Perfectly Scripted (17 page)

“Actually, yes. In regards to Emma and Heather, your instincts were wrong on both counts. I’m surprised I haven’t fired your ass yet.”

Ben laughed. “You keep me around because I’m right about a lot of things: your projects, modeling gigs, and getting you in suitable movie roles. The career path you’re going on right now is because of my expertise. I cannot help it that you can’t keep it in your pants. That’s all on you.”

“That’s right. Your job is to manage my career,
not
my personal life. Glad we cleared that up.”

“Sometimes the two intersect and you know it.”

My mind was racing as anger bubbled inside me. I really wanted to burst in and introduce myself to Manager Ben, perhaps give him piece of my mind.

“Tell me why Holliday shouldn’t walk the red carpet with me?”

“Because, if she walks the carpet with you, all the questions will be about the two of you and your new relationship, and we need the questions to focus on the movie. This is huge, Ronan. The best scenario is to have you and Lana on that red carpet together.”

“For the record, Ronan, I don’t agree with Ben on this one.” Darcy projected a deep sigh from the phone’s intercom.

“Here’s a scenario: What are you going to do if some asshole reporter asks you about Grady and Holliday kissing last December? Are you going to punch him?” He laughed harshly. “Your relationship with this woman has caused some major drama in your life. Let’s not forget you were almost snubbed for consideration for the Van Wyk film
because
of your fight with Mr. James.”

My breath caught in my throat. Ronan had almost lost out on a movie he wanted badly because of his fight with Grady? I’d had no idea.

My phone lit up—Blake was alerting me that he was outside with the car. Feeling relieved to have to walk away, I turned on my heel and headed towards the elevator. I got as far as the butler’s pantry before being startled by someone gripping my upper arm.

I spun around to see Ronan smiling. My shoulders relaxed as his hand drifted down my arm, locking his fingers to mine.

“Sorry. I just wanted to tell you to have a wonderful day.”

“Thank you,” I said, mustering a smile.

He bent down and kissed me, thrusting his tongue into my mouth. Warmth flooded my veins, melting the coldness I’d felt only moments ago.

“Tell me you love me.”

“Madly, Mr. Connolly.”

Staring into my eyes, he cupped my face. “That’s fitting, because I’m crazy in love with you, Miss Prescott.”

My morning went by swiftly, which was a welcome relief. Staying busy, I kept my mind focused and off the conversation I’d overheard earlier. Additionally, I was comforted by Ronan’s declaration of love before I’d left the house. But, as lunch time came, I was left alone with my thoughts. I wondered when he was going to tell me that Ben thought it best I not walk the red carpet with him. I let out a frustrated groan and my head hit my desk.

Knock, knock…

“Sleeping on the job, my dear?”

I’d have recognized that voice anywhere. My eyes darted up to confirm what my ears had registered.

Margaret “Maggie” Mills, former playwright turned Upper East Side socialite, was standing in my doorway. Maggie held many titles, including patron of the arts, philanthropist, survivor, but my favorite title was friend. She looked elegant wearing a black and white Chanel pantsuit and classic tweed coat.

Her Dior sunglasses slid over the slim slope of her perfect nose, revealing her light-green eyes. As she unbuttoned her coat, my eyes were transfixed on the diamonds and pearls hanging from her neck. My mouth salivated at the sight of the red—her signature color—Hermès bag she dropped onto the sofa.

Her arms opened wide. “Hello, darling Holliday. Come here, lovely girl.”

The sound of her deep, sultry voice made me smile and giddy with excitement. Maggie was like a second mother to me. I loved her so much.

I rushed into her arms, hugging her tight. “Maggie, it’s so wonderful to see you.”

“Let me look at you, Cookie.” Pushing back from me, she extended my arms away from my body. Letting my wrists go, she instructed me to spin around.

I blushed at her theatrics, but that was one thing I loved about her. She was vivacious.

“You’re a stunner, darling. No wonder you landed Ronan Connolly.”

“Maggie Mills, have
you
been reading the tabloids?” I motioned for her to take a seat on my couch.

“Please, darling. The gossip comes to me.” She winked. “Information is a valuable commodity.”

I laughed. “Of course it is.”

“Damn right. Why do you think I am such a legend in this town?”

That was a rhetorical question. However, many answers came to mind. Not only was Maggie brilliant and loving, but she was powerful and tough as nails. Maggie’s own assault could have left her damaged beyond repair, but she fought back every day. And she taught me to do the very same thing.

“Tell me about this lad,” she prompted, clasping her hands in her lap. “Come on, darling. You know I’m just brimming with curiosity.”

I told her everything, of course, like how we met in the lobby at The York. I gave her the highlights, from our week together at the penthouse to our amazing vacation in Cabo and how we were living together now. I told her about the amazing sex and our deep connection because I wanted her take on it all. When I looked up, she was bright-eyed and biting her lip.

“Maggie, what are you thinking?”

“I’m feeling that you should have put a warning label on that story and handed me a gin and tonic,” she laughed warmly and patted my leg. “Dinner and show! Bravo, doll.”

As my cheeks heated, my smiled widened. “We’re totally in sync with each other. It feels wonderful to have this kind of passion and love in my life.”

“I can see you are quite smitten.”

“What about you? Is there anyone special in your life these days?”

She shifted, pulling her right leg over her left. “There may be one or two suitors,” she replied modestly. “We will talk about that another time.” Then she opened her bag and removed an ivory envelope with my name written in bright-red script.

“What’s this?” I asked, taking the envelope from her.

“That,” she stated firmly, pointing to the envelope, “is an invitation to my home on Saturday evening. I expect you there at seven o’clock sharp. I’m hosting a small cocktail party, so bring your fella.”

She stood, tossing her coat on over her shoulders. I winced upon hearing the words because Ronan would be gone. He wouldn’t get to meet Maggie, which made me sad.

“Ronan will be out of town, unfortunately. He has a press tour for his new movie.”

“Pity,” she said, pursing her lips. “Well, I guess I will meet him soon enough.” She kissed both of my cheeks, and I walked her to the elevator. “Do call me, Holliday, and let’s make time for brunch in the coming weeks.”

“That sounds lovely. I will call you.”

“Bye, Cookie.”

I said goodbye and headed towards the breakroom to see if anything had been catered in for lunch. During busy times, Charlotte often had meals delivered so employees could relax and not feel rushed to grab lunch.

“Holliday, there you are!” my sister shrieked.

“What’s up?”

She shoved me around the corner into the hallway. My back slammed up against the wall.

“Jeez. Manhandle me much?” I groaned, pushing off the wall. “What the hell, Char?”

“Sorry,” she said in a hushed whisper. “You and me, liquid lunch. Let’s go right now.”

I shook my head. “If I’m leaving work early today, it’s to go home and spend time with Ronan, not to get drunk with you.” I laughed.

“Fine.” She blew out a breath and leaned against the wall.

“So, what? You want to leave work for martinis and champagne only days before your fashion show?”

“Well, that was my plan until you said no.” She frowned, crossing her arms.

“What’s wrong with you? You’re behaving strangely.”

She pressed her index finger to her lips and motioned for me to follow her. We rounded the corner to my office. Once inside, she locked the door and pulled the blinds.

Now, I was really worried.

“Okay,” she began in a hushed voice. “This might turn out to be nothing, but I just got off the phone with one of my contacts at
Belle Magazine,
and she told me that crazy intern I fired a year ago is claiming I stole her design ideas and have been passing them off as my own.”

My jaw hit the floor. “Mel—”

“
Don’t
even
say her name,” she warned.

This was unimaginable gossip. Charlotte had no reason to be worried though. This chick was batshit crazy. She couldn’t remember simple coffee orders or even manage to process a fabric order on time. How in the world was anyone going to believe she could have designed an entire ready-to-wear line?

“Sis, this is laughable. Plain and simple, that girl is a nut job. Besides, that’s what you have lawyers for. Don’t worry.” I gave her a reassuring grin.

“Well, I am worried,” she sighed, dropping to the couch.

“Why?” I shrugged.

She sat up from the couch, looking me dead in the eyes. “If not for anything other than the fact that we are dealing with a crazy person. Maybe I should have pressed charges.”

“You cannot dwell on your decisions. Besides, you have a restraining order against her. She cannot hurt you or come near your home, this place, or your show. Is that what you are concerned about?”

Charlotte stood, wrapping her arms tight around herself. “Yeah. Admittedly, I still see her wielding those scissors inches from my face, threatening me.”

Taking a step forward, I said, “Luckily, security got there before she could harm you.”

Tight lipped, she nodded. “Thank God for that.”

A few moments of silence hung in the air. I watched the emotions change on her face as she remembered that encounter with Melina.

Waving her hands in the air, she said, “Enough with this nonsense. Like you said, that is what I have lawyers for. So, tell me what’s up with you?”

I could have told her about the conversation I’d overheard with Ronan, Ben, and Darcy this morning, but that would have been an added stressor. Instead, I smiled and told her that I was excited for the show and encouraged her to take the rest of the afternoon off or try to go home early if she could.

“I’m planning to see Simon at his office later about this mess, and now, I’m going to call Lucan to give him a heads-up on this issue.”

“Good. Everything will be all right. Simon is very good at his job. He’ll know how to handle this legally and quietly.” I hugged Charlotte, and then she left my office, hopefully feeling better.

Waves of anxiety crept inside me, however. Remembering what Dr. Goodwin said, I closed the door and turned the lights off. I walked to my desk and dabbed some oil on my wrists. With my yoga mat unfolded, I sat with my legs crossed and said a quick prayer. Then I began my breathing exercises. Before I knew it, I was calm and relaxed once again I’d managed my stress without a pill, and that was a wonderful feeling. Charlotte might need me, and I made a promise to myself to be there for her through what could be a difficult storm.

You’ve been my rock the last few years, sis. Now, let me be yours.