Dirty Bad Boys Box Set: Forbidden Romance Collection

by Kat T. Masen

  “Jesus fucking Christ.” I hear the relief in her voice. “Thank God. My phone’s blowing up.”

  “Sorry. I had no idea he wrote that. Call him and get him to post something to shut everyone up. I don’t know... I’m so over it.”

  “I get you’re over it…” she responds with frustration, “… but you still have a job to do and I’m busting my ass to get things tied up. Don’t give me extra work to do by posting silly little lies like this.”

  “Nina…” my tone is sharp, my patience wearing thin, “… I didn’t do this. Take this shit out on Wesley. I need to go.”

  “Em…” she calls out, apologetic, “… I’m sorry. I have a lot on my plate. Tomorrow’s the magazine article and feature spread of your engagement. The photos of the ring and possible dresses will be made public. Don’t forget to share the article online. We need to push hard or the magazine will retract future deals if we don’t make target.”

  “I don’t feel right about this. What’s going to happen when everything’s called off?”

  “Then the tabloids get what they want… the controversy, the drama. C’mon, Em, you know how it all works.”

  “I know. I just don’t agree.” I remain sullen, feeling sorry for myself. “How much longer do I need to stay here… with Wes?”

  “Look. I know it’s hard. It can’t be easy to stay with a man you don’t love—”

  “I never said I didn’t love him,” I interrupt.

  “Then what are you saying? You want to marry him? This changes the whole game.”

  The game.

  Two words that impact my already-fragile emotions.

  I want to run away from it all. Give up and just move to some country town in the middle of nowhere where nobody gives a fuck about who I am. Where I can walk down the street dressed in the grungiest of clothes and people simply don’t care or judge me.

  “Nina, Wesley and I are over. I know what’s going to happen when this story breaks… I’ll pretty much have to go into hiding till it all dies down. I just don’t get why this article is still going forward? It might not sit well with some people.”

  It won’t sit well with Logan.

  His jealous streak has only gotten worse—a side of him I’ve never seen. In some ways, it terrifies me. I don’t know what he’s capable of. He isn’t the Logan Carrington I once knew. He’s this obsessive creature who doesn’t know how to express his feelings.

  A quick phone call turns into an hour-long conversation about our upcoming commitments. I can hear the constant beep in the background, knowing everyone’s chasing my tail to see if it’s true.

  I could kill Wesley with my bare hands right now.

  When we hang up the call, so I reluctantly check my screen and see only Logan’s name. You received 10 missed calls from Logan Carrington.

  Logan: Why won’t you pick up your fucking phone?!!

  Logan: I’m dead serious Emerson. Answer my calls.

  Logan: If this is your way of paying me back, we’re fucking over. I never pegged you to be this vindictive, but apparently you are. Have a nice fucking life, Mrs. Rich.

  I don’t know how to react to such a snarky message. I could call him. Set the record straight. But I told him to trust me, although we did leave things in the air back in London. Several times I find myself on the verge of dialing his number but quickly retract, knowing that any communication between us won’t end well. I need time to think about us, away from him, because he has a way of confusing my state of mind with his charm and irresistible body.

  Sitting on the large wicker chair, I tuck my legs beneath me with George snuggled into my side. The day is slightly overcast with a chance of rain in the late afternoon. The wind picks up a little, yet still warm and refreshing, as we continue to sit in silence.

  The temptation’s too great.

  With my cell resting on my lap, I grab it and Google Logan Carrington and Louisa Hemmings.

  Several images appear of the two of them—mainly at dinners and charity events. Remembering Ash’s comments, I study the photos looking for traces of happiness. Something in Logan’s face which indicates she was or still is the love of his life. Dammit—where’s Poppy when I need her?

  I hit dial, and ring her number wanting her to do another one of her face readings.

  “Em?” She sounds surprised to hear from me. “Is everything okay? What’s with Wes’ baby mama comment? Everyone’s going nuts. I was filming with Farrah when she read it, and the cameras caught Farrah’s very colorful opinion of his post.”

  “I didn’t realize he’d do that. I’m too tired to think about it. Let people think what they want. The truth will come out in nine months when no baby is on that vagina log ride.”

  Poppy’s infectious laugh barrels through the speaker. “Your brother, honestly.” She sighs.

  “Are you okay? You sound a bit off.”

  “Who me? I just have... a nasty bug. Must have picked it up from traveling.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry...” I can tell she’s distracted.

  “Listen, Em… can I call you back? I need to grab some painkillers or something.”

  I tell her to call me back whenever she feels up to it. Quickly hanging up the call, I dial Ash’s number next.

  “What?” he answers agitated.

  “Nice greeting. What’s crawled up your ass and died?”

  “Nothing,” he stalls, then continues, “What’s been happening?”

  “Same old. And you?”

  “Training, you know, same stuff. So, are you knocked up?”

  “What do you think, moron? So... how did training go today... for you and, um… Logan?”

  “Since when did you care so much?” Ash snickers. “Logan bailed. He had something to do that was more important. The cunt pisses me off anyway.”

  I scowl at Ash’s choice of words but wonder why Logan would ditch training. “That’s odd of him.”

  “Fuck, yeah. I bet he’s off screwing Louisa since she turned up at our apartment last night.”

  My stomach flips, followed by a rapid burning sensation that stops my regular breathing. I can’t believe this. He’s run back to her and here I am feeling so fucking sorry for myself because he screwed me over.

  What happened in London was purely to get me into bed.

  All those words—meant nothing.

  Everything we did—nothing.

  “Anyway, just wanted to see how you are.”

  “You okay, Emmy?”

  “I will be.”

  ***

  I tossed and turned, lost in a sea of nightmares all involving Logan. When the sun came up, I went for a long run along the beach, attempting to clear my head. George came with me, chugging along and not impressed at all with an early morning run.

  I’m never one to meditate but sit on the beach with my eyes closed searching for my Zen. I establish right there and then that I have no Zen.

  Zen could only be achieved with a bottle of tequila.

  Since it’s just after 7:00 a.m. I figure it might be too early for that and opt for a fruit smoothie. It certainly doesn’t have the same effect.

  Tayla turns up just after midday, dressed in denim cut-offs and an oversized black tee. Already bored, she begs me to go out so she can explore LA. “Let’s go out, Emmy. Shopping, drinks...”

  I smile at her eagerness to grow up. “Shopping yes, drinking no. You’re only sixteen.”

  “Sixteen these days is like twenty-one. Besides, I’ve drunk before.”

  Not long later we’re driving to The Grove with the top down and allowing our skin to soak in the sun. I’m happy to spend time with Tayla, chatting away and talking about all the things girls love to discuss. A nice distraction from my fucked-up love life. Despite it being only us girls, Jimmy said he’ll be close by in case something happens.

  “I don’t want to know why you’ve drunk, or how it’s possible, but no drinking on my watch. I need to return you to Mom and Dad in one piece.”

&nb
sp; “Argh,” she drags beneath her shades. “You’re just like Mom. What about tonight? Can we at least do something fun?”

  “Sure. What do you have in mind?”

  “A party?”

  I laugh. “Most parties involve alcohol which means no one underage. Leave it with me, I’ll see if Scarlett knows of anything going on tonight.”

  “Wow! Do you think she’ll be there?”

  I shrug, driving in the parking lot where I pull the car into the first spot I see available.

  We spend the afternoon shopping like crazy. I enjoy spoiling my sister. Granted Mom will give me an earful for the clothes I allow her to purchase. Paparazzi follow, but they aren’t too invasive and allow us to do our own thing.

  Inside Barneys New York, a few shoppers stop me to take photographs and sign autographs, something I haven’t done in a while since fans are more eager for pictures than my signature.

  When my feet become sore and tired, I suggest we stop at Groundwork Coffee for a much-needed caffeine pick me up. I order myself a double-shot espresso and something less strong for Tayla.

  “So, I spoke to Ash yesterday.” She grins, blowing on the foam that steams from the top of her cup. “Logan’s been a bit down in the dumps.”

  “Maybe he has his period.”

  Tayla laughs, almost spilling her drink all over her cell that sits on the table in front of her. “What happened in London? You don’t need to sugar coat it for me. I’m a big girl.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “I thought what happened at home was a one-time thing? You only have to stalk the two of you online to see something’s going between you guys.”

  The bitter taste of espresso goes down my throat the wrong way causing a coughing fit. When I finally come for air—despite the whole restaurant on edge waiting to see if I’m okay—I bow my head wanting to keep this conversation confidential. “I don’t believe that.”

  “Here.” She shows me a ton of photographs, many of Logan and I together in London that I didn’t realize had been taken. Most sites make no reference to us being any more than family friends, aside from one. A small blogger from London who’s documented our every move and suggested we’re having an affair.

  “We need to get out of here,” I say panic-stricken, the anxiety creeping in as heat rises beneath my skin.

  “Are you okay?” Tayla asks, worried.

  “I will be.” My throat closes in, and with force I pull her along, my other arm full of shopping bags until we’ve reached the car and are sitting inside just the two of us.

  “What the hell happened back there?”

  “I... I don’t know,” I cry openly. “It’s so messed up. I don’t know what to do. Whichever way I look at it, I’m hurting someone.”

  “But you knew this,” Tayla reminds me softly. “Your life is not ordinary. Whatever you do is seen by everyone. Can I ask you something?”

  I nod quietly, grabbing the tissue she hands to me.

  “How serious are things with Logan?”

  Letting out a long-winded sigh, I tell her about my feelings while not holding anything back. “I think I love him. I mean, I’ve always loved him as family but not like this.”

  “Do you think he loves you?”

  “I can’t answer that.” I fall into a silence, closing my eyes and remembering his words in London. “He’s really complicated, and to be honest, I just don’t know.”

  “It’s hard for me to even think of Logan in any way besides a brother figure. Him and Ash are douches, you know. This side of him that you see, I can’t even imagine it.”

  I can’t hide my smile. “When we’re alone there’s this spark. Like we’re battling but it’s a good battle. Does that make sense?”

  Tayla frowns, pulling her hair out of the bun that sits on top of her head, only to place it in a bun again. “Ah, not really. Like a sex battle?”

  “Sometimes.” I chuckle softly.

  “La, la, la, la,” she sings, pressing against her ears. “Are you done with the sex talk?”

  I roll my eyes at her, blowing my nose at the same time. “There was no sex talk.”

  “Listen…” she shuffles to her side, grabbing my hand and squeezing it tight, “… we’ve got a ton of new dresses and shoes. Let’s go out tonight and pretend Logan and Wesley don’t exist. Just a girls’ night out with dancing and no drinks, at least for me. You can get wasted if you want.” She laughs.

  “You know what?” I smile through my tears. “It sounds like the perfect plan.”

  ***

  After talking with Scarlett, she hooks us up with a party, but it’s all the way in Orange County. We arrive late to find the party’s in full swing and hosted by a popular DJ who frequents celebrity hot spots.

  The house is a mansion. All white with glass windows everywhere you look. It sits on the beach, surrounded by a massive garden with an Olympic-sized pool.

  I’ve never seen Tayla so excited with her cell in hand Snapchatting the whole night. She tried to explain to me how it works, but I was only half-listening, eager to unwind and get my hands on the blue cocktails the waiters are handing out. With a cocktail in hand, I quickly remind her to stick by me and no drinking whatsoever. It’s somewhere into my second cocktail that a familiar voice calls my name.

  Farrah.

  “Oh my God... look who it is. Without Wesley, of course.”

  She kisses my cheek—a kiss of death.

  She reeks of perfume and plastic, dressed in a skimpy strapless red dress that makes her tits look like watermelons. Her body’s drowning in jewels with well over a million dollars draped around her neck.

  “Wesley’s in Cabo.”

  “I think he may have mentioned it.” Her normally confident manner is slightly off. Her fingers nervously fidgeting with her necklace. “So, you’re here... alone? No man to keep you warm?”

  “My sister, Tayla,” I briefly introduce them and notice Tayla already has on her resting bitch face. I know she doesn’t like Farrah, after all not that many people do.

  “Right. Nice to meet you. You’ll have to excuse me, I have people to mingle with.”

  I’m glad she leaves us alone, walking away to another crowd desperate for her presence—making her the center of attention.

  We hang out near the front lawn where the marquee’s set up and beats blast through the massive speakers. Losing ourselves to the music, we dance for a long time, letting loose and feeling free. My purse is hung across my body and begins to vibrate against my hip. I pull out my cell while trying to sway my body, to see missed calls from Logan.

  Ignore.

  Ignore.

  Ignore.

  There’s a group of guys and girls beside us who look about Tayla’s age. One guy, in particular, takes to Tayla and begins dancing with her. To prove I’m not at all like Mom, I let her move away and dance with him while I continue to dance with a very handsome older man who happens to be near me. He’s kinda sexy and reminds me of McDreamy from Gray’s Anatomy—a silver fox with ripped muscles and a cocky grin.

  My purse continues to vibrate.

  Ignore.

  Ignore.

  Ignore.

  He appears harmless, a flirtatious smile and what’s even better is he’s keeping his hands to himself.

  I’ve only had a few cocktails and won’t take him to bed. Screw the fucking tabloids! I’ll dance with this man and that’s that.

  So fucking what.

  The DJ mixes some awesome tunes, a remix of Lady Gaga’s Telephone. I sway my body to the rhythm of the music until harmless man places his hands on my hips. I ignore his touch and use my vibrating purse as an excuse to ask him to move his hand away.

  I place my finger on my ear, trying to listen to the call. “Hello?”

  “Emerson…” My name is said in a cold and heartless tone, but the noise makes it difficult to hear anything else. “Walk. Away. Now.”

  “Huh?” I pull the cell away from my ear and see t
he caller ID—Logan.

  Jesus, even from England he has the worst timing. What the hell is his problem? Doesn’t he understand I don’t want anything to do with him after the Louisa love-of-his-life-over-breakfast incident?

  The whole purpose of going out tonight is to have fun with Tayla who’s conveniently disappeared. I tell handsome man I need to go find my sister, walking away from him and out of the marquee until I’m on the lawn where it meets the sand. I can see her with the group of friends she’s made, waving back as they all sit in a circle near the shoreline. A few of them chase each other on the sand, laughing and carefree like typical teenagers.

  I continue to watch them, inhaling the salty air and remembering the last time I felt like this. The night back at home, the night I found out about Wesley. The night my entire world flipped upside down and changed forever.

  “When I tell you to pick up your fucking phone, do it.”

  My body remains rooted, frozen by the voice who spoke only moments ago. I close my eyes, blaming the cocktails for my imagination running wild.

  “Open your eyes and look at me.”

  I open my eyes instantly, keeping silent as my chest begins to tighten, and in reverse my stomach weakens by the possibility that this is real. In a deadly slow pace, I turn around and see Logan standing right beside me. How is this even possible? He was in England yesterday.

  My tongue is twisted, unable to speak coherently as he continues to stand beside me. His eyes glare at my chest, stunned to see me dressed in a short, white dress with a plunging-low neckline. My breasts remain secured by a ton of Hollywood tape, careful not to parade the twins in public. My self-confidence is amiss, but I don’t let it show or allow it to steer us from the situation.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Nice,” he says like a stranger, callous and much like the old Logan I used to know. “I flew all the way here and not even a ‘nice to see you’?”

  I don’t have any words for him, not after what Ash had just told me and his obsessive behavior of late.

  My head moves swiftly. “Is there a reason you’re here? Don’t you have a new girlfriend back home who needs attention?” I cross my arms, folding them beneath my breasts then realize that a nip slip is imminent. Slowly, I move my arms down so they’re by my side. “And how did you even know I was here?”