Dirty Bad Boys Box Set: Forbidden Romance Collection

by Kat T. Masen

  Wesley: And while you’re sitting there with a confused look on your face trying to understand what I just said, your ass is a turn on.

  I’ll see you next Friday.

  I throw my cell on top of my bag, letting out a huff which wakes the girls up. They both comment on how fantastic it was to nap without children, and how refreshed they are after only thirty minutes.

  “Oh, Milana, you look red,” Emerson scowls, touching my face with her fingertip.

  I want to tell her that her ex-fiancé knows how to push buttons when he wants, and perhaps the red face is from anger, not heatstroke.

  “I should probably go, my skin is so Alaskan that I worry I’ll prune into a ball of sunburn.”

  “You can borrow my hat?”

  I laugh. “I’ll pass. I may not be the next fashionista, but that hat is awful.”

  We all giggle, and with quick goodbyes, I make my way home.

  Back at home, it doesn’t take long for Joe, our resident drunk, to comment on my appearance or even Mrs. Jones from apartment 2B. She has a remedy for sunburn because her ex-husband is as pale as you could get. I politely tell her that I may drop by later, slowly walking up the narrow stairwell toward our apartment. Even my bag on my shoulder begins to hurt.

  As I turn the corner around the banister, I stand back in shock, staring at a body slumped against my door. The lighting is poor in the dark corridor, and the closer I move, his face begins to take shape.

  I take a deep breath with fear and comfort.

  “You’re here.”

  I’m sure how to react. We were just on the phone, and he was there, and I was here.

  “Hello,” I croak.

  He stands up, practically throwing himself at me and lifting me in his arms. Taking a step back, he’s quick to tell me he misses me, placing his lips onto mine. My mouth forces open, welcoming his familiar taste as he presses against me, hard and full of passion.

  Pulling back, slightly, I look deeply into his eyes.

  “I miss you, too…” I smile, a little forced. “Liam.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Can we go in?”

  I’m stuck in a daze, staring at him in complete shock. Though we just kissed, I’m without words, examining his profile and trying to allow this all to sink in.

  Liam is here.

  In Los Angeles.

  A place he despises without even having visited.

  He hasn’t changed much since I saw him over a month ago. His hair has grown slightly longer with drabby ends, yet still tied back away from his face. Most of the time he’s dressed in overalls, so the white tee and jeans are new. I recall our conversation at the beach earlier, chuckling to myself at the sight of him dressed this way.

  “Sorry, how rude of me.”

  “Milly, wait…” The palm of his hand grazes against my cheek, his lips meeting mine again, lingering with a soft suck of my bottom lip. Tearing away slowly, the angst builds up inside, my breathing hitches.

  “C’mon, let me show you around mi casa.”

  “Huh?”

  “My place.” I chuckle, opening the door to Flynn sitting on the couch with some friends. It’s the first time I have seen these guys—possibly band members—lounging all over the apartment with empty bottles of beer sitting on the coffee table. Two of them have guitars in their hands, one singing a tune, and Flynn tapping his drumsticks against the table.

  “Liam?” Flynn is equally surprised, standing up and grinning as he shakes Liam’s hand followed by that weird hug men do. “Milly didn’t say you were coming into town.”

  Liam grabs my hand, clutching it with pride. “Kinda surprised her. You know, when you miss your girl, you just gotta do what you just gotta do.”

  I’d never heard him refer to me as his girl, and I don’t mind it. Both of them, in this room, makes it feel like home. I can feel myself getting emotional, that same homesick feeling that took over my life the first two weeks here, reappears.

  The last two weeks have been different, though. Guess I was distracted.

  Flynn and Liam talk a little while longer, allowing me to slip into the bathroom and wash the sand off me and also to make an outfit change—my choice, nothing fancy—a coral-colored blouse that falls off my shoulders and some white shorts. Then, I realize how burned I am, and that color does nothing to hide it. I end up changing into something subtler.

  My hair—irritatingly long in this sticky heat—is whisked up into a bun and away from my face. I wear makeup most of the time but decide on some lip gloss since my face is bright pink and no amount of foundation will cover this.

  Back in the living room, the boys are still chatting away. I motion silently for Liam to follow me to my room, a gesture he notices, quickly wrapping up the conversation. Luckily, Flynn is distracted by his bandmates, allowing us some privacy.

  “Nice digs you’ve got here.”

  “Really?”

  “Okay, no. It’s nothing like back home. It actually makes back home look like a palace. I think I interrupted a drug deal downstairs,” he tells me, worried.

  “Oh, Frank? Yeah, he likes to smoke weed.”

  “Weed, huh?”

  “Oh, c’mon, Liam, people do this kinda stuff back home. We were just oblivious to it. It’s more in your face here.” I sit down on the edge of my bed, gazing as he stands against my door. “So, you’re here.”

  “I’m here.”

  “But you hate flying.”

  “You can’t hate something you’ve never done. It isn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”

  “Well, you’re alive.” I smile, playing nervously with my bedspread. “That’s a start.”

  “You’re burned.”

  “Really? I thought the tomato look was so in. I went to the beach today with Emerson and Charlie.”

  “Charlie?”

  “Emerson’s friend and lawyer. Remember, she’s one of the women on the panel who interviewed me. Not the bitchy one.”

  “Oh,” he breathes, almost a sigh of relief. “Charlie is a woman.”

  I laugh, scrunching my face. “Yes, she is. Would it have been different if she weren’t?”

  He shuffles his feet uncomfortably. “I’m starving.”

  “Me, too. There’s this awesome Chinese restaurant around the corner. They make the fortune cookies themselves, and I swear they print them out while they watch your every move.”

  “Sounds like a plan, but first…” He shuffles closer to me, standing in front, lowering his face so our noses touch. “Just one more kiss.”

  I pull his shirt, bridging the gap between us. I miss his scent—the way his skin smells like man sweat, how warm his lips feel against mine, and how my senses are heightened as he explores my body, hands moving into my blouse and against my breast.

  In a desperate attempt to ignore this niggly feeling I can’t quite pinpoint, I clasp my hand on his belt buckle and welcome a quick ‘hello’ before heading out to dinner.

  “Milly!” Flynn bangs loudly on the door, calling my name. “You wanna head out for something to eat?”

  It’s enough to kill the moment, the two of us pulling away with gentle laughter. I quickly fix my blouse as Liam adjusts his pants.

  “Let’s go before he goes on a hunger rampage.”

  We head into the living room, engaging in small chit-chat with the band and invite them out. They are keen, laughing like boys as we head out into the foyer in a group. I grab the keys and my cell off the table, following the boys outside. The second my foot is out the door, my body stops abruptly when my eyes meet Wesley’s.

  Fuck.

  I’m not one to be so vulgar with my vocabulary, but this is definitely a fuck moment. I can’t breathe, my chest is so tight. I’m pretty certain it’s going to cut off my airway and kill me right now.

  He’s standing against the banister, arms folded, staring at me with savage eyes. The bandmates continue to make noise down the stairwell as Flynn hollers something crude before yelling my
name.

  “C’mon, Mills, I’m fucking starving,” Flynn yells, bounding down the stairs, quickly looking at Wesley with confusion.

  “Um… hold on. I’ll follow you there.”

  Liam is waiting for me, watching the two of us back and forth. I’m not sure what to say. Okay, more like what the hell is happening?

  “Wesley, nice to see you.” My expression is professional, smile intact with a polite greeting. “This is Liam. We’re all heading out to dinner. Everyone’s starving, so I suggested the Chinese place around the corner. I tell you what, their Peking duck is mouthwatering…”

  My nervous ramble slows down as Wesley’s expression doesn’t change, he’s paralyzed with anger. He hasn’t moved an inch, nor said a word, standing eerily still in his designer ripped jeans, black tee, and Adidas sneakers. I hate that he looks so sexy.

  Liam extends his hand, waiting patiently for Wesley, who shakes it moments later. “So, you’re a friend of Milly’s.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Okay, so we better head off… unless you want to join us?”

  Wesley smirks, dismissing Liam’s respectful tone. A far cry from his jealous stance when I mentioned Charlie’s name earlier. “Sure, why not.”

  It’s the most awkward five-minute walk around the block. I spend most of the time staring at the pavement, occasionally engaging in idle chit-chat, and the moment I see the place, I breathe a huge sigh of relief, slipping inside to the table and sitting beside Flynn. Then, I realize it means Wesley and Liam will have to sit next to each other.

  With much reluctance, I swap seats so Liam’s next to Flynn, and I’m piggy in the middle.

  After a quick introduction between Flynn, the bandmates, and Wesley, we order food and throw ourselves into random conversations. Liam and Flynn talk about music and life back home, distracted as they reminisce about old times while Wesley sits in silence.

  I lean forward, playing with my napkin and whispering into the dessert menu that I purposely raise to cover my face. “You didn’t say you’d be back.”

  “It’s amazing what you can come back to without warning.”

  “Wesley…” I continue with a low voice, “… let me explain, later.”

  Mrs. Ling brings out the dishes, sizzling with steam coming off the plates. There’s the famous duck, egg rolls, classic orange chicken, and something that looks rather questionable.

  We each serve ourselves before Liam decides to open the conversation. “How do you know each other?”

  I’m quick to jump in, praying that Wesley doesn’t say anything about our encounters. “Work. Wesley and Emerson run a business, so we only hang out for business stuff.” The lie travels nicely and dissolves into my talk about Emerson’s new line until Wesley opens his mouth. “I wouldn’t say just business,” he mutters with a trace of sarcasm.

  “Hey, now I know where I’ve seen you from. You played guitar with Hanlon Marx.” Flynn is oblivious to the back-and-forth tension going on with a mouthful of duck and pointing his fork at Wesley.

  “You play guitar?” I ask rather loudly. “How did I not know that?”

  “I thought you said you only discuss business,” Liam voices with a jealous bite.

  I backtrack through my words, anxiety building from this awkward meal setting. “Yes, Wesley is in the media a fair bit, and I read an article on Emerson and um…”

  “Emerson and I were engaged,” Wesley adds with too much enjoyment. “A great woman.”

  Wait, Emerson is a great woman. Yes, she is.

  But what the hell was that?

  I feel my blood begin to boil, a raging fire threatening to burn any of my sensibility. I’m not dumb, aware this is some childish game to goad a reaction from me, but the temptation to bite back is too great to ignore.

  “Engaged to Emerson. Your boss, Emerson?” Liam asks, confused.

  “They were engaged, but Wesley screwed up, and now they’re not.” I dig into my chicken, trying to control my anger. “So, what do you need tonight, anyway? The contracts are signed, and there’s nothing left to do.”

  “Milana, you sound agitated. Did I say or do something?”

  I turn to face him, composing my jealousy as he gazes back with an irritating grin. The color of his eyes soften, if only for a moment, or perhaps that’s what I want to see.

  You don’t know what you want.

  “So, Liam, are you Milana’s boyfriend?”

  “Yes,” Liam answers, placing his arm around my chair, the same time I say, “No.”

  Liam diverts his attention to me.

  Shit, I don’t know what overcame me. The panic. Blame the panic.

  “Well, which one is it?” Wesley questions, leaning back and watching the two of us.

  “We dated back home. Liam surprised me today. It seems it’s a day of surprises.”

  “You guys have been together forever, you’re practically married,” Flynn blurts out, again, oblivious to the sound of Wesley’s teeth practically grinding from rage. “So, Liam, you moving out here?”

  “Not my kinda place.”

  “So, what is your kinda place? Hay, barn, cows greeting you in the morning while you milk them?” Wesley mocks, much to Liam’s and my annoyance.

  “Just don’t like this plastic lifestyle. Money-hungry creeps.”

  “Money-hungry creeps?” Wesley laughs, arrogantly. “Driven, smart people making a living.”

  Liam throws his napkin onto the table. “Yeah, that and dumbass actors.”

  “Okay, stop, the both of you. Who wants fortune cookies?” I wave Mrs. Ling over with desperation. She carries over a tray of cookies, and the moment the tray is in front of me, my grabby hands crack one open hoping for a miracle.

  Choose wisely. Your happiness depends on it.

  I look over at Mrs. Ling. She purposely turns away, dusting a shelf and ignoring the fact that she slipped that into mine. You don’t tamper with fortune, Mrs. Ling! I yell, internally.

  “Let’s get outta here. Where you staying, man?” Flynn asks Liam.

  “This place… not far from here.”

  “Why don’t you just crash at our place?”

  “Sure. Is that okay, Milly?”

  This is getting worse by the second. There is rock, a pile of shit, then me.

  Why is Flynn suggesting that in front of Wesley? How can my brother be that stupid?

  “Um… I guess it’s fine. I mean, yes. Don’t waste money staying somewhere. I need to get some fresh air. Are we done?” I don’t even wait for a response—throwing some cash onto the table which Wesley hands back to me as his Amex card makes an appearance—exiting the restaurant, desperate to breathe and release my tight chest. I begin walking, my name’s being called, but everything is a blur while I walk as if on auto-pilot.

  “Milly.” A tight grip holds me back. Liam is forcefully holding on, determined to get an answer. “Who is he?”

  “What?” I answer, distracted by a homeless man lying on the pavement.

  “Wesley,” he says in a harsh tone, gritting his teeth. “Did you sleep with him?”

  “No,” I defend myself, trying to explain without hurting him. “Liam, it’s not like that.”

  “Fuck, Milly!” he yells, letting me go, his hands tucked into his jeans pockets, and with anger fueled by jealousy, he paces back and forth with a heavy stomp. “I’m not fucking stupid. You barely call me anymore, and when we talk, you’re distant. You’ve changed.”

  “Of course, I’m distant. It’s difficult for me to be here.”

  “You’ve been here barely a month! It isn’t difficult. You’re managing to make friends, even male ones. Just tell me, are we over?”

  “Liam, we agreed when I came out here that our relationship would just see where it took us. No commitments.”

  “So, that’s how you justify fucking him?”

  Liam accusing me of sleeping with Wesley awakens a beast inside of me. I haven’t betrayed him, at least, our time apart was agreed upo
n. He has no clue how lonely I am and no compassion when it comes to me being away from Mama. His answer is to get married, pay for what I need, and keep me holed up in his parents’ basement.

  I don’t want that life.

  And I don’t want to continue holding onto something that doesn’t feel right.

  I love him, but it isn’t enough.

  “I’m not fucking him,” I yell back, lowering my voice when a woman turns around. “Stop doing this. Stop putting pressure on me. You don’t know what it’s like to be alone, to be responsible for my brother who spends his time out doing God knows what, to have family and friends back home and be so alone. I miss it so much it hurts. So, just stop—”

  “I’m going.”

  “Liam, please, I’m sorry.” My remorse kicks in—delayed—yet gut-wrenching at the same time. “Where are you going?”

  “I shouldn’t have come. Tell Flynn I said goodbye. Good luck, Milly.” Liam glances at me one more time, the skin around his eyes bunching up in a pained stare. “You want a bad boy? You’ve found your contender. Just don’t think I’ll be waiting and ready to save you. Been there, done that.” He finally walks away, leaving me alone on the street.

  I’m at a loss of what to do, begging the universe for some sort of sign.

  Do I run after him, tell him I’m sorry and try to mend what I’ve so foolishly broken?

  Or has the universe played its part—aligning the stars so Wesley and Liam would be at the same place, same time, forcing me to choose a hand?

  Maybe Mrs. Ling is right.

  I let him go, though it pains me. Forcing the bittersweet memories to fade away, if only for just this moment, and continue my journey, my purpose here, with one less person in my wings.

  Flynn and Wesley are nowhere to be seen, so I head back to the apartment, flinging myself onto my bed. It starts with one silent tear falling down my cheek as the salty liquid settles on my lips. But one tear becomes a stream, a constant flow of sadness for letting go of a man who did nothing wrong.

  He’s your textbook prince charming.

  But this just isn’t the right time.

  I fall asleep from the exhaustion, waking up in the dark to the sound of a car backfiring. It startles me, my heart pounding from the loud noise. I’m awake, at some god-awful hour, wishing the morning would come until the sound of heavy breathing distracts me.