Unforgettable 2 (Hollywood Love Story #2) (27 page)

“Just in case.” She slips her phone back into her purse and fakes a yawn. “I do need my beauty sleep, especially in light of the big event tomorrow. And I think with a little space between us, you’ll come to your senses.”

She saunters toward my bedroom. “The porter will be up shortly with all my luggage. And a bottle of Cristal. Just have him bring everything directly to my room.”

“Fine.” I stab the word at her.

“And, darling, don’t forget to do what I asked you to do. I
never
want to see that fat cunt again!”

She disappears and I begin to clean up the remains of her rampage. It takes me over an hour. Emotionally and physically drained, I sink into the couch where The Gooch, who’s come out of hiding, shortly joins me. A small comfort.

I weakly pet him and look to him for answers. He cocks his head and stares at me with his big brown puppy eyes.

It’s hopeless. With the little dog curled up beside me, I bury my face in my hands.

Zoey, Zoey, Zoey.

What the fuck am I going to do?

Zoey

I
’m curled up in an easy chair in complete darkness, the blackout curtains drawn. The only light in the room comes from my cell phone, which is on my lap. I glance down at it. It’s one a.m. It’s been over two hours. My stomach is twisted in a torturous knot, every cell in my body crackling with anticipation. Why doesn’t he call me? Or email me? Or text me? He said he would. Or better yet, knock down my door? Sweep me off my feet and carry me off to some deserted island where only the two of us exist. Far away from the fucking bitch.

I’m in love. Hopelessly, helplessly in love with Brandon Taylor. I think I’ve always loved him. From the first moment I set eyes on him. He’s always been the master of my universe. But now, tonight in Cannes, he became the master of my soul. The part of me that’s reserved for only sinners and lovers.

I am a new woman. I have sinned. And I have loved. With all my heart, all my body, and all my soul. Addicted to his dominant force, his dominant pleasure, I have broken a cardinal rule. Never sleep with your boss. Even worse, I’ve fallen hard in love with him. Ceded all control over my emotions, trespassed all physical boundaries, and defied my moral integrity out of lust and greed. Completely submitted to him with not a soupçon of regret. “It’s complicated” is the understatement of the century. I want him so badly there’s a knife in my chest.

Another hour passes. Still no word. My jet-lagged eyelids are as heavy as lead. The only thing that’s keeping me awake is the ache between my legs. That persistent throbbing that won’t go away. I’m losing hope, getting more anxious with each labored breath. Maybe he’s gone back to stunning “It Girl” Katrina and is fucking
her
brains out right now. I shudder at the thought. Maybe I was a fly by night fling. Just his little fuck toy. Maybe all that stuff he told me about her was pure bullshit and all those lines he used on me were just lies. Pure acting. That explains why he never mentioned breaking up with her before this trip. My heart clenches at the possibility of deceit and even harder at the uncertainty of our future. He didn’t after all say he loved me. So, he has feelings toward me. What does that mean? Maybe there’s no difference between saying bring me my Starbucks and bring me to orgasm. Am I just a convenient doormat he can get off on?

With a sickening, sinking feeling, I finally doze off. A ping of my phone awakens me. I snap open my eyes and bolt upright. I glimpse the time—4:45 a.m.—and then go straight to my emails. My pulse sounds in my ears and my chest tightens against my breastbone. It’s from Brandon! And marked
URGENT
in the subject line. My heart beats so hard, I can barely breathe. With a trembling finger, I open it.

I have no choice but to terminate your employment contract effective immediately. I expect you to honor your non-disclosure agreement and share nothing you know about my personal life with anyone, especially the media. If you fail to do so, I will be
forced to
take legal actions that will result in costly litigation.

Please remove all your personal belongings from my premises as quickly as possible. Good luck with your future endeavors.

—
Brandon Taylor

The words collide in my head like bumper cars, my emotions coming at me from every direction. So out of control, I hyperventilate. It takes all I have not to faint or vomit. I feel like someone’s taken an ax to my heart and hacked it. Oh the pain! The guilt! I did it to myself. I fell for him! No, I fell for his fucking act! The bastard! I hate him! But I hate one person more. No, not Katrina. Myself. Self-loathing mixes with self-pity. I allowed him to make me his fuck toy. I submitted. How naïve and gullible could I be? All along, there was never anyone except Katrina. Devastation devours me in a single gulp. I hit delete. Finally, another, more powerful emotion sets in. Sorrow. The tears finally fall. My greatest love has become my greatest loss.

Five numbing minutes later, my bag is packed. That’s because I’m taking virtually nothing with me. All the stunning outfits, including the lingerie and accessories Brandon bought me, are staying behind. Maybe some hotel housekeeper will find them and enjoy them. Play dress-up in them and have her own Prince Charming fantasy that I hope will come true.

Battling my tears, I arrange for a flight home. The ticket is ridiculously expensive, but I don’t care. I put it on my credit card. It’s departing at eight a.m.

My hotel phone rings, and the voice of the concierge lets me know my driver is here. Do I need help with my bags? I tell her no and that I’ll be down in a few minutes. My mind and heart distraught, I decide to write Brandon a note. It’s more for me than for him. I need closure and some semblance of dignity. Sitting down at the desk, I take a sheet of the hotel’s signature écru stationary and put a pen to it. Tears blur my vision.

Brandon~

This is goodbye. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to work with you
.
The guesthouse will be cleared out by the time you get back to LA. You can be sure
I will honor our non-disclosure agreement and treasure our time spent together.

I will always remember you. You’re unforgettable.

~Zoey
♥

By the time I add the heart, a regrettable afterthought, sobs are wracking my body. With quivering hands, I fold the letter and slip it into an envelope before my tears blotch it up. I cannot bear to write the words again.

With my roller bag in one hand and the letter in the other, I stagger out of my hotel room. At this wee hour in the morning, the elevator comes quickly and descends without stops to the lobby. While last night it was bustling, the lobby at this hour is all but deserted. Wheeling my bag, I trudge to the front desk. The lovely lady who checked us in is still there. This must be the end of her long shift. She’s as cheerful as ever.

“Ah, bonjour, Mademoiselle Hart. Can I help you?”

“I’m checking out.”

“Oh? Was everything okay?”

“Y-yes.” I stammer, thinking of something that will explain my puffy, bloodshot eyes. It comes to me quickly. “I have a sudden emergency at home.”

“I am so sorry to hear that. Would you like me to call a taxi to take you to
zee
airport?”

“Thank you, but I’ve arranged everything through the concierge.”

A smile of approval curls on her face as I set my letter to Brandon on the counter. “Would you be kind enough to get this to Monsieur Taylor?”

“
Bien sur
. I’ll have someone leave it under his door.”

“Thank you very much.”

With relentless, pulsing pain, I head to the hotel entrance.

Au revoir
, Cannes.

Au revoir
, Brandon.

Au revoir
, forever.

FADE TO BLACK

END OF BOOK 2

COMING IN JANUARY 2016!

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Brandon:
I fucked up big time. She never wants to see me again. I may have a cock that belongs in a museum, but I’m the biggest dick in the world. My psycho fiancée, Katrina Moore, has got me by the balls. In just a few weeks, we’re getting married live on TV. With my career on the line, I have no choice. I’m facing the most difficult decision I’ll ever have to make. I’m damned if I do; damned if I don’t.

Zoey:
How could he do that to me? He used and abused me, made me his doormat. All the things he said and did to me were just an act. Stupid me for falling in love with him. He stole my heart, my body, and my soul. But there’s one thing he’s not going to take away from me—my dignity. There’s a reason I don’t own a TV. I can’t bear to watch him say his forever vows to the woman he chose over me. Oh, Brandon Taylor…my dreammaker, heartbreaker. You’ll always be unforgettable.

Hold on to your seats for the steamy, action-packed conclusion to Nelle L’Amour’s bestselling new series. Be prepared to laugh, cry, and swoon!

Dearest Lovely Readers~

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UNFORGETTABLE 2
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UNFORGETTABLE 3
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