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  Already Famous

  Famous Series Book 4

  By Heather Leigh

  Copyright © 2014 Shelbyville for Heather Leigh

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-10: 1502555496

  ISBN-13: 978-1502555496

  First Edition, License Notes

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover art by Deborah at Tugboat Design.

  www.tugboatdesign.net

  No one will hit you harder than life itself. It doesn’t matter how you hit back. It’s about how much you can take, and keep fighting, how much you can suffer and keep moving forward. That’s how you win.

  -Anderson Silva

  When life knocks you down, calmly get back up, smile, and say, “You hit like a bitch”.

  -Miguel Torres

  In the course of battle you could find a hundred different reasons to give up, but you got to find that one reason to stay in there, to stay in the fire.

  -Chael Sonnen

  Sometimes you need to be alone, in order to find out who you really are and what you really want out of life.

  -Unknown

  CHAPTER 1

  The fist comes at my head so fast, I barely have time to lean back and dodge it. The wind that brushes by registers for a split second, and then I move in with a hook that catches my opponent’s chin and his head snaps back violently.

  Shit. He looks pissed.

  He lands a lightening quick roundhouse kick to my ribs. It fucking hurts like hell, but I’m able to grab his foot and shove, knocking him off balance, sending him crashing to the ground.

  My adversary pops back up off of the mat before I can get on top of him and lock him down.

  I throw an uppercut, catching him again on the chin. He shakes his head and glares at me, a twisted smile on his face. I’m about to kick in his smug expression when I hear someone call out his name.

  “Damien!”

  We both stop fighting and turn to look across the rundown gym. Bruce, my driver, is near the entrance with a woman. No, not just a woman. That would mean she’s average, one of thousands just like her. She’s not. She might possibly be the most attractive woman I’ve ever seen and I’ve seen a lot.

  Damien, my sparring partner and trainer, doesn’t hesitate. He throws off his pads and gloves, exits the cage and crosses the room. I follow after him, not sure what I’m thinking as I head over to where Bruce is standing. Maybe I’m not thinking, because being recognized in my gym would suck. Groupies and fans don’t know that I train here and I like it that way. For all I know this girl will Tweet my location the second she leaves. That’s one of the definite downsides of being a very recognizable actor.

  Even though I know I should keep my distance, I find myself putting one bare foot in front of the other, getting closer to the stunning red-head with each step.

  “Can you grab the first aid kit? She fell on some ice,” Bruce says to Damien.

  My gaze, which had been fixed on her perfect face and brilliant blue eyes, flicks down to see her cradling her arm. Her sleeve is ripped up and blood is steadily dripping onto the floor.

  Shit, she’s really hurt. How did I not notice that?

  I’m shocked at how upset I get when I see the angry gash on her pale skin. She looks so fragile, breakable, like she might crumple to the ground from the slightest injury. I look back up at her face and see that she’s flushed a deep red.

  “Sorry to interrupt your workout,” the gorgeous girl stammers.

  Great, she knows me. The nervousness in her voice is as obvious as if she were carrying an Andrew Forrester fan club sign. Beautiful or not, I don’t want to lose my sanctuary here. I need this place to let out my frustrations, the ones that come when I feel out of control. This is the only place I can go that no one has managed to find out about. The other guys that train here are all up and coming UFC fighters. They have no interest in treating me differently or discussing my presence here.

  I stand in front of her with my guard up, just waiting for her to start freaking out when she recognizes me. Then, something odd happens. Instead of gushing all over me like I expect her to, the girl deliberately avoids eye contact with me and stares down at a random spot on the ground. She keeps shifting uncomfortably, allowing another huge drop of blood to fall from her arm.

  What a douche I am, letting her bleed everywhere while I worry about my ego and my petty selfishness. I know I can be a cold bastard most of the time, but I can’t let an injured woman stand there helplessly.

  “Here.” I hand her my towel. “So you won’t drip everywhere.”

  Wow Forrester, real smooth.

  Her small hand brushes against mine as she takes the towel. Holy shit! It’s as if a spark of electricity passes between us, jolting me right in the dick.

  Nice asshole, I scold myself. She’s injured and I’m thinking about sex.

  “Thanks,” she says as she wraps the towel around her arm. “I’m Sydney.”

  She shifts awkwardly again, as if she wants nothing more than to run out of here and never look back. Now she’s clearly waiting for me to introduce myself. Does she really not know me? Since she’s looking at me expectantly, waiting for me to tell her my name, I’m thinking she might not. That’s not possible, is it?

  “I’m Drew,” I say hesitantly. “So, you fell?”

  I want to punch myself right in the head for stating the obvious. This girl has me confused. I’m not used to having normal conversations with a female. Usually, there’s just a lot of screaming, flattery, or attempts to get in my pants. Not Sydney, she doesn’t act like she wants to fuck me, she acts like she wants to get the fuck away from me.

  Interesting.

  “Uhhh, yeah. It’s no big deal, really. Nice to meet you, Drew.”

  Nice to meet me? I shoot a puzzled look at Bruce and he gives me a baffled one in return. I’ve been in two of the three highest grossing movies of the last four years. She has to know who I am. I decide to push the issue, testing to see if she’s just pretending to not recognize me.

  “Have we met before?” I ask.

  Now Sydney is the one who looks bewildered. I can tell that she’s racking her brain to see if she knows me from somewhere. Then, instead of a look of recognition or admiration crossing that stunning face, a look of horror appears.

  “No, I don’t think so,” she says quickly.

  I am so freaking confused right now. This girl not only doesn’t know me, but she’s so ill at ease in my presence that she wants to get as far away from me as she can. All I can do to make her feel more comfortable is stand there like an idiot with my mouth gaping open.

  Damien brings the first aid kit over. “Got it.”

  He moves to open it and I snatch it from him. If anyone’s going to spend more time with the stunning girl who has never heard of Andrew Forrester, it’s going to be me.

  “I’ll do it,” I snap, watching Sydney’s eyes widen in surprise. “Bruce, thanks for bringing her in, I’ll be out in a few minutes.” I don’t need Bruce hovering over me as I take care of Sydney. He nods and leaves the gym.

  “You sure?” Damien asks, trying to give me a ‘what the fuck is up with you?’ look without Sydney noticing. Pissed that he won’t just leave, I stare back. I’ll be damned if he’s going to touch her instead of me. “Okay man, I’ll see you later?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be here,” I say distractedly. My gaze is already back on Sydney’s deep blue eyes.

  Damien takes off and I’m finally alone with her.

  “Here, sit down,” I point to
a bench and she sits immediately.

  Hmmm, compliant. Very sexy.

  I have to force myself to focus, she’s in pain and I’m starting to get a fucking hard on like a horny thirteen year-old kid. I kneel down next to her and open up the first aid kit.

  “Let’s see what you did.” I look to her for permission to touch her arm. She says nothing, so I take her delicate wrist and wrap my hand around it.

  I inhale sharply at the contact with her skin as I feel the same pulse of energy flow between us. Twice that’s happened now. I suddenly loathe the sports wrap that’s wound around my hands, acting as a barrier from keeping more of our skin from touching. Slowly, I remove the towel and tear my eyes from hers to look down at her arm.

  Thank god. I feel a rush of relief when I see that it’s not as bad as I thought it would be with all that blood. What the hell is my problem? Why do I give two shits about her arm?

  “It isn’t that bad. It’s big, but not deep, so it shouldn’t leave a scar or anything.” I look back up at Sydney and smile, “Wouldn’t want to ruin that perfect skin.”

  What the fuck is wrong with me? Jesus, she’s going to think I’m a fucking lunatic.

  Or maybe not. Sydney is staring back at me, her gaze flicking back and forth between my mouth and my eyes. Her pupils dilate slightly when our eyes meet. Is it possible that she felt the same thing I did when we touched? The magnetic pull, the undeniable chemistry that exists?

  Okay, totally not helping with the hard on.

  “Take off that jacket while I get what I need,” I bark at her.

  Too late, I realize my tone is abrupt because I’m all worked up and frustrated and I don’t want her to notice. She removes her jacket quickly, without hesitation.

  Controlling my desire to throw her down and fuck her right here takes every bit of restraint that I can summon. Gorgeous, compliant, and doesn’t recognize me? Not a common combination. I shove back the sexual thoughts that Sydney arouses in me and focus on finding what I need in the kit, roughly shoving shit out of the way until I see what I want.

  “Here, this may sting, I’m sorry Sydney.” I hate that I have to hurt her, but that cut is nasty and full of dirt. I pour some antiseptic onto a pad and gently wipe her arm with it as she flinches back in pain. “I’m sorry,” I say again, feeling like a total ass.

  Shit, I’m such a bastard. This girl is so delicate looking, with her almost translucent skin and tiny bone structure. I could probably wrap both of her wrists up in one of my hands and still have extra room. I should be protecting her, not inflicting more pain.

  Where did that thought come from? I don’t do feelings with women.

  “It’s okay,” she says quietly.

  Her soft, sweet voice does something to me. It reaches deep inside and ignites something that’s been dormant for a long time. Maybe she’s not as fragile as she seems on the outside. She’s trying to make me feel better for hurting her, when she’s the one who’s in pain.

  Snapping out of my bizarre thoughts, I grab a bandage and place it on the wound, quickly wrapping gauze around it to keep it in place.

  “Looks like you’ve done this before,” she says.

  Only a million times. “Yeah, a few times….” I look up at her and lose my train of thought. I thought she was gorgeous, I was wrong. Sydney is now smiling at me, and she’s fucking stunning. Like the sun lighting up the dark place in my heart, the place that’s been cold and detached since I found out how fucked up Hollywood can be.

  God, I have to stop acting like a total pussy.

  I finish wrapping her arm and notice a jagged scar. A large, old one, running along the underside of her forearm and up past her elbow. Did someone fucking hurt her? I feel an overwhelming rage start to course through my veins, bubbling up in my gut like I was just kicked. I despise feeling out of control. It doesn’t happen often, and even then, I only get upset if it involves protecting my family from the shit that follows me. It all stems from that one fucking night in L.A. so long ago that fucked with my head.

  So why do I feel this way about a girl I don’t even know?

  “What happened?” I stay as calm as I can while I trace the scar with my finger, using it as an excuse to touch her again.

  Sydney suddenly yanks her arm away, surprising the hell out of me so that I nearly fall back on my ass.

  “Nothing, I’m fine,” she snaps, jumping up and wrapping her arms around her tiny waist, as if she can protect herself from whatever shit put that scar there. “Thank you for fixing me up, I really appreciate it.” Her tone is short, detached.

  Then she ducks her head and runs for the door.

  Holy hell, what just happened?

  “Wait!”

  I can’t let her leave like this, upset, because of something I said. Thankfully, she stops before getting to the door, but she refuses to look at me, once again staring at the ground.

  Shit, asshole! I curse myself for hurting her, again.

  “Your jacket,” I hand it to her, my pathetic attempt to keep her with me longer. “It’s pretty much ruined though.”

  “Thanks,” she murmurs. “Yeah, it is.”

  I look at her and realize that without her jacket, she’s only wearing a thin T-shirt. It’s fucking forty degrees out, she’ll freeze to death! I can’t let her walk home like that, injured and poorly dressed.

  “Is that all you have to wear? It’s freezing outside.”

  Sydney just shrugs.

  Hell no. There’s no way she’s walking out of here like that. “Wait here,” I tell her.

  I have to put a shirt on and get my hat so I can walk outside with her. Not only am I half naked and barefoot, but I don’t want anyone to recognize me and intrude on my very limited time left with Sydney. I grab my clothes and stuff my feet into my shoes and run back to her.

  “Come on.” Before she can protest, I take her small hand in mine and lead her outside.

  Thank god for Bruce. He’s still right out front, waiting to take me home. He’s been driving me for years and I trust him implicitly. If I didn’t, I’d never let Sydney get in the car with him.

  I open the back door for her, “Get in.”

  Sydney stares at me like I’m insane, an untrusting look on her face. Good, she doesn’t just jump into a strange car without thinking about it first. That pleases me for some unknown reason.

  “Sydney, I’m going to have Bruce bring you home. It’s too cold for you to walk like that.” As much as I want to go with her, to spend more time in her presence, I know she’ll never get in the car if I’m going. She doesn’t think Bruce is a threat but I’m big and intimidating, so I could be dangerous for all she knows. I lean in and speak to my driver. “Bruce, take her home and then come back here. I’ll be ready to go then.”

  I look back at Sydney. She’s anxious, not sure what to do. She is already shivering in this cold, her thin shirt and tiny arms wrapped around her are no match for the icy New York weather.

  “Please,” I say to her, placing my hands on her shoulders. “I couldn’t sleep knowing I sent you out on the street to freeze.”

  I’m not sure if it’s the freezing cold wind, the fact that she’s tired and hurt, or if she actually trusts me a little bit, but the skeptical look on her face disappears. “Okay. Thank you for everything,” she says as she climbs into the warm car.

  God I want to kiss her right now, claim her as mine, protect her from whatever shit is eating at her. But that’s not me. I’m a heartless asshole who fucks women, nothing more. I don’t take care of them.

  Fighting my instincts, I lean into the car, as close as I can without freaking her out. “Take care Sydney.” Standing up, I shut the door and watch the car pull away, wondering if I just let something great slip through my fingers.

  “What the hell is wrong with you? Calm the fuck down,” my best friend says.

  I glare at Damien, and continue pacing back and forth in front of the cage, not responding to his words.

  “Dude, y
ou are so fucked,” Damien laughs.

  The tone of voice he uses gets my attention. I turn my head in his direction and see a giant smirk on his stupid face. He’s making me want to get back in the ring and pound his ass again.

  “What?” I bark at him.

  “You,” he laughs again. “You like that chick.”

  I scowl. “Shut up. I don’t even know her,”

  That asshole just keeps smiling at me. “You do like her. I don’t blame you, she’s fucking hot as hell. Even all banged up and bleeding. I’d do her.”

  I jump toward him and get in his face. “You fuckin’ stay away from her!” I snarl at my him.

  That makes Damien laugh even harder. Now I’m pissed off. I just proved him right. I do like Sydney, what little I know about her. Which, granted, isn’t much. This isn’t like me, I don’t obsess over a woman. Ever.

  “See? You totally have a thing for the redhead.”

  I turn away from Damien, pacing again. There has to be a way to see Sydney again. I curse myself again for not getting her phone number before she left. She was pretty freaked out though. She probably wouldn’t have given it to me if I had asked. The thought makes my shoulders shake with laugher.

  “What? So you finally realize that it’s funny?” Damien asks.

  “No, I just realized that the first girl in a long ass time that I’ve been interested in for more than just a fuck couldn’t wait to get the hell away from me.”

  “More than just a fuck?” Damien asks, stunned. “You really do have it bad for her. Is it the whole damsel in distress thing?”

  Lucky for Damien, I see the Town Car pull up in front of the gym, saving me from discussing this any further or punching him right on his loud mouth.

  I grab my bag and shove the door open, leaving Damien behind. “See you tomorrow,” I bark out, not bothering to wait for his reply.

  “Did she get home okay?” I ask Bruce as soon as I shut the car door.

  “Yes,” Bruce answers calmly.