Bryce (Members From Money Season 2, #147)

Chapter 1

The hill was scattered with wildflowers.

Daisies, daffodils, a sprinkle of dandelions and some sunflowers, their petals soaring upwards, erect and tall, above the rest.

Moonlight streamed through the leaves of the trees, dappling everything in sight.

The clean scent of the morning permeated the air all around and made one think of new beginnings.

New hopes and dreams.

Zahra laughed at the fanciful thoughts flickering inside her mind.

It was her favorite time of the day.

Just before the sun burst forth, scattering the shadows and beaming its brilliance on everything, she liked to take a walk, to breathe in the fresh air and to think and plan for her day.

The land was part and parcel of the inn and was an added appeal to the already delightful surroundings.

From here, she could look down on the entire town.

Not that there was much of it, Flower Hills was tiny, with a population a little over a thousand, if that much.

It always amazed her that she had ended up here and made the place her home.

She was originally from a big city and would never have dreamed she would make her home in a place like this.

But it had healed her.

It had given her a sense of peace and tranquility.

She had packed up her belongings, quit her job as an administrative assistant in a stressful corporate office.

Her mother had thought she was insane.

Her friends had told her that she would come running back.

But she was still here and this was her home.

She knew everyone in the village.

Knew their names and they knew hers.

She was invited over for tea.

The mail woman dropped off the mail and would sit down for some delicious piece of pie and a cup of coffee.

She was invited to weddings, would drop in for funerals.

Attended community meetings that contributed to the local fundraising - whether it was to renovate the library or buy gear for the volleyball team.

She also had someone sniffing around.

William Lane was a sweetheart, and she thought of him more of a brother than a potential lover.

She had told him that, but he would not give up.

She was flattered to have a man determined to be part of her life.

She had been involved in just two relationships and the first – well, she shied away from thinking about it.

Lifting her head, she took several deep breaths.

It was almost time for her to head on back.

It was almost the end of summer, and she had several guests getting ready to depart.

One was leaving this morning and had requested breakfast.

She had prepared the soda bread already, and planned the menu.

Sausages and scrambled eggs.

Perhaps some porridge as well.

She would start the pot of coffee as soon as she got back.

And a pot of tea as well.

They were supposed to be getting rain. Probably change the menu to something hot and spicy. A stew or vegetable soup.

Jessica would be arriving shortly to do the tables.

Taking another look around, she smiled.

It was easy to do so now.

In the past, she had been so miserable.

Just going from one day to the next and taking sleep aids to close her eyes. Now in the two years she had been living here, sleep came naturally to her.

The chaos that had been her life was in the rear-view mirror.

She was contented and happy.

The place suited her, and she wished she could tell Aunt Sybil how grateful she was for getting this chance.

Rubbing her hands over her arms, she turned to take the narrow path that led to the inn, a smile on her face.

*****

“Take a load off, why don’t you?”

Jessica clucked her tongue and bustled over to make sure she did by taking her arm and tugging her towards the cozy dining table and chair, tucked beneath the window overlooking the bed of flowers and herbs that Zahra had planted just a year ago.

“You have been running around since six without a break.”

The woman bustled off without waiting for a response, returning a few minutes later with a tray.

Scones and some of those delicious biscuits.”

“You spoil me.”

“Someone has to!”

She placed the tray in front of Zahra and folded her hands into the pockets of her soiled apron.

Picking up the cup, Zahra sent the woman a knowing look, a hint of smile, revealing double dimples.

“You heard the conversation.”

Jessica looked sheepish, broad face pinkening with embarrassment.

“I know how you get when she calls.”

Forcing herself to appear nonchalant, Zahra put the cup down and reached for a biscuit.

“It’s getting easier to talk to her.”

“She wants you to give up your dreams and go back so that she can suck the life out of you.”

Shaking her head, the woman squared her shoulders.

“Forgive me if I am overstepping.”

Zahra laughed ruefully.

“When did that ever stopped you?”

She asked fondly.

“Sit, Jess.

I was not the only one who was running around.”

“Let me get a cup.

I could really use some of that tea.”

She hurried and came back with a cup, pulling out a chair.

The lunch hour had come and gone, and the cozy yellow and cream-colored kitchen was spotless.

The scent of pine and lingering aroma of cinnamon made for a pleasant ambiance.

The guests, two couples, a novelist and an aging movie star were out for a stroll to take in the sights.

They would stop for lunch at one of the tiny restaurants, visit the museum and stay in town for the fair, leaving Zahra and Jessica free for the rest of the day.

Tomorrow was Saturday, the first one in September, and the couple and novelist would be leaving to go back home.

“Catherine has been relying on someone else for her entire life.”

She took a sip of tea to wet her suddenly parched throat.

Conversations with her mother always agitated her and that had never changed, despite the fact that she was a grown-ass thirty-two-year-old woman and had moved several hundred miles away.

It was still the same argument.

Zahra had deserted her.

And after she had stayed when that no-good man had left them after ruining their lives with his drinking.

On top of that, he had died of a heart attack while having sex in some sleazy motel with a girl who was barely legal.

The shame of that was always with her.

Her career was ruined, and her only child did not care.

Notwithstanding the fact that Zahra had suffered significantly from a very traumatic upbringing.

“She’s not planning on visiting, is she?”

“Mother would not be caught dead in a small town.

Thank God!”

She said with a heartfelt sigh.

“She was trying to guilt you in going back.”

“Which will never happen.”

Turning her head, she gazed out at the sunlight shimmering on the flowers she had planted with her own hands.

Flower Hills had healed her, somewhat.

The tiny town had done what years of therapy had failed to do.

The place had brought her peace and tranquility.

The nightmares had stopped coming so frequently.

She had spent almost her entire life trying to compete for her dad’s attention, desperate to get him to love her.

She remembered a handsome and charming man who was like a shadow.

He would come home drunk and loud, bellowing for his ‘two girls’ and there would be a fight between him and her mother.

Chaos had reined in her house and left her shattered, longing for some sort of peace.

Even when he had died, that peace she sought was not forthcoming.

Not even when she moved out after college.

The inheritance from her aunt had come at a time when she was wondering what the hell she was going to do with the rest of her life.

Now she had found her purpose.

Drawing on that, she pushed away the sadness and smiled.

“I am fine.

Now I have to go upstairs and see to straightening up the place.

We’re expecting some more people tomorrow.

Thanks, Jess.”

“Anytime.”

*****

Bryce stirred slowly and opened his eyes, each movement careful and precise.

His head was pounding, and his mouth was chalk dry.

Raising his head an inch at a time, he peered around the still darkened room, a frown touching his brow.

This certainly was not his bedroom at the loft.

There were no heavy burgundy drapes at his windows - in fact, there were no drapes at all.

Turning his head to the left, he stared at the naked woman curled up into a fetal ball, red hair spilling over the pillows.

He was in some woman’s apartment? House? Christ!

Even thinking was giving him a bloody headache.

Memories came flooding back and made his headache even more.

He was sure that someone or something was driving spikes into his brain.

It was his co-star and after wrapping the latest scene, she had suggested they come back to her place for a celebratory drink.

Which had apparently turned into a drinking binge and meaningless sex.

Christ! Sitting up against the padded headboard, he assessed his situation.

This was getting to him.

Bryce shook his head slightly, trying to clear the fog.

He had to get out of here.

Slowly, he climbed out of bed, careful not to disturb the sleeping woman beside him.

As he searched for his clothes, fragments of last night's events started to piece together.

He recalled the laughter, the clinking of glasses, the sense of escapism that had led him to this disorienting morning.

Finding his jeans draped over a chair, he slipped them on and continued his search for his shirt and shoes.

His thoughts were a muddled mess of regret and resignation.

This wasn’t the first time he had found himself in such a situation, and he feared it wouldn’t be the last.

Once dressed, Bryce paused for a moment, glancing at the red-haired woman one last time.

She seemed familiar yet distant, a reflection of his own fragmented life.

With a sigh, he quietly exited the room, the door clicking softly behind him.

As he stepped into the hallway, he vowed to himself that he would find a way to break this cycle of reckless behavior and find a semblance of stability.

As he descended the stairs, Bryce's mind was a whirlpool of jumbled thoughts.

The echoes of last night’s indiscretions reverberated through his consciousness, causing his headache to intensify with every step.

The stark contrast between the life he portrayed on screen and the reality he lived struck him hard - one was a gilded cage of glamour, while the other was a chasm of uncertainty.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Bryce slipped out of the building cautiously, hoping to avoid any chance encounters.

The cold morning air hit his face, bringing a mild sense of relief.

He took a deep breath, the chill cutting through the remnants of alcohol in his veins.

The city, barely awake, seemed indifferent to his inner turmoil.

In the car, Bryce leaned back against the seat, closing his eyes for a brief moment.

The silence was both oppressive and calming, a strange respite from the chaos of his thoughts.

He began to drive, navigating the empty streets with a mechanical precision that belied his sluggish mind.

The familiar route to his loft felt surreal, as if he were watching someone else’s life unfold before him.

Upon arrival, Bryce staggered into his apartment, the door creaking with familiarity.

The loft, usually a sanctuary, now felt like a hollow shell.

He poured himself a glass of water and downed a couple of painkillers, hoping to dull the sharp edge of his hangover.

The reflection staring back at him from the mirror was one of dishevelment and disarray - a stark reminder of the cost of his reckless escapade.

Bryce sank into the couch, the leather cool against his skin.

He knew he had to make a change, but the path to redemption seemed elusive.

The morning light filtered through the windows, casting a soft glow over the room.

As the day began to break, he resolved to confront his demons and seek a way to reclaim his life from the throes of despair.

*****

She loved this time of day.

When the place was empty, and the guests were off for the day.

She was upstairs checking the rooms, making sure that Arlene had tidied up and emptied the trash.

The woman was a part-time employee, only brought in when she and Jessica had their hands full.

Walking from one suite to the next, Zahra lingered, taking in the apple green wallpapers that she had put up herself and the sturdy furnishings she had bought at several antique stores from neighboring towns.

There were five suites in total and two bedrooms with a shared bathroom.

At one point the place had been so booked that she had given up her own suite to accommodate a couple who were on their honeymoon.

That had been a one-off deal and something she had vowed never to do again.

She owned the inn.

Trailing a hand over the sturdy doorframes, she stood there for a minute and let it sink in.

It was hers.

This delightfully quaint and sturdy structure with its pretty white walls and creaky stairs belonged to her.

She had never owned anything in her life, and it gave her such a thrill, that sometimes she would wake up in the middle of the night and wondered if she was dreaming.

As Zahra moved to the last room on the floor, she paused before entering.

This was her favorite suite, with its large bay windows that offered a view of the sprawling gardens below.

The morning sun streamed in, illuminating the room in a golden hue.

She stepped inside, feeling the warmth envelop her.

The suite was decorated in soft pastels, with delicate lace curtains framing the windows and a plush armchair sitting invitingly in the corner.

Zahra had spent countless hours perfecting every detail, ensuring that each guest would feel at home.

She admired the intricate patterns on the quilted bedspread, a piece she had found during one of her trips to an antique market.

As she walked around the room, Zahra’s mind wandered to the inn’s future.

She envisioned bustling weekends filled with laughter and the scent of fresh pastries wafting from the kitchen.

She dreamed of expanding the garden, adding a little gazebo where guests could enjoy their tea.

The possibilities seemed endless, and for the first time in a long while, Zahra felt a sense of contentment.

She exited the suite, closing the door gently behind her, and went downstairs to prepare for the day.

The inn was quiet now, but soon it would come alive with the guests' arrival.

Zahra cherished these moments of solitude, knowing that they were fleeting yet precious.

She took a deep breath, embracing the tranquility before the storm of activity began.

In the kitchen, Zahra set about baking fresh scones and brewing coffee.

The aroma filled the air, a comforting reminder of the simple joys that life offered.

As she worked, she reflected on the journey that had brought her here, to this place of peace and fulfillment.

It had not been easy, but it had been worth every struggle.

The day was just beginning, and Zahra felt ready to face whatever it might bring.

She was home, and that was all she needed.

*****

“For how long?”

Bryce turned away from his contemplation of the high-rise buildings in his line of vision to look at the tidy and compact woman seated at her large desk.

As his agent, Cynthia had his best interests at heart.

His instincts told him that, but he was also aware that he was a meal ticket as well.

Whenever he made money, she profited.

He could not complain of her treatment of him, and never wondered – well, perhaps he had wondered, if it was because of his name.

His daddy was Blaine Whitlock, director extraordinaire and a force in the entertainment industry.

Bryce had worked desperately to get out from under his father’s shadow and would like to think that he had succeeded.

He certainly hoped so.

He shrugged broad shoulders.

“Three weeks, maybe four.”

Her jaded blue eyes widened as she looked at him.

“Are you out of your mind? You just wrapped up a block-buster movie, one that has critics and fans salivating.

People, the press, I have Oprah calling to find out when she can book you for an interview.

NBC, CBS and several major networks want to have a sit down with you and not to mention the many press parties…“

“Cancel all of them!”

His eyes hardened as she opened her mouth to go on.

“I mean it.

Tell them whatever the hell you want, but I am leaving in two days for unknown parts.

I have done you the courtesy of telling you because you have been there for me, but my mind is made up.

I am tired and need a bloody break, and I am taking it.”

Cynthia took a deep careful breath to rein in her own temper.

She was accustomed to dealing with celebrities with their unreasonable demands and impossible expectations, but to her surprise, Bryce Whitlock was not like that.

He was thoughtful and mindful of stepping on anyone’s toes.

He was conscientious about his work and made little to no demands.

He certainly had not inherited those admirable attributes from his dear dad.

Blaine Whitlock was ruthless and frightening.

People feared him and went of their way to avoid getting on his bad side.

“Bryce, this is not a good time.”

Her expression turned pleading.

She felt the familiar tug of lust and embraced it.

If one did not feel anything when in the presence of a man like Bryce, one would have to be blind or dead, or both.

He had bulked up for the lead he played in his latest action flick, ‘Crossfire’.

His shoulders had always been broad and his physique, a well-toned six-foot one; had that hungry lean look that reminded one of a wolf on the prowl.

But with the added muscles, the bunching of them and with his hair – wild and dark like silk raining around his face in a sexy dishevelment, it put the blood to stirring and she might be old enough to be his mother, but she was human and a woman.

Not that he would look twice at her that way, she thought with regret.

She wasn’t his type.

And as much as she could feel the saliva pooling inside her mouth, she was a professional and aside from the awareness as a woman, she felt the maternal as well.

Not that he would appreciate the thought of it.

Bryce’s own mother, a cold woman at that had never encouraged any sort of maternal feelings.

That much she knew.

And his father… Well, that man was as cold as ice.

“if you could wait a few weeks - perhaps until the end of September, sometime in October, I will personally see to it that you disappear without a trace.”

She warmed up to the idea.

“There’s a little village in Italy…”

“No!”

He dragged restless fingers through his tangle of hair.

Ever since the drunken night he had found himself in the bed of the actress, he had been doing some thinking.

He had a meeting with his old man later today and the thought of it was making his insides curdle with distaste.

He knew what the meeting would be about.

He was a bloody success in his field, but it still wasn’t enough for his parents.

His mother viewed his career as a frivolous way to make a living and his dad thought he could do better.

“Your acting skills are adequate at best, but you lack the killer instinct to make a lifelong commitment of it.”

Bryce had not bothered to remind the man that his acting skills were so damned good, he was now a billionaire in his own rights and had no need for anything they had to offer.

Not that they had or would offer anything.

His parents believed in their only child working and making his own path.

He was sick of the lack of love and appreciation.

Sick of his life.

Everything felt empty and inconsequential.

He wanted more.

He was tired of the meaningless affairs that lasted until the orgasms were over. He wanted someone he could sit and talk to, someone who was not dazzled by his fame and fortune.

If Hollywood had taught him one thing, it was that there wasn’t a real body to relate to.

He hated the sham and the pretenses.

No one spoke what was on their minds and the bed hopping was becoming very distasteful to him.

If he didn’t leave now, he was going to be go crazy.

“Make the arrangements.”

He ended abruptly as he strode from the room.