Healing hollywood hearts, p.1
Healing Hollywood Hearts, page 1
Healing Hollywood Hearts
Deborah Holness
Copyright © 2023 Deborah Holness
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
This Book is dedicated to:
YOU!
Thank you for taking the chance on an unknown. I hope my words raise a smile or two as was their intention. If you enjoy Jaime’s journey, please recommend Healing Hollywood Hearts to likeminded souls.
When you finish, if you find this book wasn’t your cup of tea, that’s OK. Thank you for giving it a go, there are plenty of other fabulous authors out there for you to try. I hope you find what you are searching for.
Content Advisory: This book is intended for mature audiences and contains graphic language as well as scenes of a sexual nature.
There is a scene which involves a serious road traffic accident and the subsequent the death of a child. Readers who may be sensitive to this, please take note.
The vocabulary, grammar and spelling of Healing Hollywood Hearts is written in British English.
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Thirty-Four
Thirty-Five
Thirty-Six
Thirty-Seven
Thirty-Eight
Epilogue
About The Author
Prologue
Tyler was early!
Tyler was NEVER early!
Tyler was always late, always slipping into work, skirting round his boss, trying to make out he had been there ages, when in reality he would still be catching his breath from barrelling down the street trying not to crash into the commuters and tourists that made it their mission to step out in front of him.
Today was different, VERY different, his grey uniform was pressed, his shoes freshly polished, he had even gelled his hair despite the fact that his uniform came with a peaked cap, once that was on his head and not tucked under his arm as it was now, no-one would be any the wiser.
The Phoenix hotel stood, a commanding presence in central London, open for just one month it had been aptly named, an abandoned building, prime real estate on the bank of the Thames, run down and almost nothing more than a pile of bricks, it had been snapped up by an overseas investor before being transformed into one of the newest and most luxurious hotels in the city. It had risen from its ashes loud and proud, it may not have yet had the time to earn the history of the older more established hotels, but it had already won the reputation of being able to turn dreams into reality. Discretion was assured, no request was too outlandish, every seemingly impossible challenge thrown at it by its guests accepted and met with gusto.
With the perks came the price tag, the Phoenix attracted high end clientele and had quickly become the hotel of choice for the rich and famous. Its newness, opulence and the president it had set for being able to deliver the extreme, gave bragging rights to those who were both fortunate enough to secure a room as well as being able to afford the hefty invoice that came when they checked out. A stellar advertising campaign ensured the hotel had been fully booked two years in advance of its doors even opening for the first time and it had a waiting list of patrons eager to swoop in and secure any cancellation should it appear.
Tyler arrived at the rear of the hotel approximately thirty-five minutes earlier than necessary. He punched a number into a key pad and his retina was scanned. This allowed him to open a door, which led into the far side of a large and busy kitchen that was a hive of activity, even though it was close to midnight.
He walked straight, through the kitchen and out of the double doors opposite him, he was in the inner sanctum of the hotel, the area the guests never frequented. Turning left, a few paces down and to his right was a door. He stopped and was about to knock when the door opened and he was met by a portly security guard in his late fifties.
‘’Jeez Bill, it freaks me out when you do that!’’
‘’Son, I knew you were here before you did!’’ Bill laughed. A deep infectious chuckle that made Tyler smile.
Bill handed Tyler a Walkie Talkie, got him to sign a receipt attached to a clipboard, then watched as Tyler turned and started to negotiate the rabbit warren of corridors that lead him into the depths of the building and an opulent foyer containing an elevator few knew existed.
Tyler turned to channel twenty-two on his Walkie, it crackled slightly as he spoke, ‘‘Lou I’m here.’’
Within a couple of minutes, a light above the elevator blinked green and it whirred into action as it started to descend towards him.
How had he got this gig? He had been employed since the hotel opened, which wasn’t long, he was sure the manager hated him, he was never on time and up until yesterday only been deemed worthy enough of lugging suitcases up to guests’ rooms. Then out of the blue he had experienced some kind of miracle. He was called into his supervisor’s office; certain he was going to be fired. He’d been half expecting it as there had been an incident involving one of the hotels most high-profile guests. Instead, he had been offered the job most of the staff would have given their right arm for. He’d been given a pay rise but not before a legal document had been thrust under his nose demanding his signature, an NDA. They wanted him to sign a non-disclosure agreement to operate a lift! He had sniggered at the absurdity of it but had soon regretted it as four pairs of watchful eyes had bored into him, probably willing him to turn to stone so their owners could smash him to smithereens and steal the coveted position for themselves. Needless to say, he had signed the contract which basically stated that what happened in the hotel stayed in the hotel and if he blabbed, his life as he knew it would be over. He had picked up his new uniform that afternoon, had it altered by one of the hotel’s seamstresses and started that evening. He had been assigned the night shift but he was only twenty, more suited to being a night owl than an early riser. He didn’t know why he had been chosen; he didn’t care. Every hour since that meeting, he had stared up in the air and said a silent prayer of thanks to whoever or whatever had been the source of his good fortune.
The Elevator pinged and the doors slid open. An older, wiser, more experienced man got out dressed in the same uniform as Tyler. He had a large pot belly and an even larger disapproving look as he eyed Tyler up and down.
‘‘Evening Ty, You’re early.’’
Tyler shrugged, ‘‘It’s fine, anything I should know?’’
Lou shook his head. ‘‘All quiet, been out for most of the day, not back yet so keep on your toes.’’
Tyler nodded and accepted a small key offered to him. He got into the elevator, there were no buttons to press only a small panel with a key hole. Tyler took the key Lou had given him and inserted it, turning it a quarter turn to the right. The doors closed and then with another quarter turn of the key the lift started to ascend. It made no stops until it reached its final destination, the top floor. As it arrived the doors pinged open and Tyler turned his key a half turn to the left so they would stay that way until he gave them permission to close again. He stepped out into a narrow hall. Directly ahead of him was the fire escape. For security it could only be opened from one side, Tyler walked down and checked it was secure, he didn’t open it, he knew it was wired to a silent alarm and the last thing he wanted was the security team rushing him and wrestling him to the ground. Those guys were big, burly and slightly terrifying, nothing like Bill who was strictly eyes and admin until retirement.
Walking back down the corridor he passed two doors, one on his right, one to his left, they were directly opposite each other and behind them, the two large penthouse suites. Tyler hadn’t seen them but he was hopeful one day he would get to peek inside.
He clipped his walkie to his belt and smoothed his jacket down, he turned standing sentry in front of the open elevator doors. There was nothing left for him to do but wait.
One
It had been a week since a migraine had forced me to cut short an evening out with the girls. Arriving home unexpectedly I had caught my partner of seven years in our bed with one of our neighbours. I’d heard the moaning as soon as I stepped through the front door, for a split second, I had thought it was the TV, after all he had never been able to make me cry out in pleasure like that in all the years we had been together. When the reality hit, World War t
hree erupted under the roof of a two-bedroom semi in Kent. The police were called, I was arrested after a much beloved games console hurled at its owner’s head missed its intended target and sailed into the shoulder of one of the policemen trying desperately to diffuse the situation. In my twenty-nine years on this earth, it was the first time I had been in trouble with the law and hopefully it would be my last. I was mortified as I got taken to the station where they took my details and held me overnight. After a strict lecture on the virtues of calm negotiation, I was released without charge the following morning. When I got home all traces of the cheats existence had been removed. The only thing left to do was destroy the bed that angered me every time I looked at it so, with the aid of a hammer and a bottle of wine I set to work. I managed to haul it downstairs piece by piece and out onto the driveway, where it sat until the Council were able to collect it for disposal. I saw the curtains twitch two doors down as I stood outside exhausted. I gave a little bow before flipping off the jezebel I had found wrapped around my boyfriend and storming back inside.
Not my finest hour.
Now, after a traumatic journey into the office, I sat at my desk sipping my morning coffee pretending to be busy whilst secretly wondering what hell was about to be unleased upon me next. I opened up the Internet on my Laptop and a familiar face filled the screen. Mitchel James Dalton, the Hollywood actor was in London for the premiere of his new movie. He was thirty-two years of age, single and devilishly handsome. 6ft 2 inches, 222lbs of pure sexiness. With his smouldering good looks, mild mannered demeanour and rapidly increasing bank balance, it had often been said by reporters that every hot bloodied woman either wanted to wed him or bed him and almost every male on the planet wanted to be him. What I wouldn’t do to be whisked off somewhere exotic by him right now! If the rumours were to be believed he never had any issues in making a woman moan, probably due to the amount of practice he dedicated himself to throughout his life. He would always be photographed with a new conquest clinging to his arm. I was just contemplating where we would marry and the most idyllic location for our honeymoon, when a pop up filled the screen and before I knew what I was doing I had absentmindedly clicked on a link to win tickets to the recording of a brand-new chat show in London.
I never thought I’d win, but the Tuesday afternoon of the following week, I got the call. It took the woman on the other end of the line nearly twenty minutes of interrogation before she was able to persuade me that I wasn’t being scammed but that I had actually won. I was the lucky recipient of a three-night stay at the prestigious Phoenix hotel in London, tickets to the recording of a new chat show which boasted high octane celebrity guests and one thousand pounds spending money. The best part, I could bring up to three friends with me. It was like all my Christmases had come at once.
That night I think I was still in shock when I called my three closest friends to give them the news. There was a tight time frame to get organised, we were booked at the hotel the Friday coming for three nights which meant time off work had to be booked, outfits had to be carefully selected and in Rebecca’s case, husbands needed to be carefully prepped so they didn’t let a four-year-old vigilante stage a coup in her absence.
For the next 48 hours we weren’t off the phone from each other, it was both exhilarating and exhausting, I received an e-mail letting me know a car had been arranged to pick us up at two in the afternoon to take us into London, it would drop us at the hotel, give us enough time to check in and freshen up before returning at six to ferry us to the television studio on the South bank. Sophia was so excited she sent a text wanting us to all meet at mine for eight in the morning, I could almost sense the others rolling their eyes as the text came through. Jen, easily the most laid back of the group and not an early riser, countered with one pm. Bec came back with high noon, explaining she needed enough time to get her hyperactive toddler out of bed, dressed and wrestle him into his pushchair so she could send him off to the park with his dad before being able to focus on transforming herself back into a regular human again. Sitting on the fence so rigidly my butt hurt, I text noon it is then, before not looking at my mobile for the rest of the night.
Friday eventually arrived and just before midday, Jen arrived looking immaculate in an elegant white shift dress which made the most of her tall, shapely figure. A navy jacket hung over her shoulders; her long blond hair was piled on the top of her head in a messy bun. She held her overnight bag in one hand, a bottle of champagne in the other.
I’d got up late, cooked myself a full English breakfast and showered but I was still in my dressing gown.
‘I think I might be a tad overdressed!’ Jen laughed as she waved the bottle of champagne at me. ‘‘Let’s get this party started shall we?’’
She had barely made it over the threshold when a black SUV pulled up. I watched as Bec jumped out from the front passenger seat in her old sweatpants and a white t-shirt. I waved to her husband Max who was driving, then watched bemused as Bec pulled a suitcase the size of a small country out from the back seat whilst simultaneously blowing kisses to her son. Harry ignored her as he was in the midst of an epic temper tantrum whilst trying unsuccessfully to wriggle free from his car seat.
Bec blew her son and husband one final kiss before closing the car door, slapping the roof of the vehicle twice then standing back to watch as it disappeared down the road.
‘‘There’s going to be carnage,’’ Bec dragged her huge suitcase up the steps to my front door. ‘‘Where’s the alcohol?’’
Right on cue Jen arrived with two glasses of champagne.
‘‘Holy shit, what happened to you?’’ Jen handed Bec a glass and watched as she chugged it back before leaning forward to scrutinise a small chunk of hair that was matted. ‘‘And WHAT is THAT in your hair?’’
‘‘What colour is it?’’ Bec handed the empty glass to Jen who was looking at her as if she were diseased.
‘‘Ummm… sort of white?’’
‘‘That would be porridge!’’
‘‘I’m relieved, I thought you had been having fun time with Max.’’ Jen smirked and raised her eyebrows.
We all started giggling.
‘‘Mind if I jump in the shower? Satan wouldn’t go to the park this morning and now I’m all behind!’’ This was said lovingly, Bec adored her son but he was a handful.
‘‘Be my guest.’’ I laughed.
Jen refilled her glass before Bec disappeared upstairs. When she was out of ear shot Jen pointed at her suitcase, ‘‘I think she may be running away from home.’’
I sat with Jen giggling and sipping champagne until Bec reappeared wrapped in a towel, ‘‘I’m going upstairs to get dressed, let Soph in when she turns up.’’
Jen raised her glass as confirmation, her eyes transfixed as Bec opened her gigantic suitcase.
I had left the dress I was going to wear hanging on the back of the bedroom door so it didn’t get creased, it was new, I’d popped into my favourite discount fashion retailer on my way home from work Thursday evening and spied a flash of crimson silk peeping out from a rack jammed packed full of jumpers. Intrigued I’d gone to investigate and pulled the little dress from its hiding place. My size, it was meant to be! When I had tried it on, it had fitted perfectly. The designer label meant it had a price tag equal to more than I would usually dare to spend on one item of clothing even with its fifty percent price reduction. As I remembered the thousand pounds spending money that was winging its way into my account from winning the competition, I took not only the dress into custody but its matching chiffon jacket, new underwear, shoes and even a crimson lip gloss that matched the shade of the dress. Now as I slipped the dress over my head and surveyed myself in the full-length mirror on the bedroom wall, I realised what an excellent decision that had been. The dress had tiny shoe string straps, when it was zipped up at the side the silky material slid around my new strapless bra giving me the perfect silhouette. From the pinched in waist the skirt hung in soft folds a couple of inches above the knee. If I twirled round the skirt lifted and spun with me. I’d bought two different styles of briefs to match the bra, I put on a thong that I had thought would make me feel sexy, but instead the fluidity and length of the skirt made me feel vulnerable so I reconsidered and opted for the second more substantial pair. New strappy sandals with a three-inch stiletto gave my ankles definition and made the legs I had expertly tanned that morning look sleek and long adding to my 5ft 5 height. I swept my mid length, light brown hair back and fashioned it in a sophisticated chignon, teasing out some soft tendrils to frame my face and neck. Finally, I applied minimal make up, soft brown eyeshadow and eyeliner which accentuated my dark brown eyes, a sweep of mascara and a thin layer of lip gloss completed the look.
