Dirty Bad Boys Box Set: Forbidden Romance Collection

by Kat T. Masen

  “Mom, I’m guessing you didn’t have a great night either?”

  She shakes her head, lips pursed just like mine. Sometimes it’s like looking in the mirror. Even the way her hands wrap around the mug exactly the way mine do. To top it off, she enjoys a strong, black coffee much like myself.

  “Your only son comes home and tells you he’s married some girl after knowing her for around one minute. There goes your life-long dream of watching him get married, dressing up in some fancy suit and giving him away in front of family and friends. I don’t ask for much as a parent, Emmy, but promise me you won’t hide something that big from me.”

  “I won’t, Mom,” I reassure her, hiding the guilt that riddles me.

  What happened with Logan will never ever happen again, and as far as I’m concerned I wouldn’t class it as something big anyway. It’s a mere teeny tiny speck in our drama-filled lives.

  Her eyes begin to tear up, so I quickly offer to change the subject to something more light-hearted.

  “So, tell me, what’s your latest book about?”

  The expression on her face immediately changes. When Mom’s asked about her writing or books, you can see the passion light up her face.

  “It’s a messy love square. I know I might get some backlash from readers, but I can’t help but adore a good love square. Triangles are so done.”

  “Fun to read not fun to be in.” I smile.

  Mom begins to open her mouth when the back door bangs against the wall and the sound of Ash and Logan filter through the kitchen. I look up at the clock on the wall, it’s 7:30 a.m.

  No!

  There’s no time to escape.

  So I stare at my bowl of cereal nervously swirling the Froot Loops around the bowl and dunking them in the milk.

  “If it isn’t my overly opinionated sister. Ready to apologize yet?”

  Thirty minutes ago, I was all about grabbing life by the balls. But when the guy who you’ve practically known your whole life—and is considered as family—is standing in the same room boring his eyes into you because he made you cum, those balls have shriveled up and climbed into your asshole for shelter.

  “Of course, not. Stubborn as usual.” Ash laughs, grabbing a slice of bread and shoving it in his mouth with nothing on it.

  My eyes are heavy, refusing to make eye contact. I raise them slowly hopeful Logan’s not looking my way. As every inch of my gaze passes, my stare traces over his muscular body, analyzing it like I’ve never seen it before. By the time our eyes meet, his wicked smirk irks me as I shift my gaze once again.

  Asshole.

  “Geez Emmy, you can’t even look at me. Yeah, I get it. I got married and didn’t tell you. Would you just give Sandy a chance?”

  “Sandy?” I throw at him in amusement. “You nicknamed her Sandy? That’s so crass. Who are you? Danny Zuko?”

  “Who the hell is Danny Zuko?”

  I roll my eyes at my brother. Thank God stupidity isn’t contagious.

  “Sounds like quite a night,” Mom interrupts. “How about we slow down on the drinking?”

  “We were celebrating,” Ash claims. “At least, until Emmy ran off like a child and Logan had to save her. What the fuck were you thinking jumping into that lake? Have you not heard of all the shit lurking in those waters? Jesus Christ, Emmy!”

  I swallow the giant lump in my throat. There’s no way Logan would have told Ash anything despite them being best friends. If Ash knew, he would have said something by now and Logan would be in the firing line.

  Scrap that… Logan would be dead.

  “I agree with your brother, silly move. Look at this bite on your neck?” Mom runs her finger across the mark that Logan left. I can feel my skin blushing, almost breaking out into hives as Mom scans her eyes over it.

  I won’t look at him. Instead, I continue to stare at my colorful bowl of cereal and pretend each loop is a buoy. One I can jump into and save me from the mess I’ve allowed to happen.

  “I think I got bitten, too,” Logan pipes up.

  He removes his training shirt, showing off his sculpted abs and defined muscles. He’s covered in sweat, but it only makes his torso look extra sexy.

  You didn’t just use that word.

  While he continues to stand there half-naked, my body is battling with the unusual desire to lick the sweat from in between his abs, and the guilt that tells me I’m no better than Wes.

  “Holy shit, bro? Something got you real good,” Ash comments loudly. “You better thank Logan for saving your sorry ass, Emmy.”

  “Thanks, Logan, for saving my sorry ass,” I say dryly, pretending this conversation bores me when all I want to do is leave the room because there’s this dark hole I’m sinking into and it is calling my name.

  “It’s okay, your sorry ass is probably grateful,” he responds without emotion, matching my game.

  I stand up, then push the stool under the counter. I needed to clear my head. This is not how I intend to spend my time at home.

  “Come hang with us today, Emmy. Sandy’s out running but she’ll be back soon. We’re flying out at midnight, so we need to be outta here by eight.”

  Perfect. All I have to do is avoid them for the next thirteen hours and then I won’t be seeing Logan for a very, long time. Maybe never.

  “I’d love to, but I promised a friend I’d visit her today.”

  “What friend?” Ash questions, arms folded as if he’s called my bluff. “The hot one, Audrey-or-something, the one with the perky rack?”

  Logan’s reaction to the ‘perky rack’ comment says it all. With his grin fixed and eyes dancing with excitement, it’s easy to see he’s moved past last night. I’m just another notch on his belt.

  “No,” I reply with haste. “None of your business.”

  Leaving the kitchen, I quickly make my way down the hall and up the stairs toward my room. Turning the corner, and just a few feet from my door, I feel my body being held back and the grip on my arm tight and rigid. “You can’t avoid me forever.”

  I keep my back toward him, not wanting to deal with this right now. “I’m not another notch. It was a mistake, okay? Just a poor reaction to some bad news.”

  “Excuse me?” He turns me around to face him. Thank God his shirt’s back on. My focus moves to the picture hanging in the background. It’s my entire family including Logan and Aunty Reese. They have been in our lives forever. Even Logan’s older sister, Laura, is standing beside me holding my hand because that’s what she always did. A protector who looked out for me until she left to study in Japan with her grandparents.

  In just that one picture you can see how tight our bond is. We are family—irrelevant of the blood flowing through our veins.

  And then we both do this. It’s wrong. So very wrong.

  “What notch?” Logan growls, keeping his voice and temper unheard by the rest of the house.

  “Notch on your belt. I was upset last night. You were there. Kinda like lover’s revenge.”

  The minute I said it his expression changed. His heaving chest from his angered state remains oddly calm. His mouths opens as if he’s about to speak yet, no words come out.

  I take one last look at him, ready to terminate this conversation and walk away.

  “Thankfully, I’ve got a long belt. Another notch ain’t nothing to me,” he brags, winking at me with an air of arrogance. With just one step, his back is to me and he quickly disappears around the hall. The quick footsteps echo against the dark chocolate floorboards until they completely fade.

  Suddenly, the door to my sister’s room opens, and she’s standing against the frame in a pair of oversized sweats and a T-shirt that’s matched in size. Sitting on top of her head is a messy bun with two pencils placed like a cross, it must be the latest fad or something.

  “Ouch,” she adds with a sympathetic smile before losing attention and directing it to the cell which sits in her hand.

  “Please don’t say anything,” I beg. “It was a mistake
.”

  Yeah. A big fucking mistake.

  “I won’t,” she promises. “But only if you don’t tell Mom about this.” She pulls her sweats down and reveals a tattoo of a rose that takes up most of her upper thigh. It’s quite pretty—shaded in the colors of pink and blue.

  “Oh. You’re dead meat.” I whistle.

  “Not as much as you’ll be if she finds out about you being a notch on Logan’s very long belt.”

  I ignore her comment and enter her room. There’s a white, plush sofa near the window where I throw myself and think of my next move.

  Tayla’s room is very bright. Decorated with purple wallpaper and black and white photos scattered all over the walls. She really enjoys photography, it’s one of her passions next to texting.

  “Can I borrow your cell?” I ask, hopping up into a sitting position.

  “Yeah.” She quickly scrolls on the phone then hands it to me. “Where’s yours?”

  “Long story.”

  I send a text to Nina, telling her I’m coming home tonight. She replies instantly and tells me to sit tight while she organizes flights and bodyguards to escort me at LAX—an extra precaution given I’m alone. I don’t see the big deal and wait for fifteen minutes for the flight details to arrive.

  “I have to go back home,” I tell Tayla without mentioning anymore about Logan.

  “Mom will be sad.”

  “I know, but I have to take care of something.”

  “Okay.” She shrugs, losing interest.

  “Tayla,” I hesitate, sitting on the edge of the sofa with my feet flat on the ground. “I’m sorry if I haven’t been around much.”

  Swiveling to face me, she crosses her legs. “You’re busy. I’m busy. Ash’s busy. It’s cool.”

  “It’s not cool. I should be here for you. As a big sister.”

  Looking around her room, I realize I have no idea who she is anymore. Almost like she’s changed overnight. Tayla’s entrance to our family came with mixed emotions. It had been Ash and me for so long then all of a sudden a baby was thrown into our lives. By the time she began to walk and talk, we were hitting puberty and busying ourselves with all the cool things teenagers do.

  Since I began the show, my life has changed forever. Back-to-back filming plus, commercials, photo shoots, interviews, and then I ventured into my own business which Wes joined me soon after.

  Our fitness line is something I feel passionate about—comfortable and affordable for the everyday consumer. I added my sparkle by throwing colors and patterns, instead of your boring black workout pants. Given my popularity on the show, the demands for the clothing exceeded our expectations and made us a fortune.

  From there, we branched out further. Purchasing our apartment then a small cottage in the hills which we rent out. Wes does a ton of endorsements, and I was offered many which I declined at the time due to my hectic lifestyle. Add in there the social events including red carpets, award shows, and premieres and we have little time for anything else.

  Wes doesn’t like me coming home without him, and he’s only visited once in three years.

  That will change now.

  It’s all about to change.

  I simply need to get on a plane and find a way to end the show.

  And breaking up with Wes will do just that.

  Chapter Six

  “The key to moving on is denial.

  That, and eating cake.”

  ~ Emerson Chase

  I fell asleep on Tayla’s couch, only to wake up soon after to the sound of a horn honking out the front of the house. My vision is blurred and worsens as I rub my eyes, exhausted and drained from all the worry and stress.

  Hiding out in her room seemed logical, but with my stomach growling and my mouth parched, I know I’ll have to make my way to the kitchen eventually. And most importantly, I have to tell Mom I’m heading home early. I need a distraction. Something to occupy my mind and push away the pain even if only for a few moments.

  “Can I borrow your computer?” I ask, mindful she has ‘Property of Tayla Chase’ stickered all over her electronics.

  “Sure,” she replies, moving off the bed and to me. She leans over and types in the password quickly like I’m spying.

  I thank her kindly with a trace of sarcasm, then proceed to log into my account and check my unread emails. Nina’s sent another long email. Apparently, she’s in full damage-control mode and the network execs are beyond pissed. Wesley’s being flown back to the States for an emergency meeting. They request that I be there to discuss the future of the show also. It seems unnatural to sit in a boardroom and discuss how to fix our relationship. The thought of being in the same room with Wes makes my skin crawl. To think he could do that and expect me to carry on like nothing’s happened makes me question my sanity.

  Yet, once again, without any warning, my heart sinks as the love I feel for this man cannot easily be erased. With a quiet sniff, I hold back the tears, tired of crying over something I have no control over.

  The damage is done—he’s broken us.

  Exiting out of that email, I run the mouse along the other highlighted items. I go by an alias name of Jane Smith. The plainest name one can think of. Using my real name’s not an option with all the hackers who stalk the Internet.

  There’s a lot of junk including emails from retailers with their latest offerings, a grant to inherit money from dying widows in Africa if I click and provide my credit card details—yeah, not likely!

  My eyes immediately stop scrolling when I notice a new email from John Smith.

  Jane,

  Avoidance can only get you so far.

  John

  I check my contact list to remind myself who John Smith is then it clicks—Logan.

  Jane, John, and Joe—the three Smiths.

  We did this so we could communicate with each other and keep our lives private, but we’ve been using text messages more recently. Ash sends me links to stupid videos of animals doing crazy things, and occasionally he sends an article worth reading. Logan rarely emails me anything unless we’re in a group email.

  My fingers rest on the keyboard, not sure how to respond.

  Tayla’s busying herself watching some hair tutorial on YouTube while I stare at the screen. Slowly, at less than a snail’s pace, my fingers begin to move of their own accord.

  John,

  Same with cockiness. Don’t you have another notch to grove into your ever-growing belt?

  Jane

  I contemplate shutting down my email, but something makes me keep it open. It’s almost as if I’m waiting to see how he can possibly respond to that. I swivel around on my chair and see Tayla smiling at something on her screen. “What’s so funny?”

  She looks up, unaware I’ve been watching her. “Oh, just a comment this guy left.”

  “Oh…” I acknowledge with a grin. “A guy?”

  She nods, still smiling. “Yeah, we’re not dating. He has a girlfriend…” she pauses, her eyes going up like she’s in deep thought and then she continues, “… I think. He leaves comments here and there and they’re just funny.”

  “Young love… I remember those days. Except, we didn’t have cells so it was all about passing a note.”

  “A note? That’s so old school.”

  “You’re telling me. It would have been so much fun messaging a boy rather than passing a note down the classroom hoping that the gossip queen, Rosie Peach, won’t sneak a look at it.”

  The sound of a faint ding catches my attention. Turning around to face the screen, I see another email from John Smith. Anxiously, I open it, not realizing I’m holding my breath.

  Jane,

  I think I might retire the belt for a while. A wise woman once told me I was just like the rest of them. I’m out to prove her wrong.

  John

  My eyes dart over the email, and for some reason, I can’t hold back my smile. My words have sunk in. I try to think of a witty response, only I come up with nothing but la
me replies, so I log out of my email and turn around.

  “Should we talk about what happened in the hall?” I raise the topic wanting to clear the air and ease the guilt that’s plaguing me.

  “I think it’s pretty self-explanatory. You screwed Logan. Ash… Mom and Dad will kill you.”

  “I... I didn’t screw him,” I stammer.

  “Potato, potahto.”

  Is this a potato, potahto situation, though?

  My crazy brain is justifying what happened as a slip of a finger. Maybe it accidentally made its way around the groove and just got lost. Okay, your brain is stupid and on some sort of crack. Accidental ‘slips’ don’t result in such an intense orgasm.

  “I really don’t want to delve into the semantics but it was a mistake. Can we move on? I’ve had a shitty twenty-four hours.”

  Raising her perfectly sculpted eyebrows, she’s quick to remind me, “Sure. But you brought it up you know?”

  “I know,” I say lightly, desperate to switch topics and blaming myself for bringing it up in the first place. “Do you want to go for swim?”

  “Yeah, why not.” Tayla hops off the bed, disappearing into her wardrobe. I tell her I’ll be back, sneaking out of her room and bolting to mine like a fugitive on the run.

  ***

  “We rarely get to do the girl thing anymore.”

  Mom is dressed in a white caftan and oversized sun hat, she’s applying lotion as Tayla lays beside her drenched in oil. Mom hands the bottle to her, motioning for Tayla to put some on or out will come the story of Uncle Larry and his mystery mole that developed into skin cancer.

  “We should do a girls’ trip. No men or boys. No cells,” Mom suggests, getting comfortable on the large cabana lounge.

  “You lost me at no cells,” Tayla mumbles with closed eyes.

  “I’m in. But it’ll have to be between filming...” I trail off, almost revealing my doubts about the show even continuing. I’m grateful that Logan hasn’t said anything. At least, if he had, I know Mom would have been quick to mention it.