Perfectly Scripted (5 page)

“I…I’m so…s-sorry,” I stammered. “I don’t know…what came over me.” Realizing he had just witnessed one of my night terrors, I began to sob.

He sat on the bed cradling me in his arms. “Shh— I’ve got you,” he murmured into my hair.

Tears trickled, stinging my heated cheeks. The mixture of lingering booze in my system and the oncoming headache hindered my ability to think clearly. Flashes of the ugly memories swept through my mind. When I went back to that place so vividly, guilt, fear, and sadness took over, crippling my emotions.

But why do I go back there? What is my trigger? Think! Dammit! Think!

“Please don’t cry. You’re safe with me,” he said, kissing my shoulder. Curling beside me, he wrapped one arm over my stomach and his left leg fell over both of mine. “Talk to me. You had a nightmare, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You were dreaming about the night you were…” He swallowed hard. “That horrible night.”

“Yes,” I sobbed. “Something triggered the nightmare.”

Where is that music coming from?

“Do you hear that music?” I looked up and saw the speaker in the ceiling.

“Oh, yes. I must have forgotten to turn off the sound system after we went to bed.”

After turning on the light, he climbed out of bed and walked over to the living area. I closed my eyes, trying to focus on the lyrics. Then he flipped off the music, and after a few moments, it hit me.

Oh God! Oh no!

Sweat formed on the back of my neck. Ronan crossed back towards me and then stopped at the foot of the bed. Rolling up from underneath the covers, I stared into his beautiful, green eyes—and I remembered.

Images of the two of us having sex, the music pounding through the speakers, and our bodies coupled with odor of cigars and tequila all hurled back to my memory.

God, I feel sick. Fuck!

“Hey,” he said, climbing back into bed. “You look ill. Are you okay? Do you want some water?”

I started crying again, telling him that I was so sorry. Parts of me were damaged and broken, and I was sorry for that. Ronan was an incredibly understanding man, but would he understand this? Could he ever forgive me?

“Talk to me.”

I couldn’t stand this pain. My heart plunged to the pit of my stomach.

“Last time I had a nightmare was when you left and I was alone at The York.”

“What do you think happened this time?” he asked softly. His eyes met mine, and somehow, I thought he knew.

I expelled a deep breath. “The cigars and the music, I think triggered that memory.” With my voice barely a whisper, I managed to croak out, “And…maybe even the sex.”

My heart crumbled as sadness washed over Ronan’s face. Like the glow of a fading flame, the sparkle dimmed from his eyes. He stared at me blankly, and after a few moments, he lowered his head. Then he climbed out of bed and into the shower.

Water poured over him as he stood motionless with his palms pressed flat against the tile wall and his legs stretched behind him. Steam enveloped the room and fogged the glass, so I could only see the shadow of his body as I lay in bed sobbing. No doubt he was trying to drown himself or wash away the soul-crushing pain I had caused him. I should have followed suit and marched right out to the water. Let the waves carry me away to the darkest depths of the ocean.

Had I soiled the most intimate part of our relationship?
What the fuck have I done?
I must have shattered him into a million pieces. Fearing something was broken between us now, I wasn’t sure how to repair the damage. At some point, I managed to fall asleep through my aching pain and muffled sobs. And I never heard or felt Ronan slip back into bed.

Our last full day in paradise before jetting back to Manhattan and we had to spend it putting on a show for the tabloids. While I wasn’t thrilled with the idea, I was resolved to remain upbeat for Ronan. Being photographed alongside my lethally sexy movie star boyfriend while spending a romantic day on a private yacht? My life could have been worse.

Although, after last night, I wasn’t sure that our slightly scripted romantic adventure was still happening. Lying in bed, I stared at the ceiling, listening to the waves crashing outside. Ronan’s side of the bed was cold, and he was nowhere in sight. Uneasy, I rolled out of bed and then padded on bare feet towards the living room.

While wandering aimlessly around the villa, I noticed that Ronan’s pajama bottoms were casually tossed over the chair in the bathroom. Well, at least his luggage was still in the closet. He hadn’t fled and left me to fend for myself in a foreign country. He probably went for a workout or a walk. I was sure he needed to clear his head.

But when I checked my phone to see if he’d sent me a message, there was nothing. His iPad was sitting on the dining room table though. And a notepad and pen were nearby, but nothing was written. So I turned his iPad on. Several articles were open.

HOW TO HELP A LOVED ONE WHO’S BEEN RAPED

SOMEONE I LOVE HAS BEEN SEXUALLY ASSAULTED

RAPE CRISIS INFORMATION

WHAT TO DO WHEN SOMEONE YOU LOVE IS SUFFERING FROM RAPE OR ABUSE

WHAT IS RAPE TRAUMA SYNDROME?

A MAN’S GUIDE TO HELPING A WOMAN WHO HAS BEEN RAPED

Was he up all night reading?

Passages had been highlighted, specifically on the topics of flashbacks, night terrors, panic attacks, and dissociation. My heart flooded with an overwhelming sense of gratitude.

I placed his iPad back on the table, and went to take a shower. The hot water surging over my skin soothed some of the tension I was feeling. Still, I desperately wanted to talk to him about what had transpired last night. Clearing the air was my top priority.

A cool breeze tinged my skin. I felt Ronan behind me even before he spoke.

“Hi, my beauty.”

“Hi,” I said, throwing my arms around his neck, to hug him tight. He drew my mouth to his, kissing me heatedly.

“Where were you?” I asked.

Running his hands through my wet hair and over my shoulders, he stared at me. We stood in silence for so long that the glass shower door fogged over, trapping us together again. I had become familiar being with him in this place, where the whole world was shut out and we were intimately close.

“Ronan,” I mumbled, tracing the curve of his jaw.

“I
know,” he whispered, closing the gap between us by pulling me to him. Then he let out a deep sigh, pressing his forehead to mine. Lowering his mouth, his firm lips parted and he swept his tongue against mine. As I moaned into his kisses, a mixture of sweet relief and erotic torture cascaded through me. We finished our shower in silence, but my aching mind was comforted by knowing that Ronan had come back to me.

As I straightened my hair at the vanity, I turned to him. He was seated on the edge, enjoying his morning coffee.

“Do you mind if we talked about last night?”

He nodded, giving me a halfhearted smile.

“First, I’m so incredibly sorry, I feel sick about this whole thing.”

“You don’t need to apologize, Holliday.” He paused for a few beats. “I did some research last night because I wanted to know more about your…condition. You call them
triggers
. I didn’t know how to process the possibility that our having sex might have caused your nightmare.”

“Yes.” I swallowed hard. “Triggers vary…and…” I couldn’t speak past the ache in my heart at the thought of Ronan facing my nightmare.

A cold knot tightened in my gut. Yes, I had been up front and honest with him when he had asked. I’d given him all the gory details, but now, he’d witnessed firsthand the subconscious battle I fought against the men who’d brutally attacked me.

“Goddammit!” I yelled in frustration, tired of feeling this way.

“Hey. There is no timeline on your healing process.” He stood in front of me, rubbing my shoulders in an effort to soothe me. “I’m here to support you, not push you into anything that causes you to relapse.”

A twinge of pain shot through my stomach. I had to choke back the bile that had come up my throat.

“It’s
not
you. Please, don’t be afraid to touch me, okay? Promise me, Ronan. Promise me that you won’t treat me like a fragile piece of china because of this one incident. I swear my heart won’t be able to take it if you pulled away. I intend to keep fighting. In no way do I want my issues to hurt you or come between us.”

Ronan searched my face, and his eyes met mine. “I’ll never stop touching you.” He kissed my cheek. “Just try to stop me from keeping my hands off your gorgeous body. I love that you have such a strong fight in you.”

“Also, I want to be clear: Please, don’t feel that you will say or do the wrong thing.” I smiled and stood tall. “What I’m trying to say is: I
can
handle the desire you have to command things of me sexually. Don’t feel like you can’t be rough with me—because I
do
like it.”

He squared up to me. “Good, because I plan to help you break down these walls. When I told you I was the last man you’d ever tell your story to, I meant it. I’m not going anywhere.” His arms banded around my waist.

My heart sang with joy. Relief echoed in my brain.

“Thank you,” I said.

He quirked an eyebrow at me. “For what?”

“For giving me your love, and for not running for the hills when things get tough.” I laughed softly.

“
Holliday
…”

The way he whispered my name felt like he was breathing hope back into my soul. His eyes glimmered brightly. Pushing my hair back, his lips grazed against mine with a sweet and tender kiss.

“I’ll never run away. I’m here, and you
never
have to be afraid. Now, finish getting ready, because we have to be at the marina in an hour.” He smiled, smacking my ass with the rolled-up newspaper.

I playfully shoved his arm, giving him a sour face as he exited the bathroom.

With renewed determination, I resolved to keep fighting. For myself. For Ronan. I was done being broken. It ended now.

We had spent the day taking tons of photos, swimming, and lounging in the sun. Ronan tried his hand at fishing while I lounged on the sundeck. We sipped Coronas while giving plenty of PDA for Franklin to capture for the tabloids. I never noticed any cameras while we were out. It was truly the perfect day.

We returned from our boating excursion exhausted, so I decided to take a dip in the plunge pool while Ronan excused himself to take a call from Nina. I tipped my head back and let the warm water wash over me as I sank to the bottom of the pool. When I returned to the surface, Ronan was calling my name.

“Holliday, do you want a beer or some wine?”

“I’ll have another Corona with lime, please.”

He handed me a beer and sat on the side of the pool, his feet dangling in the water.

“What did Nina have to say?”

“The pictures will be online shortly,” he said before tossing back a swig of beer. “She told me that the pictures are very convincing of two people in love and she believes that the public will forget about the Grady James incident in no time.”