by Kat T. Masen
“It doesn’t matter.” He keeps his voice firm, and his stare cold. “I don’t like other men touching you.”
“What other men?”
“The man on the dancefloor,” he grits.
“Oh, please,” I retort, insulted he thinks I would have taken it further because that’s what he’s insinuating. “It was nothing but harmless dancing.”
“Nothing…” he bellows with his lips tight, “… is harmless when it comes to you.”
I’m not sure what to say. The man you love is standing beside you as jealous as hell and all you can think about is how good he looks in the pair of jeans and the white tee he’s wearing. His face is unshaven but so handsome and rugged, only making it harder for me to concentrate.
“You make it sound like I’m trouble. And I take offense to that,” I tell him, getting on my high horse and switching the blame. “God, Logan. You fucking make all these promises in London then I find out your almost-fiancée wants you back. The so-called love of your life.” I air-quote with resentment.
“Are you still sleeping with Rich?”
“What?” I say in shock. “How many fucking times do I have to tell you… no? Jesus, why can’t you just believe me? I’ve never, ever given you a reason not to trust me. Unlike you and Linda what’s-her-face.”
“Louisa.”
“Yeah,” I reply, hurt. “Thanks for reminding me.”
“Reliable sources say you’re pregnant.”
Reliable sources are never reliable.
Logan should know that.
I’m not sure why he continues to believe the lies floating around.
“Does it look like I’m pregnant to my ex-fiancé?”
He bows his head, chin down with his voice low yet full of rage. “Why didn’t you pick up my calls? Or answer any of my texts?”
I begin to walk away where the guests can’t see us, annoyed at having to defend myself once again to a man who knows the real me. “Because it doesn’t warrant a response. We’ve been over this and yet, you refuse to trust me.”
“You don’t leave me many options,” he shouts back, startling me. “I fucking have to live with watching the two of you. Do you even know what that’s like?”
“Probably the same as being told that Louisa dropped by your apartment.” I laugh out of spite. “And knowing you, you would have lapped that up. Taken her to your room and shown her a good ol’ time.”
“I can’t do this.” He shakes his head while running his hands nervously through his hair. “I can’t even think straight anymore. You’re on the front of a magazine… happily engaged Emerson Chase... how the hell do you want me to deal with that?”
“I don’t know, okay? Everything’s against us. We are oh, so very wrong for each other. We’re like fire and gasoline. A deadly combination.”
“We should stop this, all of this.”
“We should,” I say quietly, swallowing the lump in my throat and keeping my head low, so he doesn’t see the pain that tears through me when he said those words.
Outside the property there’s a gap between the house and the neighbor’s yard. There appears to be no one home next door as the lights are off and there’s nothing but darkness. In between the houses we stand in the dark with a full moon above us. Although he’s standing an arm’s length away, his scent is smothering all my senses and allowing my body to drown in his presence.
The music is loud and plays around us. I make the decision to tell him we’re over, that I need to sort everything out before anything else. The next few weeks will be stressful enough and I don’t need a complicated love triangle to be confusing the situation.
I begin to open my mouth when the cold hits my back and Logan has slammed me up against the concrete wall. I draw his lips to mine, kissing him deeply and losing myself in his touch. He makes me come alive with a simple kiss that ignites all of me despite the wrong that follows us around. The heat of his hands wrap around my ass, lifting me up, as his strong kisses ravage my neckline soothe me.
“Logan,” I pant, straightening my back, trying to gather some clarity. “We shouldn’t do it here.”
“I can’t wait,” he responds between kisses with the sound of his belt hitting the ground as he pulls me into him, sliding my panties to the side. “Arms against the wall.” He lifts and places them flat, demanding they stay there. “Why do you keep torturing me?” The desperation in his voice echoes in my ears, accelerating the beating of my heart until there’s nothing to say but the honest truth. “Because you torture me with your obsessive need to control what I do.”
He bows his head, running his tongue down the middle of my chest. His jaw is prominent. A slight moan escapes between his perfect lips. “I’m not going to ask you…” his tone changes to more rough and demanding, “… I’m going to be the only man in your life. No more bullshit. No more questions. It’s just us now. You, me, and no one else.”
The weight of his words kick-starts my emotions, and with him buried inside me penetrating that persistent ache, the intensity of what we’re both feeling drives me into a blissful orgasm, my body screaming in delight as I ride it out through his deep thrusts.
The rise and fall of my chest consumes me, my eyesight blinded by the stars that shine brightly during my explosive finish. He rests his body against mine, keeping himself inside as he kisses my breasts.
I push him off with care, adjusting my dress and panties while he pulls his jeans up and buckles his belt. When our breathing stabilizes, he holds my face with his hands and kisses my mouth softly.
“I thought I’d find you here.” The sound of Wesley’s voice breaks our moment.
It’s finally come to this—no more lies, no more secrets.
Instinctively, I position myself between Logan and Wesley. Even behind me, I can hear the growl escaping Logan’s throat.
“What are you doing here?” I ask nervously, watching Wesley move closer. He’s a complete mess. Shirt half unbuttoned and hair in a shamble. In one hand, he holds a bottle of bourbon and brings it to his mouth, drinking straight from the bottle.
“Why am I here?” An evil laugh escapes his drunken lips. “Because I need to see for myself. You see, your perfect new boyfriend isn’t so perfect.”
“Wesley, it’s over. You’ve seen it now.”
“Oh…” he mouths, stumbling forward, “… I’ve seen it all right. I saw the way he fucked that tight little pussy of yours against the wall. You did that nice moan, the one when you’re just about to cum. I just wish I could have joined in, you know, double team you.”
I shake my head, shocked at his callous words. “You’re drunk.”
“Yeah.” He lowers his head with a smirk, his body inches away which only intensifies Logan’s growl behind me. “C’mon, Em, you want two cocks inside you? You’re a slut just like the rest of them.”
The rage consumes me, my arm ready to swing until Logan holds me back. I wriggle out of his grip.
Why the fuck is he just standing there doing nothing?
“Control your woman, Carrington. Or I’ll have to tell her how you tried to pay me to walk away.”
What did he just say?
There’s a high-pitched scream for help that sounds in the distance. I push Wesley aside and run toward the sound. A large group on the beach surrounds a body on the sand. I run through the grit with difficulty, my feet sinking in making my pace slow.
A man yells for someone to call 911.
The panic urges me to run faster until I’m amongst the crowd pushing everyone away. When it’s all clear, I see two bodies lying on the sand, unconscious—Tayla and another girl.
I fall to my knees and scream louder for help, placing my mouth on hers in a state of panic with no clue what I’m doing. I begin to sob, helpless as everyone else who watches on.
Logan and Wesley push everyone out of the way including me and begin resuscitating the both of them. In Wesley’s drunken state, he manages to revive the other girl until she’s cough
s up water and opens her eyes, dazed and confused.
Beside her, Logan is on his knees, panicked. I pray through loud sobs for her to wake up, call her name and beg her to hang on. My legs begin to shake, desperate to give way, yet I somehow muster up the strength to remain alert because losing my sister is not an option.
And then, as if the Lord above listens to my loud prayers, her eyes spring open and her body jerks forward as she purges all the water from her lungs.
The crowd lets out a huge gasp of relief.
Logan falls back into a crumpled heap, tired and worn-out by his efforts to save her.
I should thank him for saving her.
But instead, I embrace my sister and ignore him beside me, wishing nothing had ever happened between us.
Chapter Twenty
“Tick. Tick. Boom.”
~ Logan Carrington
I fall to the ground, desperately trying to revive Tayla. My brain scrambles to remember CPR training clouding my fear of losing her because I’ve gone completely blank. One look at Wesley reviving the unknown girl jogs my memory. I open her airway and give her two rescue breaths, then compress her chest, ignoring the cries surrounding me.
Thirty fucking times.
Do this thirty fucking times.
Don’t panic.
The other girl gains consciousness, distracting me for a moment until my focus is back on Tayla. Her pale face and gray lips haunt me as I lay my own lips onto hers and give her another two rescue breaths. Warm air rushes against my lips, it’s a sign she’s breathing and within seconds, her eyes open wide with her body following in shock.
The relief washes over me.
Adrenalin running through me spiked by fear and the unknown. Emerson’s leaning over Tayla, murmuring through tears, making sure she acknowledges her and isn’t suffering from any permanent damage.
The paramedics arrive and check both girls over. Tayla explains that the other girl was mucking around in the water and underestimated the current. When the group saw her panicking, Tayla ran in to help her but got dragged into a rip. Thankfully, two guys were late-night surfing and heard the screams just in time.
The party has stopped and all eyes are fixated on where we stand. It angers me that many have their cells out, eagerly taking photos of what happened. Emerson doesn’t care, avoiding me and not saying a word despite Tayla thanking me over and over again before being carried to the ambulance.
At the hospital, Wesley and I wait outside the room sitting on the hard, plastic chairs. We keep our distance, not saying a word to each other. The doctors check Tayla as a precautionary measure and with that, one of us had to call Chris and Abbi to inform them of what’s happened.
Emerson’s still in a state of shock by her sister’s side, and still refusing to talk to Wesley or me. Even Wesley looks remorseful, standing up and pacing the corridor with bloodshot eyes, coming down from whatever substance he’s taken.
When Chris answers the phone, I tell him and Abbi that Tayla’s okay now, but of course, explain what happened. He asks a million questions in a state of panic, and most importantly why I’m in LA.
I promise him I will answer everything later, but for now, that I’ll make sure Tayla rests and gets better. It doesn’t ease his worries with both of them catching the next flight over to see their daughter.
The paparazzi caught wind of the situation, camped outside the hospital as security tried to restrain them. When it’s time to leave, Emerson’s bodyguard escorts her and Tayla through the underground entrance and into a black tinted SUV. Wesley decides to jump in with them, much to my annoyance, and I follow the car alone and still reeling from what’s happened.
Outside Emerson and Wesley’s apartment, the paparazzi are stationed with their cameras. When the cars pull up, the frenzy begins. The cameras are out snapping away, journalists running across the street knocking on the glass window of the car screaming out personal questions. I thought I could get away with driving behind them, but soon the attention diverts to my window.
“Is it true you and Emerson Chase are having an affair?”
“Will you leave the Royal Kings to move back to the States to be with her?”
“Is Emerson Chase pregnant with your baby, or is it Wesley Rich’s?”
The window is wound up, with my focus on the garage door opening. When both cars are parked, Jimmy yells at all of them to back the hell off as it’s private property. They reluctantly do so, retreating to their spots across the street and waiting for any activity which will give them the scoop they need.
I follow them upstairs and into the apartment, suddenly realizing how familiar this place feels. Then, I remember, watching all three seasons of the show they were often filmed in this apartment.
This is their home.
Everything looks exactly as it does on the screen, although slightly bigger.
It doesn’t feel right being here, it’s a wake-up call of the life Emerson lives without me. This is her world. A world built on lies, deceit, and fame.
Emerson disappears with Tayla to the bedroom, shutting the door behind them.
Wesley’s less accommodating, ignoring my presence and disappearing to another room.
Walking to the balcony, I open the door and step outside. The sun’s about to rise, and with the exhaustion hitting me fiercely, I sit on the wicker chair and close my eyes.
I’ve been to hell and back since Emerson left me at the restaurant.
No matter what I do or try, I can’t erase her from my thoughts.
***
I isolated myself from Ash, spending countless hours watching Emerson’s every move through various social media accounts. For days, I’d call her every thirty minutes, greeted with nothing but an empty line. The desperation consumed me to the point that I’d contacted Wesley and offered him cash in exchange for walking away. It was a massive risk sending a text message that could ruin my career but I no longer cared. I need her and that was that.
He agreed but on one condition. He’d go on his trip to Cabo and if he came back and Emerson still wanted out, he’d accept the money and leave her alone. I agreed because I had no choice as I was clutching at straws and anxious to have her all to myself.
The jerk posting on Instagram had me reeling. I was fucking stupid and didn’t think straight. Scared she’d run back to him, my insecurity ate at me despite my phone ringing regularly with ex-lovers trying to hook up. It meant nothing since the girl who consumed me wanted nothing to do with me.
Then in walked Louisa.
She wanted what Ash had warned me about—to get back together. I hated that I thought about it for just a moment, it seemed easy and a ticket out of this drama.
But she isn’t Emerson.
Everything about Louisa was wrong. I didn’t have to tell her I was in love with someone else. My body language said it all being so withdrawn and closed in. It was enough for her to walk away with a bruised ego.
My eyes open wide with the sun shining against my skin. There are voices inside the apartment—sounds like Chris and Abbi have arrived.
This is it.
The cat’s out of the bag, and either this makes or breaks us.
Abbi’s sitting on the sofa, twisting her hands and staring at the shaggy rug. She’s quiet and withdrawn, not even acknowledging Emerson’s presence.
Chris is the exact opposite. Pacing up and down while mumbling to himself—the same thing he does when watching our games—and stops mid-step to spin and face all of us. “I want the full story,” he demands, glowering with a stiff pose. “Tell me what the hell happened tonight.”
“We went out, Dad,” Emerson says quietly. “I was watching her, they were sitting on the sand having fun. Another girl thought it would be fun to go for a swim, but she got swept out. Tayla tried to save her.”
“And you didn’t think to warn your sister to not go in?” he questions anxiously.
“I was… um… busy.”
“You were busy?”
“It doesn’t explain why you’re here.” Chris points to me rudely. “You should be in England training for the goddamn game tomorrow. This makes no sense to me.”
“It makes perfect sense,” Abbi speaks up calmly, still avoiding eye contact with everyone. “We’ve been lied to, Chris.”
“Mom, I’m sorry but—”
“Emerson. I didn’t raise you this way,” Abbi begins, then stalls, a look of discontent spreading across her tired face. “I’m disappointed in both of you. After what happened with Ashley, I thought you knew how I felt about secrets in our family. What did you think I would honestly say to you?”
“It’s my fault,” Wesley jumps in, quick to defend her. “Things got out of hand in Amsterdam, and I let it ruin our relationship. Just don’t blame, Em. Everything she’s done is out of revenge against me, not you.”
I remain tight-lipped. Angry we’re even here. All of this could have been avoided if she’d simply fucking left him. He’s the reason we’re here. His fucking dick running loose with whores. Yet, if he didn’t hurt her to begin with you wouldn’t have realized that the person in front of you is the only woman you want to be with.
“And you?” Chris points again at me. “I still don’t get why you’re here.”
“Chris,” Abbi raises her voice in frustration. “They’re sleeping together.”
“Who?”
“Emerson and Logan.”
Emerson keeps her head low, then raises it to meet mine with a tear falling down her exhausted face. Wesley moves over to where she sits, comforting her as I stand watching, wondering why the fuck I’m allowing any of this. His hands are all over her again. My anger paralyzes me, my emotions wild and out of control.