Unforgettable: Book Three (A Hollywood Love Story #3)(42)

“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 f*cking 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


The 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.