by Gabrielle G.
He laughs. Dex’s laugh is something precious you don’t hear every day. It’s as rare as hen’s teeth. Luke cheers with him, clearly happy to be off the hook. I sigh, making a mental note to search “how to be nice to someone you hate” on the Internet.
“In all seriousness,” Dex continues, “I can tell you he hasn’t acted in two years and what you find might not be a pretty picture of the Oscar Award-winning actor Ryan Marley. Last I heard, he was pussying around New York with his entourage, living the cliché of fame, drugs, and rock and roll. I know that scene isn’t the best for you, so I want you to be sure you know what you’re doing.”
I’m stronger than ever and haven’t touched drugs or alcohol in thirteen years. I’m not afraid for my sobriety. I do know though that my protective brother won’t let me go alone if he suspects anything, eternally afraid I’ll relapse.
“Then we can’t tell the groom. If he knows what I’m doing, he’ll lose his shit. So I’ll find Ryan, talk to him, and see what his answer is. Depending on the answer, we’ll talk to the very hormonal but happy couple. Deal?” I say.
They both nod.
“Now, Dex, let’s talk about your first tattoo!” Luke says jokingly.
Dex loathes tattoos. It’s a running joke in our group of friends. Luke tries to convince Dex every time he sees him, and Dex groans and tells him he doesn’t see the point of getting something permanent inked on his body. Luke explains the art until Dex snorts and generally leaves.
I leave them to their conversation and go to my office. I open my computer and search for Ryan’s name to see the latest news about him. A quick search gives me more information than I need.
He does spend most of his time in New York but has been spotted occasionally in Los Angeles, always with a barely-of-age model on his arm and never the same one. I cringe, thinking about the task at hand. I can’t really play on my looks—not that I was planning to. I’m over forty, curvy, and all natural. The girls he has been photographed with are skinny, without a single wrinkle on their faces, and their lips are as full of filler as their plastic surgeons’ piggy banks.
I’m racking my brain, trying to figure out how I’m going to approach him or talk to him, when I receive a text from my wonderful and totally insane sister-in-law-to-be.
Just heard on the radio Ryan is in town for a charity event. Same event Ian and I were invited to tomorrow night. Ian can’t go because he has to shoot some scene for the show. Would you come with me? I want to talk to Ry.
My brother plays a single dad in a drama series on TV. His character is a widower whose wife committed suicide. It’s undoubtedly why this charity asked him to attend their event, and I know Ian would be happy if I stepped in for him. I’ve done it for several other charities, especially ones helping women with addictions or cancer.
Nevertheless, Julie’s plan is insane. If Ian knows she’s going to meet the guy who wanted nothing more than to fuck her less than two years ago, breaking their friendship in the process, and that I was with her when it happened, I’m dead. He won’t kill her because he loves her and she’s carrying his child, but he’ll never forgive me.
What if I go with Dex or Luke and take care of it? I don’t want you to stress out and make my niece an anxiety ball.
This might be one of the worst things I have done since getting sober. I’m using my unborn niece, and the fear her mother has about anything happening to her, so that Julie will stay out of this stupid situation she wants to put us in… and I don’t even feel remorseful about it. What I don’t tell her is that Dex and Luke certainly won’t come and that I would prefer to meet the prick at a charity event where he won’t be able to snap at me too loudly, and where he shouldn’t be too drunk, rather than in a club surrounded by drugs and alcohol.
Ok. If you think so. I’ll send the invite to the coffee shop by courier in the next hour.
As I enter the beautiful King Edward Ballroom, the gold leaf ceilings and the crystal chandeliers astonish me. At least three hundred people fill the room, but I find Ryan right away, standing next to a tall window. Holding a flute of champagne in one hand, he guides one of his non-fat, no-sugar blonde models with the other. As much as I can’t stand him, I can’t deny that he oozes sex appeal.
Ryan has always been good-looking, and age has only solidified his sexiness. It’s too bad his personality doesn’t match his looks. He stands tall in his charcoal suit, cut perfectly to fall on his statuesque, well-built body. His dirty-blond hair is much shorter than it used to be, but I can still see the natural curl rebeling on his forehead. He looks like an angel with diabolical intentions.
I watch him until his lagoon-colored eyes find mine and narrow. He prowls in my direction, dragging his skinny blonde along.
“Porter,” he barks, stopping in front of me. “What are you doing here? I was told none of you were coming to the event.”
I laugh nervously. No wonder we haven’t seen him in a while—Ryan seems to be avoiding us.
“I… I…” As I stutter, someone stumbles into me, making me lunge directly into his champagne glass, which spills on my light grey cocktail dress.
Ryan lets go of his date and prevents my fall by catching my waist. A wave of chills spreads throughout my body, and I feel queasy. Oblivious to my response, Ryan steadies me and lets me go, quickly grabbing a new flute of champagne to replace the one that spilled on my dress.
His date giggles, clearly intoxicated. “I need to go powder my nose.” She kisses his cheek before leaving us.
“Charming,” I say once I regain my composure.
“What is?” he asks with disdain.
“Your cocainized date. Very charming.”
He shrugs as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. “What are you doing here?”
“As I started to say before you drenched me in champagne, I’m here to talk to you!”
He squints at me. “Nope, not interested.”
He walks away, but I follow him closely. “Come on, Ryan, Julie misses you and she wants you at the wedding.”
I have a hard time following his long strides with my shorter legs. He crosses the rooms and climbs the stairs two at a time, leading me to the balcony.
“Come on, at least let’s talk about it!” I say, frustrated by him ignoring me.
“No, not interested.”
Perched above the ballroom, we’re standing on a terrace with endless skylights. It would be romantic if I weren’t stuck with him.
“Look, what would it take for you to come? She’s highly hormonal right now, and she wants you there.”
He stops, turns around, and steps toward me, leaning his face close to mine. “The Ryan who cared is gone. Julie and Ryan don’t exist anymore and haven’t for a fucking long time now. I don’t want to hear about her. I don’t want to see her. I don’t want to be at their wedding, and I’m pretty sure your brother doesn’t want me there either. So let it be. Tell her it’s not happening and leave me alone.”
He’s so close, our lips are almost touching, and I haven’t felt this way since my last hit. I back away, scared by how I’m losing perception of reality while in his presence. I want to run, but I can’t. I have to beg him to listen to me.
I close my eyes. “Please, please hear me out.”
When I feel in control again, my eyelids flutter open and I get pulled in by the magnetism of his gaze. The corners of his mouth curl into a vicious smile.
“I like hearing you beg, Porter. I would prefer you do it on your knees though.”
As my brain is screaming its hate for the man in front of me, my core clenches at his words. I give him an offended look, hoping my eyes don’t mirror the desire I bear. “You really suck, you know that?”
“I don’t know if I suck, but I know you will soon, darling…” His witty mouth slaps me directly across my face.
I’m enraged and turned on at the same time. I want to hit him, but my panties are drenched at the thought of sucking his dick. “I can’t believe you became such an asshol
e!”
“Someone finally learned how to swear.” He laughs. “I didn’t turn into an asshole overnight. Took years of being let down by people I trusted and getting walked over by people I cared about to become the asshole I am today. I don’t care what you think, but I care to fuck you. That’s the only thing on the table right now if you want to discuss why you need me to show up at a certain wedding. The choice is yours. You can either let me fuck you or let down your future sister-in-law. Is your ego bigger than your loyalty, Porter? I’ll even be nice and give you until the end of the evening to decide. Tick-tock, darling, my dick is hungry.”
And as if we’d only shared civilities, Ryan strolls away, leaving me confused, angry, and panting for more.
To know when Never & Forever will come out, check my website, sign up for my newsletter, follow me on social media, or send me a homing pigeon.
www.authorgabrielleg.com
