Unforgettable You

By Ava Olsen

Never fall in love...

Callum Pattison is an artist on the rise. But his career dreams are on hold when a stalker threatens his safety. Add to that the reappearance of Greyson Ineja, a man he shared one unforgettable night with, and another threat looms—this one aimed closer to Cal’s heart.

Never fall in love again...

Greyson Ineja is a widower whose life is all about work until he meets free-spirited Cal. Since that night, Grey sees light at the end of a very dark tunnel. Until he becomes the focus of Cal’s stalker, and his life is again thrown into turmoil.

Never say never.

A fake wedding is hatched to lure the stalker out of hiding. For Cal and Grey, one night together was incendiary... pretending to be married could be even more dangerous.

The stakes are higher the second time around, and love is the ultimate risk.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evernight
• Release date: Jun 14, 2022
• ISBN: 9780369506313

Book preview

Published by EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ® at Smashwords

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2022 Ava Olsen

ISBN: 978-0-3695-0631-3

Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

Editor: Jessica Ruth

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

In life, we all have an unspeakable secret, an irreversible regret, an unreachable dream, and an unforgettable love.

—Diego Marchi

UNFORGETTABLE YOU

NY Nights, 3

Ava Olsen

Copyright © 2022

Chapter One

Cal

Life was funny. One moment you were having a great time, not a care in the world, and the next you were intervening in an escalating argument between your bodyguard and your private detective. Yup, you heard that right…

Fuck my life, Callum Pattison thought as he shook his head. As a successful New York-based artist and illustrator, he was used to the wild and the weird and embraced new experiences. But his patience for the unusual was officially at an end.

The whole mess started ten months ago. He’d received a few weird text messages that he’d dismissed at first, until they started coming in more frequently and with more threatening tones. They’d stopped for a short while. Then they’d started up again. Someone was stalking his movements, convinced that he was some twisted version of their soul mate. His creepy cyber stalker sent a close-up picture of Cal at an invitation-only event, and that’s when things went sideways. He was scared, frustrated, and mad as hell. The current argument in front of him helped to divert his attention, if only for a little while.

Fuck off, Jon. Don’t tell me how to do my job! I was in the army for eight years, and I’ve spent five in personal protection. I know my shit! bellowed Oliver Gaston, Cal’s bodyguard. Thanks to the cyber stalker, Oliver was Cal’s shadow 24/7. There was another guard on rotation, but Oliver was his primary. At over two hundred pounds of pure chiseled muscle, he was a large, looming presence that reminded Cal that his life was no longer in his control.

Jon scoffed and rolled his eyes. All I said was, Cal needs a dog for added security. What happens when you’re out somewhere and you go on a piss break or get distracted by a hot piece of ass. Who’s looking out for him then?

Cal winced at Jon’s very direct verbal assault on Oliver and watched as Oliver’s red face morphed to an alarming shade of purple. Jon Thackery was an experienced investigator hired to unearth the person behind this cyber campaign. Jon had outstanding success with his cases, but he had absolutely no goddamn tact.

Oliver pointed his finger at Jon’s chest. Are you for real? We always have Cal covered. When Elijah replaces me for my breaks, or vice versa. And while I’m with him, I’m his shadow. And I’m not easily distracted, so don’t insult my integrity!

Cal ran a hand through his hair and sighed. It was difficult enough getting used to other people in his space all the time, telling him what he could and couldn’t do, but now this?

Hey, guys? Cal yelled and finally got their attention. I’m the one whose life is upside down because of this sick fucker. Can we break up this argument? I have an exhibit coming up in two weeks. It’s bad enough we postponed it three months. Further delays are not acceptable. I can’t work in this environment with the two of you bickering like an old married couple.

Oliver and Jon shut up after that comment and whipped their heads around to face Cal. The silence only lasted five seconds, and then both men let loose.

I’m trying to help…

He’s acting like an ass…

Enough! Cal exploded as he raised his hands. Both men went silent. He glanced at one, then the other, shaking his head. Jon was slim and wiry, with close-cropped brown hair and brown eyes. Oliver was wide and bulky, with a military style buzz cut and pale green eyes. Normally, Cal would’ve taken the opportunity to flirt with both men, but after being around them for the past couple of weeks, they were getting on his last fucking nerve.

Cal pivoted and walked over to one of the large picture windows in his loft that faced Lafayette Street in NoHo. He’d moved here a few years ago, charmed by the creative vibe that populated the Greenwich Village community. He’d snapped up the old loft before anyone could talk him out of it. Then he’d spent the last few years renovating it to suit his needs. It was close to 1100 square feet, a large home by New York standards. With lots of windows for natural light, it was the perfect bedrock for his artistic expression to thrive. He kept the design to a mostly white aesthetic, a blank canvas as it were, that allowed his art to take center stage. He used texture instead of color throughout to warm up the space, including whitewashed brick walls, woven pillows, and chunky knit throws. It was a serene sanctuary. Or, it used to be.

The past month had been a one-eighty from his usual non-stop life. He almost didn’t recognize himself. He hadn’t gone out to a club, a bar, barely a restaurant since the art gala incident in November. The only time he’d ventured out was for the opening reception of Mac’s LGBTQ youth center two weeks ago, on Valentine’s Day. His best friend Mac and his partner, Luca, had ensured that security was tight for the event, but it wasn’t enough. Cal received another creepy message from his stalker that came with a picture of himself at the event, and he ended up having an anxiety attack. That fucker had gotten close, too close. Cal had never fainted before, and the doctor he saw afterward ran every test imaginable. Diagnosis: stress. Like he needed a doctor to tell him that. On top of everything else, Cal hadn’t had sex in months, and it was making him antsy. He was used to convenient hook-ups that offered an hour or two of blissful distraction. Well, except for one distraction. Greyson.

Cal shivered as he thought about the one man he’d slept with months ago that he kept trying to put out of his mind but couldn’t. He couldn’t forget that face. Crystal-blue eyes that drew Cal in from the first time they met—earnest and kind one moment and dark and full of heat the next. He remembered the feel of Grey’s thick chestnut curls and his soft, sexy mouth. Then he thought about the rest of the man, his long slim body, powerful arms, and hands that instinctively found Cal’s sensitive spots. Grey had a gorgeous smile, a deep laugh, and a commanding tone in bed… Stop thinking about him! Easier said than done when he saw the man frequently since that night.

They both pretended their one night of unforgettable sex hadn’t happened. Grey’s best friend, Wes Stewart, recently married Cal’s best friend, Ryker. So that meant Grey would be around him and their circle of friends. Even more so since Cal fired his previous PR rep and Grey stepped in to help. Cal needed someone he could trust, personally and professionally. Given their friends’ connection and Grey’s reputation, it was a no-brainer. But working with someone he’d slept with was an unfamiliar experience for Cal and one that was proving extremely distracting and frustrating. Much like the rest of his life.

Cal shifted his thoughts to where they should be, on the two men hired to find this asshole stalker and to protect Cal. He didn’t know how much longer he could live in this fishbowl, circling and circling but going nowhere, unable to escape.

Sorry, Cal, you hired me to find this person and here I am, antagonizing your security lead. I apologize, Jon said as he continued to stare down Oliver. I need to follow up with my IT contact to see if they’ve dug up any information from the last message and the security footage from the youth center. Call my cell as needed. Oliver, I’ll text you later today.

Jon grabbed his yellow scarf and his laptop and was out the door. Oliver stood staring at the door but said nothing.

I’m going to get back to my latest piece and a few illustration samples for Ryker, Cal murmured as he moved from the living area to the studio space in the next room.

Oliver nodded and sat down on the nearby sofa, reaching for his laptop. Okay, I’ll be working on the art gallery security plan. Holler if you need me.

He didn’t need to holler since he was only two feet away, but Cal kept the smart-ass comment to himself and sauntered over to his favorite room, his art studio. This was the first space he’d renovated in the apartment, and he’d spared no expense. He’d repainted the room and added recessed lighting. Cal loved to work with music blasting, so he had a killer sound system installed. The heated tile floors looked like wood but were more durable and comfortable under his bare feet and easy to clean. He’d also installed a small kitchenette with a fridge and sink. Two large windows framed the west and south side of the room. He left the blinds up so he could get as much natural light as possible.

Cal walked over to the west wall and the long leather sofa that sat below the window. Here on the tenth floor, he had a close-up view of the buzzing city street below and it never grew old. He loved the frenetic pace of the city. He shivered as he thought about the house where he’d grown up, the lonely silence filled only by stilted conversations. Unpleasant memories that he usually pushed to the side. Mac had his grandfather, while Ryker had his mom and sister, but Cal… Cal had two unemotional parents that couldn’t care less what happened to him. He’d grown up in a household devoid of hugs and love. All his parents cared about was how much money they had and how to gain more.

He’d overheard his mother on the phone when he was fifteen and discovered that his birth had not been welcome news. But his parents were very aware that being childless in their social circle was frowned upon, so they kept him, got him a nanny, and sent him to the best schools. But they never paid him any real attention. Any love he’d ever received came from his aunt Marley. His mom’s sister was similar in looks, but day to night in terms of personality. Marley was all warmth, laughter, and sweet kindness. She’d married an artist from Sierra Leone, Harry Djabo, when Cal was twelve. Her family disinherited her at that point. His parents’ behavior disgusted Cal to this day. As soon as he turned eighteen, he left home and never looked back. He moved in with his aunt and uncle and thrived under their love and care. His uncle Harry was also the reason Cal was now an artist himself. His aunt and uncle moved back to Africa when Cal was in his early twenties, but Cal stayed in New York, content with his life’s direction.

He walked over to grab a bottle of mineral water from the fridge and stared at his reflection in the mirrored tile. The past month had been stressful, and it showed. His straight blond hair was almost to his shoulders and in need of a good trim, and there were dark circles under his brown eyes. Small laugh lines bracketed his eyes, and the few freckles on his nose and cheeks seemed darker compared to the rest of his skin. He’d lost weight, too, his cheekbones sharper. His ripped blue jeans were looser around the waist, and his denim shirt not the usual tight fit. He was slim but strong, preferring to swim and run as opposed to lifting weights.

His anxiety about this asshole stalker was causing physical and mental changes. It was taking more and more effort to get his creative juices going, and this worried him most of all. He used to spend hours in his studio, totally immersed in his imaginative state of play. But now … now he needed a fucking distraction or a drink to help him relax. And he shouldn’t have either, since he needed to stay sharp about his surroundings. Except for Valentine’s Day. You didn’t mind drowning your sorrows in alcohol then, did you? Unfortunately, he remembered every detail of that day…

"Don’t you think you should hold off on the drinking for now? You need to stay sharp," Grey murmured as they stood in the lobby of Skills for Change with the other guests.

"No, I don’t! This asshole turned my life into a prison, and I’m about ready to lose it. I appreciate your PR advice, and I trust you because of your friendship with Wes, but please leave the personal shit, like how much I drink, alone. I don’t need a keeper." Cal’s harsh words ended on a growl, and Grey’s expression hardened as he leaned in close to Cal’s ear.

"Are you sure about that? As I recall, a firm hand is just what you like," Grey whispered as his eyes darkened with lust, and Cal was helpless to look away…

Cal shook out the unwanted memory. Get out of my head, Grey, he said out loud to the empty room. He turned to the easel and his latest piece. It was his largest work to date, darker and sexier in tone. Probably all the angst and frustration he had inside him lately. The gallery showing in two weeks would be his third major exhibit in five years and the most prestigious one to date. If a piece made it to the Atonement Gallery, well, most artists could get five or six figures for their work after that. He was on the cusp of a major career boost, if only he could avoid a total nervous breakdown.

He reached for the phone in his jeans and tapped away. A second later, My My My blasted out of the speakers. Cal let the drumbeat and the throbbing bass rhythm flow through him. He whipped off his restrictive shirt and picked up his brushes and was back at work. As a mixed medium artist, Cal used paints, fabrics, and sometimes photographs in his work. He also created all of Ryker’s science fiction fantasy book covers and enjoyed those projects as well.

As he mixed his acrylics, he noticed that the blue he’d created was the exact shade of Grey’s eyes. Shit. He shouldn’t be thinking about him again. The man was one-and-done. It was best that way because Grey was a widower. He was still healing, grieving. He’d lost his wife almost two years ago in a car accident. Wes mentioned Grey had dated men and women prior to getting married, so their hook-up wasn’t unusual. Cal had probably been a much-needed outlet to break Grey’s sexual drought. The man was likely dating back home in Toronto. Cal winced at that thought, then shook it off. But the memories of their night together replayed in his mind like erotic snapshots—decadent, dirty, heady. Not his usual hook-up. He reached for additional paints and let his fiery vision of that night fuel the creativity on the canvas in front of him.

Cal exorcised his conflicted thoughts and desires through his art. It was the safest way to deal with a longing he couldn’t understand and the one man he wanted but shouldn’t.

Chapter Two

Grey

It wouldn’t be a Monday morning in public relations without a client catastrophe. The urgent call today concerned a newbie celebrity with a hit TV show who had forgotten to tell his producers that he was a nude model back when he was twenty. Once you become famous, all bets are off in terms of your past and your privacy, and this client was learning the hard way. The photographer released pictures, and the social media storm that erupted was now the focus of conversation.

Greyson Ineja muted his conference call and disconnected his video feed so he could check his phone for any urgent client messages. Or rather, text messages from one specific blond artist. Nothing.

He unmuted and popped on video again to talk to his client.

Sorry for the technical issue. Can you hear and see me now? Grey asked calmly and with his best smile. He excelled in public relations because of his calm and controlled manner. Lots of people had the smarts, but if they weren’t grace under pressure, forget it.

Yes, Grey. Now please, please, tell me you have a plan to deal with this mess! My agent is fielding calls from irate sponsors threatening to pull my promos. I’m fucking screwed, man!

The actor in question was in his late twenties and model perfect. He was a main character on a hit comedy show, and Grey admitted that the man could act. Unfortunately, the client’s past had come back to bite him in his perfect ass, and Grey was ready to mitigate the damage.

The first thing you need to do is stay calm. I know that sounds cliché, but getting upset will not change the situation or make you feel better. Trust me, I have seen clients in much worse predicaments than yours. He took a dramatic pause, ensuring he had his client’s attention.

"Here’s the plan. One, we will release a press statement via social media and other channels. You will acknowledge the ‘artistic photos’ and take ownership of the pictures. Have your lawyer reach out to the photographer with a cease-and-desist order and request to obtain the negatives. If you worked