option in light of this event. I could not have another run-in with Grady James. 
We returned to the penthouse where I found Ronan dressed in a pair of indigo dress slacks paired with
a 
pale blue collared shirt under a sleek two-button indigo jacket. His hair was slicked back into relaxed
waves, 
and he looked incredibly handsome, per usual. 
“Hello, my beauty,” he said as he kissed me on the cheek. “Did you have fun shopping? I don’t see any 
bags.” 
I smiled affectionately. “The stores didn’t have what I wanted. I think I might try online.” 
“I see.” He took my hand and led me to the couch. “I’m taking you to dinner tonight, but first I have to
at- 
tend to something.” 
“I thought you were going to spend all day making love to me?” I teased. 
Ronan arched a brow at me, replying, “I know and I’m sorry, but something pressing has come up that I 
must go deal with.” 
What business could Ronan possibly have on a Sunday? My mind was still reeling from my run-in with 
Grady. As much as I didn’t want Ronan to go, I was kind of grateful he was leaving me alone for bit so I
could 
collect my thoughts. 
“What time are we going to dinner?” 
“I made reservations for seven,” he said with a smile as he stood up from the couch and began to
button 
up his jacket. He walked out the door with Dean and said he’d see me in a few hours. 
Grabbing a bottle of water, I decided to check my email and schedule for work the next day. Thank
good- 
ness it was a short week. Once it was over, I was on a three week vacation until after the New Year. I had
an 
email from Amelia asking me to please call her – that it was urgent. I couldn’t blow her off any longer.
She obvi- 
ously needed to talk to me about something. Amelia picked up on the second ring. 
“Amelia, hey, how are you?” 
“Not doing half as well as you are these days Holliday,” she remarked callously. I wondered what was
with 
the attitude. 
“What are you talking about Amelia?” 
“The tabloids have you linked romantically with Ronan Connolly. How’s that going for you?” There was 
sharpness in her voice. 
“Yes, it’s true. We are together,” I answered her question and immediately changed the subject to her
fam- 
ily. “How are Drew and the kids doing?” 
“They’re doing fine, but we could be doing better, which is why I need to talk to you, Holliday.” 
“Okay, are you in some kind of trouble?” 
Amelia went on to tell me about how Drew had lost his job and had been out of work for six months. 
Apparently she’d had to get a job when he’d lost his. Amelia’s job kept them afloat, but they’d had to
sell their 
house in Greenwich and move into a smaller place. Her son needed medication for his plethora of
allergies, 
and her insurance didn’t cover the most expensive prescriptions, so they were paying out of pocket. 
“Listen, I’m going to be direct. I want five million dollars, or I’m going to the press to tell them about
your 
connection with Derek Saunders.” 
“What?” I was shocked by her cold threat to me. “Why would you want to do that to me, Amelia?” 
“A reporter has called me a few times since news of you and Ronan’s relationship was splashed online, 
wanting to know more about you. The reporter said her magazine would pay me for any information I
could get 
them about you personally. Stuff like what you were like in college and what you did before you came to
New 
York. They’re offering me $500,000 just for that, but I’m sure I could get more for all I know about you
and 
Derek. It would be pretty juicy gossip for the tabloids.” 
My first thought was why would a reporter just reach out to Amelia? My second thought was how
would 
they even know we were friends? Well, now this friendship was definitely over. 
“Amelia, if you needed help with your bills,” I replied calmly, hoping to talk some sense into her. “Or
get- 
ting interviews lined up for Drew, I would have gladly offered to lend you a hand. But to try and
blackmail me is 
really low. Plus, I don’t have that kind of money.” 
I do have that kind of money, but I’d be damned if I was giving into a bully. 
“Yeah, but your sister does, and I know your new boyfriend does. I just read his net worth on Forbes a
few 
days ago,” she snapped. 
“Do you really think you can get away with this, Amelia?” I shot back. My blood was boiling. 
“I can, and I will. I need to provide for my family, and I will do anything it takes.” Her voice was cold and 
flat. “I’ll be at your sister’s office tomorrow at five. Get me the money, or I’m going to the press.” Her
demand 
hit me like a ton of bricks. 
She hung up, and I sat there just staring into space. What was I going to do? 

Chapter Sixteen

Surprisingly, Amelia’s threat did not send me over the edge or cause me to have a panic attack. I called 
Charlotte and told her what Amelia wanted and about my run-in with Grady. She told me that Lucan
could take 
care of Amelia if I wanted their help. It seemed so simple— if I agreed, in a few short minutes Amelia
could no 
longer be a problem for Ronan and me. 
“I don’t know Charlotte. Five million is a lot of money. Can’t I just tell the police she threatened to black- 
mail me.” I huffed. 
“And then what, Holliday? You know they’ll do nothing. If we don’t pay her off, then your secret is out. 
Derek takes notice and comes after you or worse.” 
When I got involved with Derek I’d been intelligent enough to keep as much from him as possible. Part
of 
the thrill of dating Derek was keeping secrets. To my knowledge Derek didn’t even know my last name
was 
Prescott. I’d made sure he never knew that Charlotte was my sister or that Perry Chambers was my step-
dad. I’d 
never introduced Derek to my family, and it wasn’t like he ever came over for Sunday dinner. My mom
never 
knew about my relationship with Derek. She would have ended it immediately and, in hindsight, saved
me a lot 
of pain and anguish in the process. When I was in the hospital I’d told her and Perry that I didn’t know
who 
hurt me. I’d made sure that the cops only talked to me about the incident. I did not want Perry or my
mom han- 
dling any of that unpleasantness. 
The only person in the world who knew everything about me was Charlotte. Ronan knew more about
me 
than anyone I’d ever been involved with romantically. Amelia knew only as much as I’d allowed, which
looking 
back, was way too much. It was too bad her husband knew she was a call girl in college, or I could have
used it 
against her to help my situation. Amelia had nothing to lose, but for me it could mean everything. 
“Okay, Charlotte,” I sighed. “I can’t risk it. Tell Lucan to pay her off. Let me know the terms and how we 
guarantee Amelia never opens her mouth to anyone ever, especially the press.” 
“It’s going to be okay, Holliday.” Charlotte’s comforting words soothed my aching mind. 
  
Ronan returned to the penthouse to find me in the middle of getting ready for our dinner date. He
seemed 
agitated, saying gruffly that he needed to shower and change. Ronan didn’t even kiss me when he
returned. He 
was brooding. Wondering what had put Ronan in such a moody state, I finished my hair, quietly just
watching 
him lather up every part of his hot body until the glass had fogged over and I could no longer see him. 
Walking to the closet that Ronan had assigned to me, I decided to wear the green Burberry dress. I
knew 
that would please him, and maybe seeing me wearing it would brighten his dark mood. I pulled the
dress over 
my head, and it fell perfectly over my slender frame. The fabric felt light as air against my skin. My new
black 
strappy, ankle-wrapped Jimmy Choo’s were a perfect match. I wore the diamond and platinum bracelet
Ronan 
had bought for me the day of the gala and my favorite diamond stud earrings. 
Ronan emerged from the bathroom wearing only a plush white towel. His hair was damp, causing his
dark 
curls to fall loosely around his temples, and his skin glistening with beads of water droplets. He looked
totally 
edible. I caught his gaze as he walked past the bed. He stopped dead in his stride. 
“Holliday… wow,” he swallowed hard. “Jesus, my beauty, you look absolutely incredible.” 
I blushed as he approached me slowly, his eyes brimming with lust. Inhaling the scent of him, I trailed 
kisses down his neck. He swept my hair back over my shoulder, smoothing his fingers over my cheek.
Slipping 
his arm around me, a tingling shiver moved through me. I felt my nipples harden as Ronan ran his hand
down 
over my backside. The fabric was so thin it was like he was touching my bare skin. Wetness gathered
between 
my thighs, and I was pretty sure Ronan knew the powerful effect he had on me. I nearly lost my balance
when 
he pressed into me, kissing me deeply. 
“My beauty,” he whispered in my ear. “I need you.” The raspy tone of his voice rippled across my
already 
heated skin, sending fire through my blood. 
“Ronan,” I breathed. “I love how much you want me right now.” I panted, unable to keep from twisting
my 
fingers through his damp locks. 
Hurriedly shoving my dress up over my hips, he eagerly worked my panties down my legs. Ronan bent 
down and carefully moved my feet so I could step out of the lace fabric that had pooled around my
ankles. 
“Fuck it, I want you naked… lose the dress Holliday.” 
Smiling at his request, I pulled the dress up over my head placing it along with my bra over the back of
the 
chair. I tugged on the towel, quickly freeing it from his godlike body. I was convinced that his insanely
hot body 
could solely drive good girls to commit criminal acts just to touch him. It should be illegal to be this
fucking gor- 
geous. 
Leading me by the hand, he sat down on the couch, pulling me into his lap. He teased me madly with
the 
head of his cock— rubbing it against my slit over and over. 
“Ahh, Holliday, you’re greedy today. Always ready for me aren’t you?” 
I should be asking him that very question— still unable to believe that I have this kind of effect on him. I 
make Ronan Connolly horny baby. 
He gently ran his hands over my thighs, gliding them up my arms and to my face. His long fingers flexed 
around the nape of my neck, pulling my mouth to his. Ronan kissed me intently with his firm soft lips,
brushing 
his tongue with mine over and over, driving me wild. I returned his kisses, and he tenderly bit my
bottom lip. 
Holy hell that was hot. 
In a rush, he pushed me down by my shoulders, impaling me onto his thick cock, burying himself deep
in- 
side me. 
“Ahhhh…” My head rolled into Ronan’s shoulder. Sucking in a breath, I needed a moment to adjust to
the 
fullness of him inside me all at once. 
“Ride me, Holliday,” he rasped. 
His hands gripped either side of my hips as I began moving slowly up and down on the hard length of 
him. I clutched the back of the couch for support as I began to move faster. 
“You feel so good, my beauty,” he breathed after a moment. “You’re so plush and warm. God, you’re a 
fucking perfect fit for my cock.” He remained still for a moment, and I clenched around him, gasping at
the 
overwhelming feeling of him inside me. 
Moving his lips to my breasts, he carefully took each one in his mouth. Licking. Sucking. Rolling his 
tongue around my nipples. My breath caught in my throat, and he slowed again, savoring the moment.
Wrap- 
ping his arms around my waist, Ronan pulled himself to sit up straighter. Feeling the intense pressure
against 
my clit, I knew I wouldn’t last much longer. 
His hands dug into my hips, guiding me to ride his cock. Harder. Faster. Moaning, lustfully craving an or- 
gasm, the pressure swirled in my stomach. I felt a bead of sweat run down my neck. Ronan caught it
with his 
tongue running the length of my chest to my neck. My head fell backwards. Closing my eyes, I spent a
few mo- 
ments just… feeling. Heat climbed up my legs, spreading through my thighs. Ronan’s name left my lips
repeat- 
edly, in broken syllables. 
Ronan pulled me by the back of my hair, “Look at me, Holliday.” 
My eyes darted to his, and a thousand emotions flickered inside me. We stared into each other’s eyes, 
recognizing the same powerful connection— a bond. This man, a stranger to me just over a week ago,
had be- 
come deeply etched into my life in a very short time. How can this be possible? 
“I want to watch you as you fall apart,” he whispered darkly. 
Coming unhinged at his words, I shattered into a million pieces above him. A few more thrusts, my nails 
dug into his shoulders as I let out a strained whimper. I felt like I was going to combust as he emptied
himself 
into me. My head rested into the crook of Ronan’s neck. He pressed a kiss to my temple. When our
breathing 
became less than heavy, his steady hands grasped my waist, allowing me to move up so that he could
pull out 
of me.  
“Ronan,” I said breathlessly. “I love you.” 
“Because of you, I know what it means to truly love someone— I love you, Holliday.” 
My heart sprang in my chest at his words. Pulling me to my feet, Ronan’s strong arms curled around me 
locking us in a tender embrace. 
“What are you thinking, Mr. Connolly?” 
“Can we talk about the dress?” 
Pulling from our embrace, I nodded. 
“Why did you put it on?” 
“I put it on tonight, because, I wanted…” 
He waves his hand and cuts me off. “No, I mean the first night. When I asked you to return to your room 
and put it on.” 
“Remember that needing a thrill part of me I was telling you about?” He nodded, and I continued, “Well,
I 
guess in some way, I needed to see how far I’d take it. Honestly, I was expecting you to ask me to be the
girl’s 
nanny or a personal assistant.” I laughed loudly. “I never dreamed you’d want to fuck me.” 
Ronan’s mouth dropped open. He started to laugh and then said, “I wanted you from the very moment I 
saw you look up at me in the lobby with your pretty blue-green eyes.” He cocked an eyebrow at me.
“You had 
seduced me. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. I thought you were the most beautiful creature I’d ever
set my 
eyes upon. The way your hair fell when you looked at me, it was like time stood still… and then you
smiled at 
me.” Releasing a low growl, he said, “God, I thought I was going to melt into a puddle right there in the
lobby. 
“Now I have a question for you, Mr. Connolly.” 
“Yes, what would you like to know?” He smirked while twirling my hair through his long fingers. 
“How serious were you about the wearing no panties rule when you’re not around?” 
“I don’t know.” He flashed a devilish grin. Then he leaned into me, whispering into my ear, “Why don’t
you 
try it again my beauty and see what happens.” 
I would definitely keep that in mind. I liked the playful and mysterious side of Ronan. Again he
continued 
to surprise me. 
  
Dinner with Ronan was completely fabulous. Ronan had used a fake name for the reservations to avoid 
someone spilling to the paparazzi. The manager seemed overly pleased that a celebrity was in the house
that 
night ordering champagne for everyone. I felt like I ate my weight in ahi tuna canapé. After the
restaurant closed 
we stayed just gazing into each other’s eyes and laughing. Ronan held my hand, twisting his fingers with
mine, 
kissing me nearly every chance he got and everywhere he could, including the back of my hand and the
inside 
of my wrist, all the while whispering beautiful compliments in my ear. I felt a little lightheaded from
drinking a 
bottle of wine by myself. Ronan and I climbed into the limo. We were both slaphappy. Uneasy, I fell over
onto 
the seat, and Ronan pulled me into his chest. He handed me a bottle of water, instructing me to drink it
all. I 
heard Ronan’s phone buzz. He released his grip on me to check the message. I looked over at him and
his 
mouth hardened, his eyes narrowed and he balled up his fist. 
“Ronan, are you okay?” I said softly. 
“What is this all about Holliday?” he said coldly while shoving his phone into my face. I blinked and tried 
to focus on the screen in front of me. There in digital form was a headline that nearly sucked the wind
out of my 
lungs. 
RONAN CONNOLLY’S LEADING LADY’S LIP LOCK WITH GRADY JAMES 
Fuck! There it was along with several pictures of Grady and I kissing and embracing in the alley from
earlier 
today. My mind raced and I felt sick. I didn’t know if it was from the booze or because of the photos.
Ronan re- 
moved the phone from my face and drummed his fingers on the armrest of the door. 
“Ronan, I can explain.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I… I went to the coffee shop and ran into 
Grady.” My heart pounded in my ribcage. 
“I thought I told you to stay away from him Holliday?” He scolded me. 
“Ronan, Grady and I have been friends for a while, and I can’t just cut him out because you take
personal 
issue with him.” 
“He’s an ex-lover of yours, Holliday. Not just a friend.” His voice was filled with anger. 
“Really Ronan, how about your exes? Let’s see… there’s Emma and Heather. Are there any other lovers
that 
you still associate with?” I snapped. “Should I demand you not speak to them going forward?” 
He shot me an annoyed look. “Tell me about this run-in you had with the infamous Grady James, Holl- 
iday.” 
I explained to Ronan what happened with Grady. Immediately I regretted not telling Ronan about it
earlier, 
and I felt my heart sink a bit. I could have avoided this unpleasantness if I had just informed him after
it’d hap- 
pened. Dammit. 
“Ronan, I can certainly understand why you questioned me, and you have every right to. I can’t pretend
to 
know what it feels like to be cheated on, but just know I would never do that to you. Not ever.” 
Ronan was angry with me. I had hurt him, and it wrecked me. We pulled up to the private entrance at
the 
hotel. Ronan took my hand in his and led me up the marble stairs. The elevator doors opened. We
stepped in 
and found ourselves alone. Ronan had given Dean the evening off, which I thought was very nice of him. 
“I didn’t want… it was an accident. Grady came on to me,” I sputtered out. “I’m sorry I hurt you.” 
Ronan gripped my arm. My skin hummed at his touch. “Apology accepted, just be careful; the paparazzi 
are everywhere. If something like this happens again…” His voice trailed off. Lifting my chin, he said
firmly, 
“You are mine, Holliday. Don’t let this happen again.” 
Ronan’s eyes flared narrowly, and I felt my insides churning at the sharp tone in his demand. Yup, I had 
fucked up, and even though Ronan had accepted my apology, he was not a happy camper. I only hoped I
hadn’t 
lost his trust. 
  
Monday morning dragged on at work. I was still a little hazy from all the drinking at dinner with Ronan. 
Luckily I didn’t have anything too serious to attend to that day. Ronan called me to ask how I was feeling,
and I 
told him I was a little tired. 
“Holliday, I want to take you to The Addison after you get done with work. Can I pick you up?” 
“I should be done with work around five-thirty. I’ll call you if anything changes.” 
“Okay, my beauty. I cannot wait to show you the renovations, and I have some decorating questions I
need 
your advice on. You have such a keen eye.” 
I didn’t know what he was talking about. He was the one with the eye for details. Ronan had had the
pent- 
house completely and tastefully decorated for Christmas. I didn’t know if I could have done any better. 
I closed my door and took an hour nap around eleven. Charlotte and I had a lunch meeting in her office, 
and Lucan stopped by to explain the contract he’d had his lawyer draw up so that Amelia couldn’t ask
for more 
money or talk to the press going forward. If she violated the non-disclosure, she would be in a world of
hurt 
financially. I received a phone call from Amelia saying she was on her way to get the money around four.
I made 
her aware of the non-disclosure. She remarked that she had already been in contact with Lucan and his
lawyers. 
We huddled around the conference table a little before five, waiting for Amelia to arrive. I listened to
the irri- 
tating ticking of the clock. After twenty minutes went by, I sent Ronan a text telling him I was running
behind 
and wouldn’t done at five-thirty as I’d planned. 
Carrying a fabulous coffee gold Hermes crocodile embossed handbag, Amelia finally showed up. Her ap- 
pearance didn’t let on that she was hurting for money. Amelia embodied Connecticut suburbia, looking
every 
bit the polished country club wife she was. Her glossy blonde hair was pinned up in a low bun with
loose 
pieces that framed her face. A long-sleeved sheer, cream colored blouse was topped with a two-tone fur
vest 
that perfectly matched her sleek camel colored dress pants and sky-high Louboutin heels. 
I sat on the far end of the table with Charlotte while Lucan and his lawyer went over the contract with 
Amelia. I clutched the armrest of the chair I was seated in tightly, flexing my fingers over the edge. I
imagined I 
was gripping Amelia’s throat. It was all I could do not to get up from my seat and slam her head onto the
con- 
ference table repeatedly. 
Fluttering her grey eyes at me, she said in a low voice, “I am really sorry it had to be this way Holliday.” 
I shot her an icy stare. “Yeah, I’m sure you’re really torn up about this, Amelia,” I replied snidely. 
With one phone call to the bank the money was routed to her account. Amelia stood up from the table, 
sliding her black square-framed Prada sunglasses up her pointed nose, and then she turned on her heel,
breez- 
ing out the door as elegantly as she’d walked through it earlier. Lucan shook hands with his lawyer, and
Char- 
lotte escorted him to the elevator in the lobby. 
I felt all the air rush out of my lungs as I let out a deep sigh. “Thank you, Lucan. I’m so sorry you had to 
give her your hard-earned money.” I desperately hoped I hadn’t infringed on the twin’s college funds.
My mind 
was scattered. It was doubtful that losing five million had any kind of financial impact for Lucan and
Charlotte. 
Lucan was beyond wealthy. He’d once pondered buying an island in the Caribbean. That’s what I call
fuck you 
money. 
In his smooth Italian accent, Lucan said, “It’s no trouble, Holliday. We’re family and we take care of each 
other.” He pulled me into his strong slender frame, saying, “Ti amo, mia sorella.” Charlotte returned to
the 
room and joined in on the group hug. Lucan kissed the top of her head. 

Chapter Seventeen

A black Mercedes G55 pulled up to the curb, and I saw that Ronan was driving, no Dean or Blake in
sight. 
When Ronan, approached the sidewalk, I ran out of the doors of Charlotte’s design studio and straight
into his 
arms. He kissed me deeply, sweeping my hair off my face and tucking it behind my ears with his
fingertips. 
“I missed you too, my beauty,” he said, guiding me into the passenger seat. 
“New vehicle?” 
“This is my car. I arranged for it to be delivered, and lucky for me the driver dropped it off a few hours 
ago.” He raised my hand to his mouth, gently kissing the back. “You like it?” 
“It suits you.” 
As we drove to The Addison through the busy rush hour traffic, Ronan said the contractor had called
him 
about half an hour ago and told him most of the changes to the penthouse were in the final stages and
his new 
place would be ready for him to move in on time. In addition, Ronan told me that he’d accepted an offer
on his 
home in Los Angeles and received well over the asking price. I guessed there’d been a bidding war
between two 
buyers. 
We rode up the private elevator, and the doors opened right into the foyer. Next to the private elevator
was 
a passenger elevator. Rounding the corner, my eyes were drawn to the expansive floor to ceiling
windows in the 
large living room that spilled into the dining room. The views were simply breathtaking. You could see
the city 
stretched out for miles, including Central Park and the Hudson River. A long sleek fireplace surrounded
by 
large white stones separated the living room from the dining room. A sleek breakfast bar spread across
the 
edge of the kitchen. Four tall, wood-framed chairs with square backs padded in grey linen were tightly
wrapped 
up in thick plastic and lined neatly in a row against the bar. The tile work splashed across the walls in
the 
kitchen was truly beautiful, all dark grey and white, which made the white marble countertops and dark
cabinets 
with long chrome handles really stand out. All the appliances had the tags still attached, and they were
top of 
the line. Everything was sleek and modern. The handmade light oak floors were covered in plastic
sheeting, so 
they would not be scuffed up before the rugs went down. Everywhere you turned you could see the
stunning 
custom light oak millwork throughout. There was an overwhelming scent of paint and sawdust as we
walked 
from room to room. 
“I want to put a large dining table here.” He motioned to the empty space in the dining room. “And I
want 
it to seat ten or twelve people.” We walked back to the living room and Ronan continued to discuss his
design 
plans. “I envision three sofas in here with a piano and a sitting area over here.” 
We crossed back through the foyer, passing the stairs to the other side of the penthouse. As we started
at 
one end of the long hallway, Ronan explained the room set up. There was a library, a study, a half-
bathroom, 
two guest bedrooms with bathrooms and a den. As we rounded the corner at the end of the hallway I
saw there 
was a media room, and just off the media room was the butler’s pantry. Next to the butler’s pantry
there was 
another private elevator that went directly to the garage. Passing through a small corridor, I saw Ronan
had had 
two staff suites added on the other side of the media room. One would be Dean’s. 
“Ronan, this place is incredible,” I said as I gazed around, walking back to the stairs. 
“Thank you. I’m very pleased with the renovation of the space,” he said, taking my hand in his and
leading 
me upstairs. As we reached the top of the stairs, a bedroom with a private en-suite spread out directly in
front 
of us with a sitting room to the left. In the corner I spied a large bedroom with splashes of lavender and
hues of 
pink— Jade and Leah’s little retreat. My eyes widened as I spied a lovely terrace just off the second floor
that ex- 
tended almost the entire length of the penthouse. We crossed back through the gallery, past the stairs
to the 
master suite, which was painted a dove grey color. Wall to wall plush grey carpeting covered the floor,
and a 
large fireplace sat on one side of the room. Sky to ceiling windows ran the length of the room on one
side. 
“The bed will go here and you can look out at the city and enjoy the sitting area in front of the fireplace 
here.” Ronan explained to me that the second floor was completed. It was the first floor that still
needed some 
finishing touches. I loved the master suite. It was filled with recessed lighting and had a beautiful chrome
ceil- 
ing fan. The fireplace was surrounded by white and grey stones that went from the floor to the ceiling. 
The best feature of the master suite was the dressing room. It was as big as the master suite itself with 
custom white shelving everywhere, a tiered chandelier hanging in the middle. Beyond the dressing room
was a 
bathroom with a large stone whirlpool spa that sat in front of a soaring window with a view of the city.
Ronan 
had had a rain shower installed and two large stone rectangular sinks at the vanity. The bathroom was
all white 
and grey marble with heated floors. 
Extending out his long arms, Ronan asked as he beamed from ear to ear, “Well, what do you think, Holl- 
iday?” 
“Where’s the laundry suite?” I asked playfully. 
“Oh, it’s just on the other side of this wall. You can get to it from the hallway,” he said very matter of
fact. I 
grinned at him, and he scooped me up in his arms and began twirling me around. We crossed back to
the mas- 
ter bedroom, and I gazed out from the window at the city as the snow fell gently from the sky. 
“Holliday, I want you to live here with me and the girls,” Ronan stated very boldly, practically knocking
the 
wind out of me with the statement. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. 
“Ronan, I… I don’t know what to say.” I sucked in a breath. 
“Say, yes. Please say you’ll move in with me,” he pleaded. 
“Ronan, this is all happening so fast. I love you, but can you give me some time to think about it?” 
“Don’t take too long, my beauty.” He kissed the top of my head. “I want this to be our home. I love you.
I 
want to wake up to you, fall asleep next to you and have coffee with you before work.” 
Moving in with Ronan was a big decision, and if it didn’t work… well, I couldn’t think about that. I loved 
this man and he loved me. I’d never loved anyone so deeply, so purely in my entire life. This was all so
sudden, 
and I needed to talk to Charlotte. 
Ronan turned on the fireplace, before walking into the closet. When he reappeared he had two
cashmere 
blankets. 
“I’ll be right back,” he said, pressing a kiss to my lips. 
Ronan exited the bedroom, and I began to undress. Not knowing how much time I had, I worked quickly 
throwing my jeans and sweater in a heap. Completely naked, I positioned myself in the middle of the
blankets 
facing the door, resting back on my heels. 
 
Moments later I heard footsteps in the hallway. Ronan appeared in the doorway with a drink tray but 
stopped dead in his tracks when he saw me. 
“My goodness, this is a pleasant surprise.” 
He joined me on the blanket, placing the tray on the hearth. 
“You said, if you had your way, I’d be naked and wet for you twenty-four, seven.” 
“Hmmm,” he paused, kissing my shoulder. “Yes, I do recall saying that.” 
Ronan handed me a mug from the tray. The smell of chocolate and peppermint tugged at my senses. 
“What’s this Ronan?” 
“You don’t know?” 
I shook my head, figuring it was just hot cocoa with a dash of peppermint. Taking a sip, I knew instantly 
Ronan had made us each a Chocolate Kiss— my favorite. A smile crossed his lips. 
“Ronan, how did you know I like this drink?” 
“The day we met I noticed you had a mug of something you were drinking. I called the hotel bar and
per- 
suaded Eli to tell me what you had ordered. He told me that it was a Chocolate Kiss.” 
I dipped my finger into the whipped cream and swiped it across Ronan’s lip. 
“I like your kisses better Ronan,” I told him, kissing along his jaw then finding my way up and licking the 
sweetness off. 
He curled his fingers around the back of my neck, pulling my mouth to his. I moaned softly into his 
mouth. 
“You are mine. And I am yours,” he whispered. 
Slowly he lowered his mouth, his soft lips trailing up from the base of my neck as he wrapped his long
fin- 
gers around my throat just under my chin. 
“Yessssss,” I hissed. “I am yours and you are mine.” 
I could feel the sexual electricity sparking between us… burning white hot, just as it had the first time
we’d 
been together and every time since. His hands fell to my waist, and my arms instantly wrapped around
his neck 
as he kissed me again and again. Each kiss he delivered was more intense than the previous. My body
re- 
sponded to his as if on command… heart pounding in my chest, nipples hardening, clit throbbing… eager
for 
him to touch me. 
His hands keenly explored my body, taking my breast in his mouth, teasing me slowly. My breathing be- 
came heavier with every touch Ronan placed on my body. 
I began to remove the sweater from his strong frame, carefully unzipping it. “I want you, Ronan,” I whis- 
pered. “I need you inside me.” 
“Oh, I promise to give you repeated orgasms tonight.” 
“I believe you have made and delivered on this promise on multiple occasions, Mr. Connolly.” 
“Ronan, take off your shirt, now,” I demanded. I watched him obsessively in all his masculine perfection
as 
he freed the white cotton shirt from his delicious body, revealing his hardened abs. I placed my foot flat
on his 
chest, running my toes the length of his solid frame. He playfully gripped my ankle, throwing it over his
shoul- 
der. Blood pooled in my stomach, my knees quivering as Ronan dipped his head, placing soft kisses
across my 
abs. 
“Ronan…” He looked up at me, and his curls fell around his temples. “Take your pants off.” 
“My beauty, you’re so demanding tonight.” He winked at me. “I like it,” he said, pushing his jeans down 
his hips. 
“I can be pretty demanding when I want something.” I flashed a grin. “I want you, all of you.” 
“Let me tell you what I want,” he murmured, dipping his finger into his mug and pressing it against my 
skin— rubbing it across my breasts. He pressed his teeth around my nipple, sucking the whipped cream
into 
his mouth and licking all around the peak. Ronan moved his hand to my back, lowering me on to the
plush 
blanket. He kissed the inside of my thigh and then moved to the other, making me gasp. 
“I imagine… I will roll my tongue over your warm plush body… teasing you… tasting you.” A soft moan
es- 
caped me when he slid his finger up and down the length of my pussy, making me so wet I could feel my
own 
slickness on the inside of my thighs. 
“Jesus, Ronan, you drive me crazy,” I panted breathlessly. 
“I know.” He dipped his head again, licking me slowly. He pressed his tongue flat against my pussy and 
began to suck. I felt my knees weaken when he pushed his wet tongue inside me. He tortured me
relentlessly, 
and I almost came undone. I felt all the nerves in my body begin to radiate, but I didn’t want to come
yet. I 
pulled back, and he nearly fell forward as I jolted my body away from his curved mouth. Ronan looked at
me, 
his eyes narrowing, as he wiped his gorgeous firm lips with his thumb and index finger and then gently
sucked 
each one, letting out a low moan. 
I pushed him back with the palm of my hand, leading him to rest on his back as I began stroking the
hard 
length of him. His body was scorching hot to my touch. Ronan let out a groan so exhilarating that I
nearly lost 
my balance as I steadied myself over his perfectly trimmed physique. 
“Fuck,” Ronan mumbled, watching me run my tongue over the tip of his cock. 
“I want you in my mouth. Fuck my mouth, Ronan.” His thick eyebrows arched. Ronan grabbed the back
of 
my head, shoving my mouth down onto his cock. Playfully licking the tip, my heart raced, appreciating
the low 
moans of pleasure he made. I drew him in deeper, and his body stiffened beneath me. 
“Oh, my beauty, you’re going to make me come, and I desperately want to come in your wet, hot
mouth.” 
“I want you to come wherever you like, Ronan, in my mouth, inside of me or all over my body.” 
I worked my lips down to his tight sensitive balls, taking them in my mouth while stroking his shaft. I 
could tell he was building. I continued to suck and lick the length of him as he threaded his fingers
through my 
hair. 
“Holliday… fuck… you make me…” His voice was a bit strangled, but he commanded, “Now, open your 
mouth. Take my cock and suck me dry.” I took his glistening shaft in my mouth as he began to pump his
warm 
liquid all over my tongue. I felt his body shaking as I swallowed the milky sweetness, sliding down and
coating 
my throat. 
Ronan wrapped his arms around my waist, lifting me and gently placing me on my back. He shoved his 
cock into my slick slit, parting me open, and began fucking me slowly with rolling thrusts. Intensity flared
in his 
eyes. He lowered his head, sucking and licking my breasts, making me quiver with pleasure. 
“You taste so good. Your bare skin against mine… I’ve never felt anything so hot in my entire life, Holl- 
iday.” 
I gasped as he began to drive deeper inside me, his hips working effortlessly, rocking my body into a
state 
of euphoria. 
“My God you are stunning,” he whispered. “I need you, Holliday.” 
“Ronan,” I panted. “Don’t stop, ever.” 
He drove into me, filling me generously, demanding my orgasm. 
“Holliday, I’ll never stop. Nothing on Earth will keep me from touching your insanely gorgeous body.
You 
are mine. I am yours.” His words were like foreplay to me as he groaned with grittiness in that sexy
accent. 
I felt all the muscles in my body tighten and convulse all at once as he pounded me furiously. I
exploded, 
releasing around Ronan with pulsing vibrations and quick spasms. I cried out his name, and the echoes
lin- 
gered loudly, vibrating off of the bare walls in the room. 
“I love watching you come apart,” he breathed. “And I love knowing every gasp, moan and heated cry
that 
leaves your mouth is because of me.” 
Ronan raised up his body a bit, clutching my hips tighter and bringing me closer to him, continuing to 
power into my stirring sex. I gripped his arms tightly, trying to hang on as he spread me wider. Ronan
was so 
deep inside me, I felt as if he might break me in half. He gripped me tightly as his whole body jerked.
Ronan 
poured into me, whispering in my ear, “I love you, Holliday.” 
While Ronan was still inside me, I squeezed around him, and he sucked in a breath. 
“I feel you, Holliday, all of you, and it’s the sexiest goddamn thing in the world.” 
We fell back to the blanket, and he pulled out of me. The movement sent shockwaves rippling through
my 
pussy. 
“I never knew it could be like this, Ronan,” I said through gasps, trying to regain my normal breathing. 
Nothing I ever thought I knew about love had ever been like this. Not one thing. 
“Ever since I met you…” he paused. “I believe, my beauty, you’ve stirred feelings deep inside me…
feelings 
I forgot even existed.” 
I curled into Ronan, watching the lights from the fireplace flicker across the empty walls. My eyes
became 
heavy. The last thing I heard was, “Sleep now, Holliday.” 
  
My eyes fluttered open to find Ronan staring at me. He must have been watching me sleep. That’s
pretty 
romantic, right? Ronan propped himself up on his elbow, caressing the curve of my body. “I love your
body, 
Holliday. The pleasure of physically driving you insane and out of your beautiful mind is all mine.” 
I touched his face, running my finger the length of his jaw. “You cannot be real, Ronan Connolly,” I 
hummed. “Doesn’t this seem like a dream? I feel like every morning reality will sweep in, and this,” I
motioned 
my hand between our naked bodies, “Will all have been a glorious fantasy conjured by my lustful
creative 
brain.” 
“My beauty, until I met you my life seemed to be scripted, planned out in an orderly controlled
fashion.” 
He pulled me into his chest, wrapping the soft blanket around us. “Ronan, do this, do that for the good
of your 
career. Now, every day is new and exciting. I never know what’s going to happen when I’m with you,
Holliday.” 
Hearing the romantic words pour from Ronan’s lips made me realize how so much of his life had been a 
programmed maneuver. From his marriage to Emma Bailey-Wilson to his relationship with Heather
Young, 
even Leah had been career strategy in Emma’s eyes. 
“Ronan, I love you, and the reason I know this is because I’m scared, scared of losing you and terrified
this 
is all happening so fast. It worries me.” 
“I understand. My life is a bit chaotic. As you said, I live in Hollyweird,” he chuckled. 
“Not anymore.” I corrected him. “You live here now.” I tipped my head up and reached my hand around 
the base of his neck, pulling his face to mine. “Ronan, this is your home now.” 
He brushed his lips to mine, kissing me softly. “Holliday, what will it take to get you to move in here
with 
me and make this our home?” 
“Ronan, seriously do not pressure me. I need some time to think about your offer. I just told you I was 
scared.” 
“I know you’re scared, but I will protect you. You’ll never have to worry about a thing if you let me take
care 
of you.” 
Ronan was starting to piss me off. I understood he had this need to take care of me and protect me, but
I’d 
told him I did not want to be his cause. I stood up and started to put my clothes on. He was making me
feel 
like I needed to be taken care of, like I was incapable of surviving without him. 
“Holliday, what are you doing?” 
“I’m getting dressed because I need to get out of here,” I snapped. 
“Are you running away from me?” 
“No, but if you don’t stop forcing this moving in together issue on me, I’m going to lose my mind,” I 
replied. “Besides, Ronan, you need to talk to your daughters, don’t you think?” 
“About what?” he huffed, pulling his jeans over his hips. 
I shot him an annoyed look. “About moving your lover into your home, a woman you’re considering co- 
habitating with who is not their mother.” 
“Firstly, Holliday,” he said gruffly. “You are more than just my lover. Let’s get that straight right now.”
He 
shut off the fireplace and grabbed his jacket. I was fully dressed and ready to leave. “I want us to be in
each oth- 
er’s lives. I want you and only you. How many times to I need to explain this to you?” 
“Ronan, take me home please.” I felt my eyes welling up. 
He looked at me confused. “Home with me to The York?” 
“I… I think I need some time for myself.” I lowered my head and felt my pulse start to race. “I have a lot
to 
consider.” 
“Holliday, you cannot be serious.” His eyes darkened as he pleaded with me. “Why are you saying this?” 
“I need to be away from you and this dream world. I need to be sure this is real and that I’ve not built
up 
some unattainable fantasy where you’re concerned in my head.” 
We started to walk downstairs. Ronan stopped and turned back. “You say you love me, so why do you 
want to leave me?” 
Hot tears streamed down my cheeks. “Ronan, I’m not leaving you. I need some space. Please
understand I 
need to get my head on straight before I get in deeper with you.” 
“Holliday, please… please don’t do this… my heart can’t take it.” He touched my cheek, brushing the
tears 
away with this thumb as I kissed his palm. 
“Please Ronan, just let me do this,” I said softly. 
“If time is what you need, I will give it to you. It won’t change my mind. I won’t stop loving you, Holliday 
Prescott. You are mine. I am yours.” 

Chapter Eighteen
 
Not falling asleep next to Ronan was unbearable. I sobbed and cried all night. I barely slept. I was com- 
pletely and utterly miserable. All I could hear was the sound of Ronan’s sad voice telling me he loved me
over 
and over in my head. Being in my room at Charlotte’s was so foreign to me. I got up in the middle of the
night 
and sat at my desk, poring over my mail and day planner. I had been so wrapped up in my dream world
with 
Ronan that I’d even forgotten to pay some of my bills. On top of that, I’d never called Dr. Goodwin to set
up an 
appointment. Somewhere around three in the morning I managed to fall asleep, but I woke up in a panic
to 
check my phone and see if Ronan had called me. There was nothing. 
  
I sat at my sister’s conference table in her office and listened to her scold me over lunch the next day. 
“Holliday, I can’t believe you just walked out of Ronan’s life after he offered you his love and a place to
call 
home,” my sister snapped. 
“Sis, I know you don’t understand, but I need some reassurance that a life with Ronan is a real
possibility,” 
I said as I took another bite of my salad. “Can a person really love someone so deeply after only a week?
Hello? 
Cliché much for insta-love?” 
“Sounds to me like you’re running scared, and you’re looking for an excuse,” Charlotte huffed while
cross- 
ing her arms. 
My sister’s words were not lost on me. There may have been a hint of truth to what Charlotte was sug- 
gesting. On the other hand, I could just be an indecisive woman who happened to have trust issues
when it 
came to men. 
“Charlotte, what would you have me do? I think my head should be on straight before I go moving in
with 
a guy I’ve known for less than two weeks.” I let out a deep sigh. “Even though it feels like I’ve known him
for 
years.” 
“Okay, you might have a point, but what you just said, that right there should tell you something, Holl- 
iday.” My sister stood up and threw her empty salad container in the trash. She walked to her mirror
and tucked 
her straight blonde hair behind her ears. 
“Charlotte, how did you know that Lucan was absolutely without question the man for you?” She slowly 
turned around, leaning against the front of her desk, drumming her red nails against the curve. 
“I just felt it, sis.” Her blue eyes widened and a sweet smile crossed her glossy full lips. “Lucan offered
me 
unconditional love. I loved him more than I’d ever loved anyone.” She stood up and smoothed her white
shift 
dress, adjusting the black belt around her waist. “When we were apart it was brutal. Sometimes I felt
like I 
couldn’t breathe on my own unless he was next to me.” 
Whoa. This sounded all too familiar. I felt my chest tighten and my hands tremble slightly upon hearing 
her words. I took the final bite of my salad and closed the container. Giving her a warm smile, I said,
“Charlotte, 
since today is the last day of the work week, can we go out clubbing tonight, just you and me?” 
Charlotte shifted on her pointed heel, staring at me with a twinkle in her eyes. “Yes!” She arched one of
her 
eyebrows at me. “Are you serious Holliday?” 
I nodded, and my sister immediately called up Lucan, telling him that we needed a girl’s night out. She 
winked at me and made arrangements for a limo to pick us up promptly at eight-thirty before making
reser- 
vations for us to have dinner at Lorenzo’s and managing to score us a VIP table at Indigo Row. That lifted
my 
spirits. A night out dancing and drinking with my sister was exactly what I needed to let go and relax. 
I headed back to my office and began poring over the recent trend analysis reports for fall and winter. 
Charlotte had asked me to work on some fashion week preparations along with some marketing for the
sum- 
mer campaign. I accidentally knocked my messenger bag off the drafting table, the contents of which
were sent 
scattering across the floor. Reminders of the day I met Ronan were right there in front of me, including
my col- 
ored pencils and the Christmas picture Jade drew. Echoes of that day bubbled inside, but I silenced
them. 
Damn my heart for defying my orders for a clear mind. 
I checked my phone for any text messages. Still there was nothing. Ronan was really respecting my
wishes 
about giving me space. My mind drifted to thoughts of him, wondering what he was doing. The echoing
of my 
desk phone ringing brought me back to reality. 
Before I knew it, it was nearly three. I spent twenty minutes answering a few pressing emails before
setting 
my out of office reply email. I looked around my office. By the time I’d be back here, it would be a new
year. 
  
Dinner at Lorenzo’s was incredibly delicious. Lucan had put a special order in for Charlotte and me. We 
dined on pumpkin cappellacci with brown butter sauce and spaghetti topped with Dungeness crab and
minced 
scallions. We were both a bit tipsy when we left the restaurant and headed to Indigo Row. The dance
floor was 
pumping, packed with well-dressed party people, sweating and grinding on each other to the sounds of
Pitbull 
and Kesha. I could feel the vibrations of the music rippling through my body. We ordered two dirty
martinis and 
a bottle of Perrier. 
We slammed our drinks and ordered another round. After finishing the second set of salty drinks, we 
headed to the dance floor. All eyes seemed to be on Charlotte and me. Charlotte wore her blonde hair
back in a 
sleek ponytail. She had on a glittering black sleeveless mini paired with strappy heels. I’d opted for a
shim- 
mering halter-neck dress layered with white and gold fringe and my favorite metallic Brian Atwood
heels. Char- 
lotte had helped me curl my hair all over, letting it fall tousled and wild. I looked like a disco diva. I knew
by the 
end of the night my curls would either completely fall out or relax enough that I’d look like my everyday
self. 
I moved my body and worked my hips to the rhythm of the drums. I felt a pair of smooth hands on my 
waist and was jolted into Charlotte, who was laughing uncontrollably and dancing with some hot Latin
guy. The 
lights were flashing everywhere, and I was beginning to sweat. I felt droplets form on my temples and at
the 
base of my neck. I spun around and crashed right into Grady James, who immediately placed his hands
on my 
hips, guiding me to the electric beat of Avicii’s sexy voice. Did Grady have some kind of radar on me? I
felt like I’d 
seen him more in the last week and a half than I had the entire time we dated. He smiled at me,
brushing my 
hair back from my face. Grady turned me around so that his pelvis was grinding into my backside with
his 
hands caressing the length of my arms. 
His soft lips travelled the length of my neck, and he started to nibble on my earlobe. I threw my head
back 
into his strong frame, clutching his arms to steady myself. Turning around, my eyes trailed up his tall
perfect 
body. The black pants and black dress shirt he wore made his dark blue eyes smolder. He smelled
delicious, 
like sex on a stick. Why was I was all too eager to climb up his sturdy frame and kiss all over his fiercely
hot 
body? My pheromones must have been working overtime. With the electricity of the music and Grady
wildly 
running his hands all over my body, it was a very tempting recipe for making bad choices. Charlotte
pulled me 
from Grady’s grasp and up the stairs to the VIP area, back to our table. 
“What the hell are you doing, Holliday?” She playfully teased. “Did you call Grady and tell him to meet
us 
here?” 
Glaring, I took a sip of my beverage. “No, I think he has this internal GPS on my location at all times, sis.” 
We ordered two more drinks and two shots of tequila. I slammed my shot and followed it with some 
sparkling water. My ears were ringing and my body was overcome with rolling waves of warmth. My
skin was 
damp, and I could feel the sweat gliding down my chest in between my breasts. If it were twenty-four
degrees 
outside, you’d never know from the steamy humidity inside the club. Grady motioned for me to come
back to 
the dance floor, and I shamelessly went. We danced to several more songs, our bodies grinding and
swaying to 
the jolting tunes of the New York club scene. 
“Your body feels so good against mine, Holliday,” he whispered in my ear, sending jolts of electricity 
through me and igniting my blood on fire. 
Grady pulled me by the hand, leading me off the dance floor to the nearly empty hallway where the
bath- 
rooms were located. He dipped his head, grazing his tongue along my neck and brushing his soft full lips
to 
mine. 
Immediately I pulled back, he slipped his arm around my waist pulling me close. 
“Holliday, my limo is right outside.” Grady trailed his finger along my collarbone. “Come with me and let 
me remind you how good we are together.” 
“Grady, I can’t. I’m sorry. I… I shouldn’t even be here with you.” I looked down, knotting my fingers. My 
voice was barely a whisper. “I’m sorry. Really, I’m not trying to lead you on. That’s not fair to you.” I
threw my 
head back, and my eyes met his gaze. We stood in silence for a few moments. The tension building
between us 
was raw— palpable. I stepped back, finding myself trapped between the wall and Grady’s firm, lethally
sexy 
body. Trailing featherlike kisses along my jawline, he whispered, “But, you are here with me.” 
“Come on Grady,” I said, pulling his hand and leading him back to the dance floor. “Let’s just lose our- 
selves in the music before we both do something that we’ll regret.” 
“You mean something you’ll regret. I won’t regret it at all.” 
Being close to Grady was dangerous for my sexual health. He winked at me and then spun me around,
dig- 
ging his fingers into my waist as we shifted our bodies together and apart fiercely to the pounding
vibrations of 
the music. 
Suddenly I was knocked backwards, nearly falling on my ass, but a set of strong arms caught me before I 
hit the floor. I turned to see Blake gripping my arm firmly. I found myself inches from Ronan under the
bounc- 
ing colored lights. His face was serious, his jaw clenched tight. He brushed past me, stopping in front of 
Grady. Their voices were raised, practically yelling at one another, but I couldn’t hear what they were
saying over 
the thundering jolts of music. Grady threw his hands up. Ronan drew his fist back and punched him,
landing 
right smack on his chin. I saw the blood start to drip down Grady’s face. Flashes from cameras and cell
phones 
went off everywhere around me. I spun around and wriggled free from Blake’s grip. Charlotte raced
towards me 
on the dance floor, handing me my purse and coat. Blake shielded both of us from the crowd as Grady
took a 
swing at Ronan and missed. 
“Ronan!” I screamed. “Stop, please stop.” 
He turned to look at me, alerting Grady that his defenses were down. Grady clocked Ronan with a left
hook 
squarely planted on his beautiful chiseled jaw, causing Ronan to rock backwards, but he caught his
balance 
swiftly. 
Ronan rubbed his jaw and then grabbed me by the arm, picking me up and tossing me over his
shoulder, 
hauling me out of the club. I thought I might hurl with every hurried bouncy step Ronan took. 
Blake ushered me into the back of Ronan’s Mercedes. My eyes were having trouble focusing, and I
began 
to hiccup. I saw Charlotte talking to Ronan. She hugged him, and he then helped her into the limo. Blake
hand- 
ed me a bottle of water and told me to drink up. Ronan slid into the back of the car and told Blake to
drive back 
to The York. 
“Holliday, are you okay?” 
“Yes, Ronan, I’m just fine,” I said flatly. “What the hell are doing at Indigo Row?” I muttered through a
set 
of hiccups. “Are you stalking me?” My voice was a bit hoarse. 
“No, I’m not stalking you.” He hung his head. 
“Don’t be mad at Mr. Connolly, Miss Prescott. I called him,” Blake said from the front seat. 
Blake had been at the club, and I’d had no clue. I guess he was still my bodyguard, but how did he know I
was 
at Indigo Row? 
“Did you have fun kissing Grady, Holliday?” 
Ouch. I guess I deserved that… but still ouch. 
“Not particularly,” I admitted. “But, why did you send Blake?” 
“Look, Charlotte called me and told me you two were going out tonight. I sent Blake to the club to
watch 
over you since I couldn’t be there.” 
“Jesus Christ, Ronan!” I screamed. “This is what I am talking about, this need you have to protect me
and 
keep me safe; it’s fucking annoying.” 
“It’s not annoying. It’s called loving someone, Holliday!” he shouted. “What is your problem? Why
won’t 
you just let me love and protect you?” 
I didn’t answer him, because I wasn’t sure I fully knew what my issue even was. 
We pulled up to The York. Blake opened my door for me, and Ronan helped me out of the car. He took
his 
hand and placed it gently on the small of my back, leading me through the glass doors of the hotel.
Riding the 
elevator brought on the feelings of being sick, my stomach swirling from one too many shots of tequila.
Terri- 
fied I might throw up at any moment as we entered the penthouse I gripped Ronan’s arm tightly. 
Do not puke in front of Ronan. 
“My beauty,” Ronan said sweetly as he led me to the couch. “Sit here, I’ll be right back.” I stared at the
glit- 
tering ornaments and twinkling lights on the tall Christmas tree. The tree was mocking me in all its
magical 
beauty. I noticed a plethora of shiny wrapped gifts spilling out from underneath the beautiful long
branches. 
Someone’s been busy shopping. A few moments later Ronan reappeared producing a cup of tea and a
B12 vitamin. 
I laughed out loud, remembering the first time we’d gotten wasted together after expelling all of our
dirty little 
secrets. 
“Ronan,” I paused. “I’m sorry… sorry about kissing Grady.” 
“That’s all right. I accept your apology,” he blew out a breath. “Don’t make a habit out of it, okay?” 
I nodded, before taking a sip of tea along with the vitamin. My eyes were heavy, and I began to fall. 
  
Ronan’s soothing sultry accent jolted me from my sleep. “Wake up my beauty, you’re dreaming.” 
I sat up and immediately regretted the decision. My eyes couldn’t focus… my head was spinning. Feeling
a 
little fuzzy, I fell back, sinking into the coziness of the bed. 
“Ronan, what time is it?” I moaned, trying to open my eyes fully. 
“It’s almost six,” he said gruffly. 
I looked over at him, and he was smiling at me. I took in the sight of him, looking seductively handsome
in 
the pale light pouring into the master suite from the bathroom. The light caught the natural highlights in
his 
dark loose curls. 
“What the hell was I dreaming about?” 
“You were screaming about Derek.” He rolled up from under the covers, leaning against the headboard. 
“I’m glad I was here this time to pull you from your nightmare. You were thrashing around pretty
wildly.” 
I blew out a breath. “I’m sorry Ronan. I don’t mean to worry you.” 
“My beauty, I will always worry about you,” he said quietly while rubbing my arm. 
“Ronan,” I wailed. “Stop fussing over me please.” 
“Holliday, I’m utterly confused. Please help me understand why you take issue with my concern for your 
well-being. All I want is to try to keep you safe.” 
“I… I don’t know Ronan.” I said, throwing my arms in the air. “I think my issue is that my mother put 
everything into a relationship with my father… depending on him to take care of her.” My eyes began to
prick 
with hot tears. “She came home one day, and it was all gone in a flash. I need to make sure my eyes are
wide 
open where this relationship is concerned.” 
“Holliday… ” His voice was strained. “For once in your life, trust somebody. Let me be that somebody
that 
you trust. I want to be that someone for you.” 
“I don’t want to need you Ronan,” I replied. 
I stared into Ronan’s eyes, studying his gorgeous face. His bottom lip quivered as he inhaled sharply. 
“Please Holliday, it’s taken me years to find you. I don’t want to lose you.” 
“That’s just it. I don’t want to lose you. Ronan, I have never needed a man before, not like I need you. 
Losing you would break me, and I don’t think I’d recover.” 
There – it was out. It hit me like a freight train… the realization that I actually needed him. Christ
almighty. 
“Oh, Holliday. You won’t lose me,” he replied sweetly, rubbing the pad of his thumb across my cheek. “I 
cannot imagine my life without you in it. My heart aches when you’re not with me. I couldn’t sleep the
other 
night. I missed you terribly.” 
I knew exactly what Ronan was talking about because I’d felt the same ache. I didn’t know why I was
fight- 
ing my feelings for this insanely attractive man who had been totally honest with me and loving me so
deeply 
that he’d moved across the country to be with me. I was hopelessly head over heels for Ronan Connolly.
He 
was right. I needed to just let go. As scary as it was, I was going to take that leap. I was thinking with my
heart 
and my head, and it felt so good. 
“All right, Ronan Connolly, you are mine and I am yours,” I announced proudly. “Let’s do this. I’ll move
in 
with you, and I’ll love you as long as my heart beats in my chest, until the day I take my last breath on
this 
Earth.” 
Smiling, Ronan leaned over the middle of the bed and kissed me. “Good because that’s the only way I 
want it. Losing you is not an option. I love you, Holliday. I’d move heaven and Earth to keep you safe and
make 
you feel loved.” 
“You know we’re a total cliché right?” 
His eyes flashed as he gently swept the hair away from my cheek. Ronan pulled me into his arms,
holding 
me tightly. My head fell into him as I nuzzled into his broad chest. 
“Why do you say that?” 
“Because we’ve known each other for a little over a week, and suddenly we’re in love.” 
Instantly my heart seized, when I said the words “in love.” I didn’t know if Ronan was actually in love
with 
me or not. I know there is a difference. 
“Ah, I see. What was it you said a few days ago? Oh yes, let me make sure I get this right— fuck the 
haters.” 
“I believe I said screw not fuck,” I laughed. “I guess we’re just going to have to prove them wrong.” 
“Love isn’t something you can put a timeline on, you know that right? As it would seem, fate had other 
plans for us. Wouldn’t you agree?” 
“I suppose that is true,” I admitted threading my fingers with his. 
Warmth flooded through me as I lay curled against Ronan. Silence enveloped us, and I took a few mo- 
ments to just enjoy— feeling cherished. It was foreign concept to me, but one I knew I was going to
grow to 
appreciate quickly with Ronan. 
“Ronan,” I said quietly. 
“Yes, Holliday.” His rich accent purred. I love the way he says my name. 
“Don’t ever let go.” 
“Never, my beauty. Not ever. You are mine.” 
I closed my eyes and fell asleep to the sound of Ronan’s steadily beating heart. 
Epilogue

One Week Later 

Cabo San Lucas, Mexico 
Ronan 
She thought that I was asleep, but I was watching her; watching her while she dug her toes in the sand, 
watching her as she smoothed unruly, wind whipped strands of hair behind her ears. The sunlight
danced all 
around her, she looked like an angel— a sexy angel. Definitely not the biblical type, although Jesus Christ
him- 
self would be lucky to have Holliday Prescott on his team. 
Looking in my direction, I caught her smiling. I did nothing except admire her beauty. Loving Holliday
was 
easy — yes, I fell hard and so did my cock. You know what I’m saying. I mean no disrespect; she is
without 
question the most stunning creature I’ve ever laid my eyes upon. 
She doesn’t know this, but when I passed through the lobby at The York Hotel on my way to the photo 
shoot, I saw her sitting by the fireplace. She was tapping her ink pen against her bottom lip. I only saw
her for a 
few moments, but I felt a strong pull towards Holliday. It would be my good Irish luck that my darling
daugh- 
ters laid the groundwork for me. I’ll be sure to thank them someday— maybe. 
Recalling our first dinner together, it did not go well. That was entirely my fault. I was very thankful
Dean 
interrupted, telling me I needed to take a call from Nina. Desperately needing a few moments to pull my
shit to- 
gether, I felt like I might say or do something utterly idiotic. I was too forward and much too arrogant
with my 
words. A total fool, I’ll blame jet-lag for my ungentlemanly like conduct. Thank the Lord Holliday gave
me a sec- 
ond chance to prove myself. 
When Holliday told me the story behind her scars and how she had been… I can’t even say the word.
That 
crushed me. But, she surprised me with her unbelievable courage and strength. Two of the
characteristics I love 
most about her. I can’t pinpoint an exact moment when I knew I loved her, probably because I feel like
I’ve 
loved her forever, because it feels like I have known her forever— not giving a fuck if I sounded like a
sappy 
wanker. I won’t apologize for that. 
“Señor Connolly,” a warm Spanish accent greeted me. 
“Yes, Javier. What can I do for you?” 
“Sir, Mrs. Connolly’s afternoon massage appointment, you asked to be notified one hour before.” 
Hearing the title Mrs. Connolly gave me terrible flashbacks to my ex-wife, but it also made me smile on
the 
inside at the presumptuous staff thinking Holliday and I were married. 
“Javier, Holliday is not my wife, but I appreciate the compliment.” 
“Many apologies to you, Señor Connolly.” 
“Not to worry. I will deliver her to the spa personally, Javier. Gracias.” 
“De nada, Señor Connolly.” 
Holliday waded into the water. My eyes darted around taking in our surroundings. No paparazzi that I
can 
see. God, she’s beautiful. I need to fuck her soon— it’s been far too many days. 
The vibrations from my phone pulled me from my perverted thoughts. It’s the third time in an hour, my 
Manager has rang me. He knows I am on vacation. Whatever bullshit he has to tell me can wait. Hitting
ignore, 
I shoved the phone in Holliday’s beach bag. 
She emerged from the sea, like some mythical goddess… no better yet a “Bond Girl.” Pushing to my feet,
I 
grabbed her towel from the lounge chair. Smiling, she stopped and wrung the water from her dark hair. 
She jogged lightly towards me, “Hey there.” 
“Hey there yourself, my beauty,” I replied, softly wrapping her in the towel. I took my time drying her
off, 
kissing every inch of exposed skin, which was a lot since she was wearing scraps of fabric that left little
to the 
imagination. One of the few things the French managed to get right. 
“Did you have a nice swim?” 
“I did, the water is unbelievably warm.” 
“I am very glad to hear that,” I replied, threading my fingers through her damp locks. “By the way I have
a 
surprise for you.” 
“You’re spoiling me,” she replied, pressing a kiss to my cheek. 
“Yes, I am, and it’s only the beginning of our vacation. You have a massage in an hour,” I said, trailing
my 
fingers across her collarbone. Goosebumps splashed across her skin. 
“Ronan,” she hummed. I adore the way she says my name. 
“Yes,” I murmured against her neck. 
“You’re phone is buzzing.” 
“I know.” I trailed my thumb across her lips. “I’m trying to ignore it.” 
“Oh, but what if it’s a…” Crushing my lips to hers, I cut her off mid-sentence. I’m lost to everything in
this 
moment— except her. All I hear are Holliday’s soft sexy little moans, she makes when we kiss. However,
my 
concentration is broken when my cellphone continues to buzz. Retrieving it from her beach bag, I
contemplate 
throwing it out into the sea. But my eyes shift to the text message on the screen: CALL ME
IMMEDIATELY. 
VIDEO OF YOU AND GRADY LEAKED ONLINE. DONNA AND I ARE ON DAMAGE CONTROL. 
My heart pounded in my ribcage. I felt my shoulders tense and the blood begin to surge in my veins. Ex- 
pelling a deep breath, I shoved my hands through my hair. The bastard deserved a lot more than a
punch to the 
jaw. Why did he have to taunt me? Fuck, that is no excuse. I know better. But when he said, “How does
it feel 
knowing I had her first, Connolly?” It took everything in me not to rip his fucking throat out. 
Hooking her hand around my waist, she asked, “Ronan, what is it?” 
“Fuck! Grady James and that goddamn altercation at Indigo Row. Our fight was leaked online.” 
Holliday pulled away. I realized I had yelled directly in her face. 
“Sorry, so sorry, my beauty,” I grabbed her face, pressing a reassuring kiss to her soft lips. 
“Hey, remember that thing I said about when a problem arises, we’ll handle it together?” 
“Yes,” I mumbled. 
“That goes for you too,” she said smiling, taking my hand in hers. “Now, call your PR team, find out
what’s 
going on and then let’s see about getting you in for a massage as well.” 
Pulling her in close, I pressed a kiss to her forehead. My phone began vibrating again. This time a
message 
from Dean flashed bright across the screen: THE INFORMATION YOU WANTED EARLIER. DEREK SAUN- 
DERS HAS ARRIVED IN NEW YORK CITY. 
Good. Even though this mother fucker doesn’t know it yet, he and I have unfinished business. When it
comes to 
protecting Holliday Prescott there is nothing I won’t do. And for every permanent scar he gave to
Holliday I will 
put ten more on him. I will destroy his empire, his shitty legacy and his worthless fucking life. Holliday is
mine 
now, and I protect what is mine. 
 
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Epilogue

Sneak Peek – After the Break 

by Andrea Joan 
Coming Spring 2015 
Prologue 
Liam 
Seattle: One Year Ago 
Drug of choice; railing lines of coke seems to be on the menu tonight. But I’m not particular I’ll shove
any- 
thing up my nose, down my throat, or into my lungs. Snort, smoke, or swallow. Doesn’t matter as long as
it 
gets me so fucking high I can’t remember who I am. 
Booze of Choice; Jameson. Every. Fucking. Night. 
Girl of choice; obviously she has a name, but at the moment I can’t fucking remember. I’m sure she told 
me before we stumbled back to my shitty apartment. I can probably blame this memory loss on the
coke, or the 
booze, or the fact that this chicks’ mouth is wrapped so tight around my cock that she is literally sucking
the 
memory out of me, but the truth of it is I have barely listened to a fucking word she has said. I don’t care
to 
remember so I can’t listen. Blondie probably told me her whole life story when I was serving her drinks
tonight, 
right before she pulled me into the bar’s bathroom and let me snort lines off her tits while she shoved
my hand 
up her practically non-existent skirt, but every time she spoke I shut my brain off because I. Don’t. Want.
To. 
Remember. 
That’s the curse of having an Eidetic Memory. I can’t forget anything I hear or see or smell or even
fucking 
taste. Every event, every experience, every single snapshot of my life will burrow its way unrelentingly
into my 
brain like a fucking diseased tick. People think that having a photographic memory is some kind of gift,
like a 
god damned superpower. Shit, there was a time I believed that. School was a cake walk. Anything I read
in a 
textbook or learned during a lecture was easily categorized and referenced in my mind for future use. I
could tell 
you the tie’s my Freshman History teacher wore every day of the two week period he taught the class on
the Fall 
of the Roman Empire. That was almost ten years ago. I can even recollect wall to ceiling to floor what my
first 
girlfriends’ bedroom looked like right down to the prayers on all those creepy fucking Precious
Moments 
posters she had plastered over her walls. I was thirteen. 
But here is the problem with having every second of my life seared into my memory like a brand. I don’t 
get to pick and choose what is remembered. When something horrible happens to me, something so
dark and 
depraved and painful it would rival my worst nightmare, I will be condemned to remember. Every.
Fucking. De- 
tail. In high def. I’ll hear the screaming and the begging, feel the pain of a blade slicing my skin over and
over, 
smell the fear and taste that coppery flavor of blood as real as if it was happening in the present. The
memory 
will brutally rape my mind until there is nothing of substance left and the only escape from the constant
pun- 
ishment of it comes in the form of a powder or a pill or a bottle. Or pussy. 
Pussy seems to help drown out the ghosts that haunt me. Temporarily anyway. Which is why I stumbled 
the two blocks from the bar to my apartment with Blondie on my arm. She was more than ready to fuck,
she’s 
hot in that fake porn star kind of way, and most important she came with snowy white party favors. 
“Fuck you’re good at that honey,” I groan, my large hand grabbing the back of her slender neck pushing
my 
dick deeper down her seemingly endless throat. Bringing the bottle of Jameson to my mouth I take a pull
that 
would put Tommy Lee to shame. The burn hits me quick, and I relish the feeling of my eyes rolling back
into 
my head as the effects of the alcohol and coke mixed with the sensation of a warm tongue licking my
cock and 
taking me deep again cause me to fall back on the mattress, the box springs singing that familiar tune of
carnal 
abuse as I hit it hard. 
“You like that Liam? God you’re seriously big,” she purrs while her hand takes over where her mouth
left 
off, pumping me up and down. 
That should be a huge fucking turn on, but my name on her cigarette laced voice almost causes me to
lose 
my erection, especially when I open my eyes again and find fake violet ones staring back at me, begging
for my 
approval. Approval she will be waiting a long ass time for because the disgust I have for myself in this
moment 
has been reallocated to this chick. Everything about her is phony; colored contacts, cheap blond
extensions at- 
tached to her head, and definitely fake tits. Even the scent of her is a fucking turn off; some kind of
overly sweet 
flower smell, but it replaces the odor of death and blood that habitually surrounds me so I acquiesce. 
Fuck! 
Why did I have to open my eyes? Maybe if I get drunk enough and high enough this will never even be a 
memory. 
“Don’t talk honey. Just suck.” 
“Mmmm I love when you call me honey,” she moans creeping her fingers slowly toward the hem of my 
shirt, her other hand fisting my dick hard just like I need. 
The harder she sucks me off, the harder she works her hand up and down my shaft, the easier it is to
push 
the memory of that night further and further away. So I need her to stop fucking talking. 
Chuckling I grab her hand off my shirt. 
“You shouldn’t. I only call you honey because I can’t remember your name. Now stop talking and suck
me 
off. Or you can leave. I don’t really give a shit.” 
Her faux violet eyes shoot up at me clearly in shock that I would say something so offensive. But I know 
she won’t leave. I clocked her as an insecure bar slut the minute I served her a cosmopolitan and she
adjusted 
her already low cut shirt further down to give me a better view of her tits while constantly brushing her
hands 
over the tats on my arm. 
“You’re an asshole,” she spat out but stays conveniently on her knees in front of me. 
Nothing I haven’t heard before, or anything I would argue with. But what the hell did she expect? A few 
winks in her direction, some shared shots of tequila-which I’m not technically supposed to drink while
working- 
and the mention that I was once an amateur boxer had her panting and guiding my hand under her skirt
in the 
bar bathroom before she even gave her name. A name I now could not fucking remember for the life of
me. 
Tammy…Taryn…Trisha? Something with a T. Or maybe a P. 
Nope. Not coming to me. 
God damn this coke is good. My face is numb, my fucking mind is numb. I need to get the name and 
number of her dealer before I shove her ass out the door. 
“I know I am. But maybe you can help save me. Turn me good again honey,” I say with a cocky ass smile.
I 
know the effect I have on women without even trying and that little ray of hope should do the trick of
getting her 
gifted little mouth back on my dick. 
Christ. I am an asshole. 
Blondie smiles big and works her hands back toward my shirt. My entire body tenses at the realization
that 
she is trying to take it off. 
“Stop,” I snatch her wrist with the hand not attached to my whiskey. 
“What? I just wanna see what you’re working with under there. I know fighters have cut bodies. It
would 
make me much more eager to suck you off. I may even be willing to swallow,” T or P something teases
licking 
her lips slowly. 
Fuck it. 
What do I care what this chick thinks. Two scenarios could play out. She will either excuse herself as she 
runs out the door, which is fine by me, or ignore what she sees and continue blowing me. 
I’m sure my cock would agree that the latter scenario is more favorable.  
Normally I try to avoid taking clothes off all together, but I know Blondie is not going to let up and
frankly 
I’m too fucked up right now to put up much of a fight. And I need this. I fucking need to get off. I crave
the si- 
lence in my head, a break from hearing her call out for me to help her. To save her. A brief reprieve from
seeing 
and hearing my brother’s last fucking breath. 
“Go for it honey, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” I say laying back on the bed, taking another swig of 
Jameson as the ceiling above spins in an endless circular maze, speckles of silver and black dots swirling
round 
and round. 
The feel of my shirt gliding up my abs should excite me, but only causes panic. 
“Holy shit,” I feel her breath whisper against my skin before my shirt even reaches my pecs. “Maybe you 
would be more comfortable if you kept the shirt on.” 
What she really means is that she would be more comfortable if I kept the shirt on. I’m lucky my pretty
face 
was spared from any lasting damage or I may have never gotten laid again. T or P something doesn’t
bother to 
ask what happened or feign sympathy as she kneels back down on her knees and takes me deep into her
mouth 
again. 
“Shit” I curse under my breath taking another pull as her tongue glides up and swirls around the tip of
my 
cock. 
It’s almost time for another hit of blow. 
This chick does have talent, definitely not an amateur when it comes to sucking dick. The feint after- 
thought that I should be wrapping it up before letting her mouth touch my cock flashes through my
inebriated 
brain. But where was the fun in that? Truth be told I deserve some kind of STD, something that could
perma- 
nently fuck up my future, but it won’t happen. I’m god damn invincible and no matter how much I test
my luck 
it will never fail me, despite how often I pray it will; begging for punishment like a drowning man
searching for 
air. Unfortunately invincibility seems to be another one of my curses. 
Fuck. Maybe I am some kind of superhero. 
My hand lazily finds its way on Blondie’s head as she takes me deeper and deeper into oblivion. 
Damn I’m so loaded at this point I barely remember my own name, so P or T something shouldn’t feel 
bad. 
I don’t bother to warn Blondie that I’m about to come. I know she will take whatever I have to offer.
Just 
like all the ones before her. With a grunt I jet semen down her throat, pulling her hair slightly causing
her to 
moan in appreciation and sending a nice little vibration around my dick. 
Now the welcoming silence descends and my memories have been wiped clean. 
Nothing. But. Nothingness. 
“Damn honey that was something.” 
Sitting up on the bed and I tuck myself back into my pants, still managing to hold on to my whiskey like
a 
God. Damned. Pro. 
“Mmmhmmm,” she hums. “Now it’s my turn. By the way my name is Samantha,” she informs wiping
her 
mouth seductively with her fingers. 
Samantha. I was way off. 
“Whatever honey.” 
And I also don’t give a shit. 
Leaping to her feet she straddles me in one movement and kisses me sloppily while rocking her hips
into 
my lap before I even have time to zip up my pants. Amazing. I treat her like shit and she is still down to
screw 
my brains out. Blondie tasted like tequila and tobacco and shame, but I’m an emotional masochist and
all that 
is wrong with her and this situation only makes my cock hard and ready for round two. 
“Give me a second honey.” 
Taking a final pull of Jameson I throw the now empty bottle onto the floor where it clanks against the
many 
others playing the songs of my failure and ever progressing self-destruction. I reach into my pocket and
pull my 
wallet free snatching a condom out of one of the folds. As daring as I was with the blow job there is no
fucking 
way I’m sticking my dick in this girl without protection. Shit the last thing I need is a mini me running
around. 
Grabbing Blondie’s hips I flip her easily around onto my bed, making sure to press her head into the
mat- 
tress. No need to see her face. Fuck, I don’t even want to know her name. 
She giggles like a little school girl and I try not to feel repulsed. Whoever told women that sounding like
a 
little girl was sexy should have his fucking head examined. 
I need to get this over with already. 
Pulling my pants down, for the second time tonight, I rip the condom wrapper with my teeth and
sheath 
myself. 
“You ready for me honey?” I rasp into her ear dragging a hand toward the back of her inner thigh and
up 
under her skirt to her center. 
No panties. 
Typical. 
I slide a finger into her and she moans. Damn she is dripping wet, more than ready. Her ass begins to 
grind upward into my hand and her moans became more frantic. She does have a fucking amazing ass I
will 
give her that. 
The tip of my dick is hovering right at her entrance when without warning flashes of that night play 
through my mind like a horror movie. Her angelic face ghosts through my closed eyes. 
Torturing me. Tempting me. Killing me. 
I shake my head as if that will somehow erase the memory, like my brain is a god damned Etch-A-
Sketch. 
Forget. 
Push past it. 
Push into her. You will feel release. 
Become numb. 
Before I slam into her I hear the muffled ringing of my phone from the pocket of my jeans on the floor. 
“Fuck.” 
I was so fucking close. Snatching my pants off the floor I clumsily try to pull my phone out of my pocket. 
“Ignore it baby. It’s like two in the morning. Just fuck me already. I’m ready.” 
“Don’t call me baby,” I snarl. 
I know how harsh I sound, but where the hell does this chick get off thinking she can call me baby? Only 
one girl had that right, and she’s dead now. 
The caller ID on my phone reads Shayla and I slide a finger across the screen as fast as I can manage. 
“Shayla? What’s up? You okay?” 
Trying to hide the panic in my voice is near impossible because my sixteen year old sister calling at two
in 
the morning can mean nothing good. I discard the condom, because I don’t want to talk to my sister
with a 
fucking condom wrapped around my dick, and pull my pants back up over my hips. 
“Liam,” a faint sniffle shudders through the phone and burns into my ear. 
What. The. Fuck. 
She has obviously been crying and the hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention. 
“Who the hell is Shayla?” Blondie flips dramatically around and shoots an icy glare my way as if she has 
some claim to me. 
I thought my not bothering to remember her name would have been the first hint I don’t give a shit
about 
her, but apparently that wasn’t clear enough. And I do not fucking like the way she spits out my sister’s
name as 
if it was poison. I cover the speaker of the phone with my hand and walk the short distance from my bed
to my 
bathroom. 
“My baby sister. Now, shut the fuck up.” 
Slamming the bathroom door shut I have to lean against the counter to steady my drunk ass, the irides- 
cent lights quickly creating a migraine in my intoxicated brain. 
Focus asshole. 
“You okay? What’s wrong sweetheart?” 
The relentless thumping in my chest is warning me that I need to calm the hell down before my heart
ex- 
plodes. I press the Harley keys from my pocket hard into my hand in an attempt to focus my rabid
energy. That 
and because I want to be ready to haul my ass home in order to beat the shit out of anyone that is
messing with 
my sister. I may be too fucked up to drive but the blind rage I’ve quickly been accustomed to since that
night is 
scorching through my veins. Sobering. Me. Right the fuck up. 
“I’m fine Liam.” 
Thank fuck. 
“It’s Dad. He-he can’t do it anymore.” She sniffs into the phone again. That sound breaks me. My sister
is 
the only one that I allow to evoke some semblance of a real emotion in me anymore; if it were anyone
else I 
would push those emotions someplace deep where they can’t affect me. 
“What? What do you mean Shay?” 
“It’s the cancer. I know he told you he was doing fine and was in remission and he didn’t need any help 
with the bar, but he was lying. The chemo treatments are wearing on him. He’s lost so much weight and
he is 
tired all the time. I’m trying to help, but with school I just don’t have the time to be there as much. And
Dory 
quit so he doesn’t have a manager to help him anymore. He’s at the bar all the time. He’s killing himself.
I 
don’t what to do. I know he doesn’t want you to know, I’m not sure why. But I’m scared Liam. I just
don’t- I 
don’t…” she trails off through a faded sob. 
How could my Dad keep this from me? If he hadn’t assured me his cancer was in remission I would have 
been home months ago to fucking help. Maybe he doesn’t believe I can help. Fuck, he’d be right. I’m in
no 
position to help anyone and he can probably sense it. I have an aurora about me that screams failure to
anyone 
within a universally wide radius. Damn, maybe he doesn’t even want me around. I would be a constant
fucking 
reminder of the night he lost his first born son while me, his other son, did nothing to help. 
But I know that’s not the case. No one person; not my mother, my father, my sister, fucking no one
blames 
me for what happened. And that makes it so much worse. I would rather their anger and blame then
their fuck- 
ing pity. I don’t deserve to be pitied, or forgiven. 
“Shhh Shay, it’s okay. You’re sixteen, you shouldn’t know what to do,” I tell her running my hand over
my 
face as I sink onto the bathroom floor. “I’m coming back. I’ll hop on the first ferry home tomorrow.
Don’t 
worry.” 
“Promise?” The question came out in a whimper causing me to slam my fist hard on the linoleum floor. I 
can’t fail her too. 
Not her. 
No. Fucking. Way. 
How could I be snorting, fucking and drinking while my baby sister wasn’t sleeping because she’s too 
busy taking care of her family? Our family. 
Fuck. I’m such a worthless piece of shit. 
She sounds so tired, so worn out. How could I have missed this? Just another thing I refuse to acknowl- 
edge because I’m so wrapped up in my own bullshit. 
Self-loathing can keep a person busy. 
“I promise Shay. Try and get some sleep sweetheart. You hear me?” 
“Okay big brother. I’m-I’m really sorry.” 
“What?” Jesus. “Don’t be sorry Shayla. This isn’t your fault. Listen go get some sleep. I’ll be back on the
is- 
land first thing tomorrow.” 
“Okay.” 
“I’m serious Shayla. Sleep, you got me,” I command because I want to be very fucking sure she listens. 
“Yea I got you.” 
“Good girl. Goodnight sweetheart.” 
“Night. Love you Liam.” 
“Me too.” 
I slide my finger across the screen to end the call while I try my best not to fucking crush the phone in
my 
hand. I don’t even realize I am banging my head on the bathroom wall until I hit it a little too hard. But
the pain 
helps. It centers me, it focuses me and with each hit I can feel the anger start to fade away. 
“Liam what’s going on in there? Are you comin’ back out here or what? I cut a few lines in case you need
a 
little pick me up baby.” 
Shit. I fucking forget about what’s her name. And did she just call me baby again? 
“I told you not to call me baby. Do you have a hard time understanding fucking English? You need to get 
your shit and leave. Something’s come up.” 
I don’t bother leaving the bathroom; I don’t need to deal with her drama. I just want her out of my
fucking 
apartment. I’m sure the gentlemanly thing to do is offer to call her a cab and give her money for the ride
home, 
but I’m not a gentleman, she is definitely not a fucking lady and I am confident she is a pro at the Walk
of 
Shame so she knows how this works. 
“Are you fucking serious?!” Blondie shrieks as she bangs on the bathroom door. Guess that little girl
voice 
has disappeared. 
I don’t bother to respond, I would just be flaming the fire of her inner drama queen and I have neither
the 
time nor the patience for that bullshit. I hear her mumbling something about me being a one pump
chump, 
blah blah blah, can’t get it up and some other nonsense I couldn’t give two shits about. Then the front
door fi- 
nally closes with a bang and I work myself up off the bathroom floor. I turn around and do the one thing
I 
haven’t done in fucking months. 
I look at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. 
The person staring back at me is a pathetic excuse for a brother, for a son, for a human being. My pupils 
are the size of pin needles, probably because of the massive amounts of coke I’ve inhaled tonight, I
haven’t 
shaved in weeks and my skin is grey. 
Not pale. Fucking. Gray. 
I guess that’s what happens when your main food group consists of Whiskey and Ramen. Not mixed to- 
gether. That’s fucking disgusting. 
I wonder if this is what Shay looks like right now. I haven’t seen her beautiful face in months so I
wouldn’t 
know. But I know if she looks as bad as me it’s because she has worn herself down by doing something
ad- 
mirable, something to be proud of. Like taking care of her family when they need it most. Something I
should 
be doing. I need to do. 
I have a fucking chance here. A chance to redeem myself. I’m in a hell of my own making and this is my 
opportunity to get out. I don’t know if redemption can be found in hell, but I know it’s time to find out. I
take 
one final look at myself in the mirror before I pull my arm up, make a fist, and smash it to fucking
pieces. 
It’s time to go home.