Unforgettable: Book Three (A Hollywood Love Story #3)(4)

“Open up!” bellows an unfamiliar voice. “His Royal Highness, Prince Brandon, requests an entrance.”

My heart pounds in anticipation. Oh my goodness! The Prince is here!

Katrina screams in a panic. “Zoella, get your fat ass to the front door. But don’t let The Prince in until I change into something appropriate. Stall him.” Frenzy-eyed, she turns to her mother. “Mommy, help me!”

Enid scowls at me. “Zoella, what the hell are you waiting for? Go! Chop chop!” A double clap of her bony hands accompanies her last words.

My heart racing, I dash to the front door and open it slowly. My heart practically beats out of my chest. Standing before me on a rolled out red carpet is his Royal Gorgeousness dressed in his royal finery. A magnificent tux that’s tailored to his inhumanly perfect body and complemented by his signature regal purple bowtie. On the street, an entourage of black limos is lined up behind his official car—a gleaming white Aston Martin convertible.

His violet eyes, two glistening jewels, meet mine. Neither of us can speak. Sparks fill my vision and my ears. I wonder if he can hear and see them too. That dazzling smile curls up the corners of his luscious lips, and he breaks the silence.

“Hi, do you live here?”

I clear my throat. Brain to voice, come in please. “I-I’m just a servant here. This house used to be my papa’s, but now it belongs to my stepmother and her daughter.”

He calls out to one of his entourage. “Niall, the shoe please.”

At his command, a tall wiry man delivers the shoe on a purple velvet cushion. I inwardly gasp. It’s the sparkling glass slipper I lost when I ran away from him at the palace.

“I am looking for the woman whose foot fits this shoe. If the shoe fits, something else will too. There’s only one woman in the entire kingdom made for me.”

Hot tingles all but consume me. Flushed, I glance down at my ratty sneaker-clad feet. To my astonishment, he tilts up my head by pressing his thumb under my chin. At his tender touch, I quiver with desire and lust.

His gaze holds me fierce. “Are you going to let me in?”

In my head, I spread my legs wide and offer him the entrance to my *. I so long to have his royal cock inside me and to have his body on mine.

Before I can get my mouth to move, Katrina’s sharp voice pierces my ears.

“Oh, Your Highness. I’m so glad you’re here. You’ve come to the right place,” she says breathily, joining us at the front door. She’s dolled up in a bright yellow sequined gown that could light up the sky and a pair of matching stilettos. With her platinum hair cascading over her shoulders, the tall willowy blonde looks stunning. Frumpy me pales in comparison and a cloud of despair sweeps over me. I don’t stand a chance with Prince Brandon.

She eyes the glass slipper. “Oh, Princey-Poo, did you bring that for me?”

“It belongs to the woman whose * fits my cock. I’m having every woman in Lalaland try it on. Whoever it fits will be my princess bride.”


Katrina’s feline green eyes light up. “What are we waiting for?” She shoots me a look that could kill. “Get lost, Zo-ey.”

“Zoey?” The Prince repeats.

Before he can say another word, I do as I’m told. With a heavy heart, I retreat to my quarters. Little Gucci follows me.

I slump down on my rickety bed and bury my face in my hands. In no time, my palms are soaked from a deluge of tears. My chest heaves and my sobs sound in my ears. Beautiful Prince Brandon—the love of my life—will never be mine.

Only the sound of Gucci barking madly brings me out of my misery. I part my hands and glance down. There he is before me with the other glass slipper dangling from his mouth. It’s one of his favorite toys. He drops it at my feet and then barks again at me. Woof! Woof! Woof! He’s trying to communicate with me.

“What is it, little boy?” I sniffle.

Wagging his fuzzy tail, he picks up the shoe again in his mouth and runs toward the door to my chamber. With his front paw, he scratches at the slab of wood. I get it. He wants me to open it and follow him.

As I turn the knob, I hear Katrina screech. “Zo-eeeeee! Get your ugly face down here immediately. I need you!”

I wonder what my evil stepsister wants as I wind down the stairs with Gucci trailing closely behind me.

“It’s about time you got here,” she snaps as I set foot in the living room.

“Push harder!” screams her mother, rolling her eyes.

“I can’t!” grunts Katrina.

I have to bite down on my bottom lip to contain my laughter. Katrina is trying to squeeze her size nine foot into my size six shoe. No matter how much she tries, she can’t. With each squeeze and grunt, she turns redder than the crimson sole of her Louboutin.

“Zoella, use your hands, for God’s sake, to stretch out the shoe,” she yells.

“Katrina, it’s not going to stretch. It’s made of glass.”

“Glass, my ass. Just do it!”

“Chop chop!” snaps a frustrated Enid.

Having no choice, I oblige. Taking the shoe into my hand, I tug at it. Of course, it doesn’t budge. I need a glassblower. Prince Brandon’s gaze stays on my hands—the same hands that once locked with his and circled his majestic shaft.

“Zoey, your hands are exquisite. Almost magical,” he says.