Unforgettable 3 (Hollywood Love Story #3) (19 page)

Brandon

W
hen we return to The Four Seasons, the place is swarming with news crews, reporters, and cops. I have no clue if the production team from Katrina’s show is still here, but for sure, our guests have abandoned the hotel. Well, all except Blake Burns and his wife Jennifer, who are mingling with the Conquest Broadcasting news crew. I quickly find out from one of the officers that Scott’s still alive and has been transported to Cedars. In the corner of my eye, I see Katrina’s mother Enid talking to one of the reporters. She catches sight of me as well as Zoey, who’s holding Gucci (minus the tutu) by his leash. Leaving the reporter hanging, she stomps up to me.

“Where the hell have you been?”

I contain my laughter. “I’ve been busy saving lives.”

Steam blows out of her nostrils. I can virtually see it. “The only life you should be saving is my daughter’s. She’s been arrested!”

“She deserves to be.” In the car ride over here, Zoey filled me in on everything she discovered on Katrina’s cell phone. The fucking psycho bitch. Not only did she run me over, but she also was after my money and screwing around with Scott—something I always suspected. There are still a lot of missing pieces and unanswered questions, including motives and Scott’s relationship with Donatelli. But I’m sure they’ll unfold in the weeks to come.

Enid’s taut face scrunches as much as it can. “The bail is set at one hundred thousand dollars. You need to take care of it immediately!”

I’ve had enough of Enid and Katrina spending my money.

Rage flickers in Enid’s unblinking eyes. “What the hell are you waiting for? Chop chop!”

And I’ve had it with all her chop chops.

“I’m afraid I can’t.”

Enid grows hysterical, her voice shrill. “What do you mean? You’re her fiancé. You’re supposed to be marrying her!”

I stare at her squarely. “Enid, I had no intention of marrying Katrina.”

“What?” says Zoey before Enid can.

I take her into my arms and kiss the top of her head. “Baby, it was always going to be you.”

Zoey gazes up at me with puppy eyes that make me melt.

Enid’s face turns as dark as her heart. “What the hell to you mean?”

“I mean I was
never
in love with her. Meet my new fiancée.”

“Hi,” squeaks Zoey.

Enid glares at her, aghast, and then flares her eyes at me. “What! You’re ditching my daughter for this chubby p-peon?”

A growl sounds in my ear and the next thing I hear is a loud shriek from Enid. She gazes down and shrieks again.

“Fucking dog! Somebody help me! Get this monster off me!”

Zoey is laughing; so am I. Gucci has attacked Enid. Bitten her twice in the ankle. Zoey scoops him up in her arms before he does it again.

She tuts. “Bad doggie.”

Good doggie!
We exchange an amused look as Enid limps off, mentioning something about a lawsuit and shouting for someone to give her first-aid. She needs a whole lot more than a Band-Aid to fix the hole in her warped mind.

Setting Gucci back down, Zoey takes in the frenetic scene. A little overwhelmed, she knits her brows. “Brandon, maybe we should have eloped.”

I flip up her chin with a thumb. “Nah. We’re going to do it right here and the whole world is going to watch. Maybe not on Katrina’s reality series, but at least on tonight’s news. By the time we say, “I do,” it’ll be all over YouTube, Instagram, and TMZ.

“Really?”

“Really.” She’s so fucking adorable she’s giving me a hard-on. If you ask me, no better way to get to married. And the sooner we get married the better. It’s a good thing my custom-made tux pants have extra crotch room.

Catching sight of me, hordes of reporters rush up to me. I’m bombarded with blinding flash bulbs and burning questions. To most of them, I respond: “No comment.”

A young Latino reporter from Conquest Broadcasting breaks out of the pack and shoves her mike in my face.

“So, Brandon, will you still be getting married tonight?”

Smiling, I squeeze Zoey’s hand. “That’s the plan.”

“To Katrina Moore?”

“A change of plans. Meet my new fiancée, Zoey Hart.”

A gazillion flashes go off. Zoey smiles brightly for the cameras and waves. Meet America’s
newest
“It Girl.”

Before any reporter can besiege her, I say, “We just need to find someone who can marry us.” The drunken preacher from Central Casting is long gone; he must work by the hour and be at the bar.

The reporter’s face lights up. “I can do that. I’m a newly ordained minister from the Universal Church of Life.”

The Church of Life.
No other ministry better suits Zoey and me. Let’s get this show rolling. Lights! Camera! Action!

Five minutes later, we’re standing in the flowered gazebo under the starry sky. Gucci is with us, Zoey still holding him by his leash. Blake and Jen have agreed to be our impromptu best man and maid of honor. And miraculously, Pete and his wife Jo have gotten here just in the nick of time along with Zoey’s brother Jeffrey and his fiancé Chaz. Myriad camera crews and reporters surround us. Facing my soon-to-be wife, I slide a platinum band on her ring finger until it lines up perfectly with her amethyst ring and recite my vows. They’re almost identical to those I exchanged with my late wife Alisha on
Kurt Kussler.
But the words mean something so much deeper now. I’m not acting the lines. I’m saying them for real. They come from the bottom of my heart.

“Zoey Hart, from this day on…You. Are. Mine. I promise to cherish you and protect you for as long as I live. For richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, in good times and bad times until death do us part.”

With her free hand, Zoey slips a matching band on my ring finger. Her chocolate eyes are glistening with tears. She repeats some of my words and then adds a few of her own. “Brandon, my love, I will be yours for all of eternity. You’ll always own my heart even after I part.”

The words of our officiant pronouncing us man and wife drift into my ears as I take my beautiful wife into my arms and kiss her madly. She moans into my mouth. Amidst the clicking cameras, I can hear Auntie Jo sniffling.

“Mr. Taylor, what’s our next activity?” Zoey asks softly after we finally break the kiss.

I trace her luscious lips with a finger. “Mrs. Taylor, one you’ll never have to use your imagination for again.”
Nor will I.

A short fifteen minutes later, we’re steps away from the sunken tub in the non-cancelable penthouse suite the bitch put on my credit card, about to finish what we started in Cannes. And start so much more.

Zoey

T
he crazy events of today are a swirling blur. I still can’t believe I just married the man every woman on the planet wishes she could have. The man of my dreams. There’s happy. And there’s beyond happy. I’m in the latter category. The luckiest girl in the world.

My lips stay latched on Brandon’s as he carries me into the penthouse suite of The Four Seasons. Tightening my grip around his strong shoulders, I open my eyes a sliver to take in my surroundings. Wow! It’s like a palace in the sky. All sleek shiny marble, muted silks and velvets, and touches of gilt. With elegant furnishings that include a baby grand piano complete with a bucket of champagne and wraparound windows offering a spectacular panoramic view of sparkling LA.

He transports me down a long hallway until we reach a palatial bedroom. An enormous four-poster bed with a mile-high duvet and a mountain of fluffy pillows dominates the room. On the opposite wall, a built-in fireplace casts a warm glow from the fire inside. On the mantle and every surface, scented candles burn and mingle with the intoxicating scent of fresh flowers.

He sets me down on my feet by the bed and then captures my lips with another passionate kiss. I melt into him.

“I wanted to finish what we started in Cannes, but I can’t wait,” he breathes into my mouth. Planting his lush lips back on mine, he undoes the back zipper of my dress and then slides the spaghetti straps off my arms. Chaz’s creamy chiffon creation puddles at my feet, allowing me to step out of it. I’m left with just my ivory lace undergarments and my heels. Cupping my shoulders, Brandon stares at me reverently and then kisses me everywhere he can.

“Oh, Zoey, you’re so fucking beautiful and tonight you’re finally all mine. All I want to do is make endless love to you.”

“Oh, Brandon! The same! I’ve missed you so much.”

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you. Help me undress.”

On my next heated breath, I undo his bowtie and the buttons of his shirt while he unfastens his lucky cufflinks and puts them securely in a pocket of his tux pants. I smile at the memory of dressing him in his tux on the night of the Golden Globes and broaden the dreamy smile as I stand now before him and help him out of his formal wear. Feverishly, I unclasp his trousers and zip down his fly, freeing his enormous cock. In a few swift moves, he kicks off his shoes, steps out of the pants, and tosses his jacket to the floor. As he unhooks my bra and removes it, I soak in his beautiful body. He’s the epitome of manly perfection with his taut flesh, pronounced muscles, and defined contours. The glow of the fire and candlelight makes him even more sublime. Surreal. A sex god. My god. I run my fingers along his strong jawline just to make sure he’s real. He gropes my breasts in his soft hands and bends to kiss them. A low rumble sounds in his throat as my body responds with a rush of hot tingles. Reality sets in. There’s nothing that stands between the two of us except a veil of love.

“I can’t wait another minute, my beautiful wife.”

My breath hitches. He called me his wife. I have to get used to this new four-letter word.
Wife.
The word’s beauty resonates in my ears.

Lifting me back in his arms, he sets me down on the massive bed and then crawls onto it. His magnificent cock is erect and ready. His smoldering eyes stay riveted on me and then he bends over, his mouth blazing a trail of kisses from my quivering lips to my inner thighs. My sex is flooding like a river and need pours from my core like a waterfall. I moan from the exquisite pleasure he’s giving me.

“Zoey, listen to me,” he says, sliding off my lace thong and then my shoes.

My senses heightened, I’m all ears. All nerves. All desire.

“You’re completely mine now.”

I have to adjust to the fact that I’m no longer just Brandon Taylor’s assistant. I’m his wife. He’s my husband. My lover. My real life action hero. My prince. My life. The man who said he’d kill for me and he did. I’m overflowing with love for him. I need for him to possess every part of my body.

“Brandon, please make love to me.”

His mouth makes its way back up my legs. He nuzzles my inner thighs.

“I’m going to do a lot of things to you tonight.”

“Like what?” I breathe out, already so aroused.

“Things I need to do,” he whispers against my scorching flesh. “Things I think you want me to do.” He draws in a deep, lustful breath. “Zoey, I want you to submit to me. Let me love
all
of you the only way I can.”

My beating heart is about to ricochet out of my chest. I so want him to own me. Possess me. Take total control. Haven’t I always been his sub? At his command?

“Brandon, I’m your wife. Own me. Please own me.” My core’s on fire, every cell ignited. I’m begging as sinfully as I can.

His violet eyes are smoldering. “My beautiful wife, by the end of tonight, I will own every inch of you.” He clasps my hand and reverently kisses my amethyst ring. “You are my life. I want you to trust me. Can you do that?”

Speechless, I nod as he continues.

“I’m going to pleasure your body and not stop until I’ve memorized every crevice, every curve, and every sexy imperfection. You’re going to lose count of how many times I make you come.”

I hold my breath in anticipation. While one of his hands stays splayed on my inner thigh, the other slides over my slick mound. At the touch, I flinch. Using all his fingers, he kneads it, his thumb giving extra special attention to my humming clit. Moans that start off soft grow louder with each one that spills from my lips.

“Oh, baby, you’re so fucking wet for me.” His voice is deep and low and so sexy.

I whimper as he picks up his pace. The rotations come at me harder and faster. My clit ablaze, he’s taking me to the edge. I’m so ready to combust.

And then a new unexpected sensation assaults me. Still grazing my inner thigh, he plunges a long finger into my pussy. Shoving it in as far as it’ll go. He begins to pump it vigorously while his other hand indulges in my clitoral massage. His finger keeps hitting that mega-sensitive spot, bringing me closer and closer to the precipice. The building pressure inside me goes from intense to unbearable as my body prepares for the inevitable.

“I’m going to come!” I scream out.

“Not yet, baby. I’m going to fuck you into oblivion. The only thing you’ll remember is me coming inside you as I make you come over and over again.”

On the next beat of my heart, he spreads my legs farther apart and throws my feet over his shoulders, the weight and heat of his body lingering over me. He leans in and wedges his spectacular cock inside me with a helping hand. I let out a loud groan as his fullness fills me. It sails smoothly into my sea of wetness.