Ronan
Day quickly turned to dusk over our tropical paradise. I was in the living room, trying to read an article posted on THR, but the sounds of Holliday cursing under her breath distracted me. She was attempting to pack one of three suitcases. I thought I might need to call the concierge to deliver a fourth piece of luggage for all of her newly purchased items.
Admittedly, I was sad that this was our final night in Cabo. The real world loomed, and we had been wrapped up in our own private bubble for nearly a month. No substantial outside obligations had been factors in our relationship. Parts of me were nervous as fuck to let those elements in.
First up—and it isn’t without slight hesitation on my part where Holliday’s emotional well-being was concerned—we were making a quick stop in Los Angeles. I wanted to explain to Leah and Jade that Holliday would be living with me when they came to New York. My main priority was that the girls were completely comfortable with my decision. I was fairly confident they would be. They seemed to truly like Holliday. As far as I could tell, the girls had no grand dreams of seeing their parents together, and Emma and Dax had been living together for quite some time. Emma had also insisted she meet the woman who would be spending time with her children. I couldn’t say no. This was an important step in our relationship— for all of us.
A shiver racked through me, stinging my heart, as I recalled last night, seeing Holliday thrash around in the bed and hearing her shout Derek’s name and ask that he please stop hurting her. It had crushed me. The pain in her voice earlier as she’d begged me to promise her that I wouldn’t stop touching her had gutted me.
No one would ever hurt her again. They’d have to go through me first.
I closed out of the story on THR, and Holliday’s face appeared on the home screen. My gaze drifted over her features: the sparkle in her blue-green eyes, the loose waves of her dark-brown hair that fell in a seductive tangle over her shoulder, the curve of her sweet smile that crossed her full, pink lips.
Those lips. How I loved to feel them against my own.
I stared at her captivating beauty, unsure of why I was gawking at a picture of her when the real thing was only a few feet from where I was sitting. I’d captured the photo on Christmas Eve. She had been relaxed and happy. Her eyes shone bright, revealing no trace of emotional pain, because she was a fighter. But remnants of physical pain were etched on her skin, her battle scars, and parts of me wondered if she’d kept them as reminders of her fight.
My jaw tightened. Opening my e-mail, I began sifting through them to see if there were any updates on Mr. Saunders. Nothing yet.
My phone pinged, and an email from Nina appeared. I smiled as I read the text.
“Nina said the pictures are online. Come look at them with me,” I called, swiping the link on my phone.
After she’d climbed on the couch and nestled beside me, she kissed my cheek. Then she described all ten pictures as tasteful and flirty. I called them honest and real. The title read: RONAN CONNOLLY WHISKS NEW GIRLFRIEND, HOLLIDAY PRESCOTT, OFF TO CABO SAN LUCAS.
In summary, the article said that I had a new leading lady in my life and I’d swept her off to Cabo San Lucas for a romantic vacation. Details about A London Love Story were cleverly added, and it stated that I’d be shooting my new film soon. There was a tiny blurb about Holliday, which confirmed that we had been spotted out and about the past few weeks in New York City. In an effort to minimize the attention this could bring to her life, Darcy and I had told Nina that she was only allowed to print that Holliday worked at Charlotte Ricchetti Designs and had been living in the city for the past few years.
“Oh, I personally love the photo of us kissing on the back of the boat, holding hands,” she said softly.
We both had a good laugh at some of the comments. Others stung a bit.
RONAN AND HOLLIDAY ARE THE NEW BRAD AND ANGELINA.
NO, NOT BRANGELINA, THEY ARE THE AMERICAN WILL AND KATE.
HOLLIDAY PRESCOTT IS BEAUTIFUL, I LOVE HER NAME.
RONAN CONNOLLY IS QUICKLY REPEATING HIS PAST. #INSTALOVE. #INSTAMISTAKE.
THAT WAS FAST. IT WON’T LAST WITH SERIAL DATER CONNOLLY.
HE ONLY DATES MOVIE STARS AND MODELS. THIS WILL BE OVER SOON. NOBODY CARES ABOUT HOLLIDAY PRESCOTT.
RONAN IS OFF THE MARKET ALREADY? MY LIFE IS OVER.
DOES ANYONE ELSE SEE THE IRONY HERE? RONAN AND HOLLIDAY— A RONAN HOLLIDAY.
“Do you see that picture?” She pointed out the scar on her shoulder.
Yes, that one. The letter “D.” It was clear as day.
The photo showed her hugging me, and my hand was on the small of her back. Fuck! Why couldn’t I have placed my hand over her scar? I had known damn well that a majority of the pictures would probably be PDA. That was what sold tabloids.
“Don’t worry,” I said reassuringly, picking my cell phone up. “I can have Nina remove the photo.”
“Wait,” she replied, grabbing my hand. “There are a ton of comments attached to that particular photo. I think it will raise more suspicion if we have it taken down.”
“Are you absolutely sure?” I asked, leaving the worry out of my voice. “Because with one phone call—”
“I should’ve had my cover-up on. I should’ve been more careful, knowing that my name and picture were going to be online, exposed for the whole world to see.” Throwing her hands in the air, she shook her head. “No! I’m done. Done making excuses. It’s fucking stupid.”
With that, she padded to the bar and poured a drink, knocking the amber liquid back. A thousand thoughts were reeling through my mind, the top one being that she was bravely taking a risk to help me. I prayed that Derek Saunders didn’t read celebrity gossip blogs.
Holliday stood near the terrace, twirling the ends of her hair—something she did when she was anxious. Silence hung in the salty air, and my heart clenched. I wanted her to live her life free of fear—I didn’t want to trigger more uneasiness. How could I have agreed to this stupid game with the media?
I was already gambling in a high-stakes game. One wrong move and I risked losing the only woman I had ever loved. My secret plan for Saunders was beginning to fall into place. I could only hope Holliday in no way made the connection.
“Hey,” I said warmly, but I’d be dammed if I wasn’t interrupted by her cell phone ringing.
Oddly enough, a few seconds later, mine rang too. It was my sister, Molly. No doubt, she had seen the pictures. For all the whiskey in Ireland, I’d bet she was calling to give me a piece of her mind.
“Molly. Cheers, dear sister,” I greeted her enthusiastically.
“Ronan Michael.” Her voice was sharp with her distinct English-Canadian accent.
It was the only way I could seem to describe her voice.
“When the hell were you going to tell me about your new lady?”
And the inquisition begins. “Come on, sis. You were next on my list of calls—honest.”
“Don’t be cute. Your charms may work on your adoring fans, but I’m immune to your bullshit.” Her voice rang light with laughter.
“Fine. You got me. Let me have your questions. I’ll answer them and then let you lecture me.”
“Ronan,” she wailed. “I’m not going to do that. This new woman, Holliday, is extremely beautiful.”
“Yes, she truly is. I’m absolutely mad about her.”
A slow smile spread across my face as my gaze caught Holliday pacing back and forth on the terrace, laughing. There’s my happy girl.
“So, how long have the two of you been together officially? I know the media says you were spotted few weeks ago, but I want the real story.”
Mentally, I prepped myself for my sister’s lengthy speech of devil’s advocacy before replying. “Well, Molly, the media actually has this one right. We’ve been together just shy of a month. We’re also going to be living together in Manhattan.”
“Wait. What? You moved to New York?”
I walked to the bar and poured a
drink. “Yes. I’m astonished Mom didn’t tell you.”
“Mom never tells me anything,” she huffed. “What’s with all the rush decisions, little brother?”
“There is no ulterior motive here. The truth is simple. I met and fell in love with this amazing, gorgeous woman.”
“You fell in love? Oh God, Ronan. Tell me she isn’t pregnant,” she chided.
I nearly choked on my whiskey. “Fuck, Molly!” I snapped. “Don’t start with me. If children are in the picture for us, it will be a mutual decision. Why the fuck am I even talking about kids? Jesus.”
“You seem to have some kind of super sperm Ronan. Ever heard of condoms?”
My blood was boiling. I wasn’t an idiot when it came to the proper procedures of birth control. “Hey, that’s not fair. I used them with Heather. It didn’t work. And for fuck’s sake, you know Emma stopped taking her birth control without me knowing.”
“Okay…okay. Calm down. That was a low blow. I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted. Unless you want to ask me a decent set of questions, we are quite finished with this interrogation.”
“Are you happy, Ronan? I mean truly happy?
Without any hesitation, I replied, “Molly, I’ve never been so fucking happy. Wait until you meet her. You will absolutely love her, and you’ll see exactly why I do.”
“Well, that’s all I care about,” she sighed. “Happy New Year, little brother.”
“Happy New Year. Give the family my best.”
Exhausted, I ended the call and then shoved the phone in my pocket. I figured I should call Ella before she saw the morning tabloids and blogs in London. My younger sister was a celebrity gossip junkie. She reads all the rubbish media rags. She also has found herself in the center of a few scandalous stories.
Knock, knock.
Looking up, I found Holliday casually leaning against the doorframe, holding a Corona in her hand, and grinning at me from ear to ear.
“What’s with the smile?”
“You told your sister about me,” she teased.
“Don’t get too excited. She’s a tough sell,” I replied, taking the bottle from her.
“I guess I will have to woo her like I did you.”
“Oh, please, do not do that. She’s happily married.” I kissed the tip of her nose. “Plus, I am fairly confident it was me who wooed you.”
“No worries, handsome. I don’t play for the other team,” she answered in that sultry tone that drove me wild with the need to fuck her.
“By the way, who was on the phone for you?” I asked before taking a swig of my beer.
“Charlotte. She and Lucan are in London and will be leaving for Manhattan in the morning. One more reminder that we have to get back to the real world and leave all of this.” She waved her hand, gesturing around the room.
I curled my arm around her shoulder, pulling her close to me. “Yes, but just think of all the new adventures we can look forward to.”
“Speaking of new, I think I bought too much stuff.”
I laughed. “Come on. Let’s go see about getting another suitcase to accommodate all of your things.”
Holliday
We landed at LAX shortly after nine a.m., and it was a media circus. Flash bulbs popped off all around us as we made our way through the airport terminal. Ronan pulled me close to him, whispering, “I’m going to kill the motherfucker who leaked our flight itinerary to the stalkerazzi.”
“Just be your charming polite self, and they won’t be so aggressive.”
“This lot of photogs are the wanker slime balls, the ones who camp out hoping to snag photos of celebrities. They make their living off selling celebrity pictures. They’re the lowest of the media food chain, and they are always aggressive.”
With a tight hold on my hand, he calmly asked the paparazzi to give us some room. For the most part, they granted his request. Waves of anxiety crawled up my throat, but I swallowed them down and kept my focus on Ronan’s lead.
“Ronan, how long will you be in Los Angeles?”
“Any truth that you and Heather Young have a sex tape?”
“Are you ready for the release of ‘A London Love Story’?”
“Is it true that your ex-wife is marrying Dax Martin next weekend?”
“Are the rumors that you knocked up your new girlfriend true?”
Jesus! My mind swirled with heaviness. How did they come up with these ridiculous questions? Knots tugged at my stomach.
Finally, we arrived at the baggage terminal and were immediately greeted by two security guards. Definitely two guys I wouldn’t want anyone to tangle with in a fight.
“Hey, guys. Good to see you,” Ronan said, shaking their hands. “I have a driver meeting us outside in about ten minutes. Can we get some help?”
“Good to see you, Mr. Connolly. We’ll make sure you and Miss Prescott get to your vehicle safely.”
Some members of the paparazzi pack trickled off. I overheard one of them say that reality star Melanie Owens had arrived in terminal seven and was at the Coffee Bean. Good for her. She needed more press—positive press.
Ronan’s hand landed on the small of my back, and he ushered me to follow the gentleman with our baggage cart.
One of the paparazzi shouted, “Holliday! Is it true that your stepdad is Perry Chambers of Avalon Films?”
Fuck! Now, the personal whirlwind had ascended upon me. My skin prickled like hundreds of tiny needles were stabbing at my skin. But I kept walking, never missing a beat. My heart thrummed against my chest, yet my expression was cleverly covered by my sunglasses.
When the glass doors opened, the breeze hit my face, along with the familiar scent of Los Angeles smog. It was glorious.
Hello, California. I have missed you.
Ronan had our driver take us to his new place first before heading to Emma’s. He made me promise to accompany him there when my schedule allowed. The view from the high-rise penthouse was gorgeous, but the home itself was absolutely incredible. Located in Laurel Canyon, the tri-level house reflected his style with both contemporary and modern touches. It was furnished already, too. Some of the furniture still had plastic wrap and price tags on it. Mostly made up of a grey-black-and-white color palette mixed with stone accents and hardwood floors, the space was warm and bright with the floor-to-ceiling windows creating walls of glass that overlooked the city and the ocean.
“Wow, this place is sensational. This view.” I took a deep breath. “When I think of rental properties, this does not come to mind.”
Ronan lifted an eyebrow in my direction, and his mouth curved into a sly smile. “Yes, about that,” he smirked. “I bought this place.”
As confusion spread across my face, he explained that the house was a better investment with a prime location. Plus, he didn’t want to throw his money away by renting. I couldn’t argue with his logic.
“How much is this place, and are you sure you can afford it?”
Once I’d said the words, I realized I’d just asked a movie star if he could afford a lavish three-bedroom home. And by the look on his face, he thought I was kidding.
“Holliday,” he said, his deep voice booming with laughter. “I can afford it, trust me.”
As I stared at him, I wondered how much money he had. He’d only been acting for a few years. Two of his movies were independent films, which typically didn’t earn a ton of money. I didn’t know how much male fashion earned, but I was guessing he must have a made a pretty penny.
Not that I cared about the money. I’d suddenly become aware that he had it.
“What are you thinking?”
I shook my head. “I don’t want to say.”
He tucked a strand of loose hair behind my ear, smiling sweetly. “If you have something on your mind, I’d like to help if I can. No secrets,” he lectured softly.
“Okay, here goes. How much money do you have?” My question twisted inside me, and I was both embarrassed and irritated at my curiosity.
But he just smiled. “I’m rich. Filthy rich. Not the kind of wealth that can buy a small country or even a football team.” He paused for a moment. “Well, maybe I could.” He grinned, flashing a wink. “I want for nothing. My children want for nothing,” he stepped closer to me, his glimmering green eyes swept over me as he said, “And you’ll want for nothing.”
His lips settled on mine, as he gave me a sweet lingering kiss. I felt better, but not because I’d learned that he might had have a fortress of money stashed somewhere or possibly stacks of gold bars and jewels. I loved the comforting honesty between us.
Sure, for some people, it’s easy to say that money doesn’t matter, but when you’ve had money and you suddenly find yourself without, your world view changes. Not that I had been in control of anything my parents had done with their financial choices, but looking back, I found it easy to see how they’d fucked up.
Nothing could have prepared me, Charlotte, or even my mother for the sudden shift in our income. It had been rough for about six months. Even though Mom had landed a job as an event planner at a local hotel, her income had only paid for the essentials. We’d cut things out. Simple luxuries we hadn’t thought a thing about before were gone. No more tennis lessons for me. Charlotte gave up piano, but she got a part-time job and stuck with ballet. Our tuition had already been paid, so we were able to finish the school year after my father had died. But when September rolled around, we had to transfer to public school—on top of dealing with my dad’s death, my mother’s dating adventures, and trying to make new friends at a new school.
It was one of the worst times in my young life.
When Mom started dating Perry, our lives changed again—for the better. I loved my stepdad. He loved my mom, and he treated Charlotte and me like we were his very own daughters. In some ways, we were. Perry had no kids of his own, and Mom was the first woman he’d married.
With everything that had happened after my dad’s death, I was keenly aware of my own spending habits. I refuse to let my checking account get below a certain dollar amount. I’d been actively involved in the ins and outs of the generous trust that had been gifted to me by my stepfather. I’d invested some money and diversified a fair sum in different accounts per Lucan’s suggestions.
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