Win a Filthy Bad Boy: A Bad Boy Romance

by Lacy Carter

  “I'm confused. Is it because I offered you a bottle of whiskey last night? Or because I came inside you? I don't get it. You're mad at me because…?” He quirked an eyebrow at her.

  “You're crude. And inconsiderate. Even if I hadn’t wanted a condom…”

  “I like idea of people thinking we’re couple. You look good by my side.”

  “I don't intend to be seen with you again,” Bonnie said, dismissing thoughts of the cocktail party she had to attend.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So what about the party?” It came as no surprise to Chad that his grin was making matters worse, but he couldn't help himself. “I made sure YOU and only you could attend.”

  “I can't believe… you're just…” Bonnie shook her head. He was the reason Al had forced her to go.

  “Well at least you never denied that you'd look good by my side.” Chad stroked her shoulder. “The cute way you're blushing tells me you've thought about us. Maybe more than you're letting on.”

  “In your dreams.” She slapped his hand away.

  “Come, don't act like I’m crazy. You've attacked me out of nowhere. If anything, I think you’re going to miss me. Miss the feeling of me inside you, my arms around you.”

  “Fat chance of that happening again,” Bonnie said.

  “I don't know…” Chad leaned in and kissed her neck.

  Bonnie grabbed the bottle and tipped it, pouring the rest of the whiskey on his head. Then she opened the door and walked out.

  “Where are you going?” Chad called, getting out of the car.

  “If you're going to be immature, I'll walk,” Bonnie said as she marched away.

  “Wait up.” Chad caught up to her and stood in her path. The contents from the whiskey bottle streamed down his face. He lifted his top to wipe it, revealing his chiseled abs. “You have miles to walk. Why don't you get in the car?”

  Bonnie seethed and didn't know why. It was just him. His abs, tattoos, his attitude. Every part of him got to her.

  “No more pushing. Promise,” Chad said.

  They got back into the car and continued the drive. Bonnie gave into fatigue and closed her eyes. Meanwhile, Chad's cell kept him occupied.

  The moment the car stopped moving, Bonnie's eyes flew open. She squinted against the wash of the sun.

  “Wake up, sweetheart, we’re back.” Chad's deep voice floated to her.

  “Oh,” Bonnie said, still not fully awake. “Thanks.” The blurry outline of Chad went from dot pixel patterns to full HD.

  “You alright?” he asked. Unable to keep his hands off her, Chad reached out to remove a strand of hair from her shoulder, and in the process he grazed her bare skin.

  Bonnie inhaled. She straightened up her dress and failed to meet his eyes. Opening the car door, she looked at Chad. He sat with his arms resting on the steering wheel and he slipped his sunglasses on.

  “Aren't you coming?” Bonnie asked.

  “No can do,” Chad said. “I've got a meeting in Beverly Hills.”

  “About what happened back there, you know, my freaking out,” Bonnie said, as she rubbed her arm.

  “Hey, I'm partially to blame for goading you. You're so cute when you're mad. I can't help it.” Chad winked. “I’m heading to my private jet in an hour—”

  “You're seriously not coming to this party?” Bonnie heart sank.

  “Nah,” Chad said.

  “Oh.” Bonnie thought she sounded pathetic. She needed to touch something real to ease the feeling that her time with Chad was pure fantasy.

  Then Chad said, “Do you want to get your things? I can wait for—”

  “Well well…” interrupted a familiar voice.

  Bonnie swirled to see Leslie storming their way. The expression she threw at Bonnie belonged among the list of most contemptuous scowls ever.

  “Leslie—” Bonnie said.

  “Save it.” Leslie faced away from her. “Chad, your behavior has really put me in dire straits.” She looked at Chad, her expression softened. “But it's typical. You like keeping your fans on edge I guess.”

  “Leslie, give me and Bonnie a moment. I want to—”

  “Why? The show's over… a controversial ending, but, remarkably, it was huge success. You don't need to act like you're into her anymore.”

  It wasn't merely Leslie’s words that infuriated Bonnie, but also the manner in which they were delivered. Leslie spoke as if Bonnie wasn't standing right next to her.

  You bitch, Bonnie thought.

  Chad's jaw clenched and he glared at Leslie.

  “I said, give us a—”

  “It's okay, Chad. The show is over…” Bonnie said. “What an ending, huh? Well, good luck with the rest of your career.” Without a second glance, Bonnie made her way back to the bar where they were holding the party.

  Chad sat, dumbfounded, and watched her leave.

  Chapter Seventeen

  A Real Man is Not Made of Steel

  By Bonnie Jensen

  I have now witnessed the savagely gorgeous gray eyes glimmer, much like the sucrose beaches with their bright blue water. I have now witnessed suntan lotion spread across the body that has magazines fawning over it, women discarding their dignity and men trying and, for the most part, failing to equal. I have witnessed his heartless cruelty as he sat back and grinned, as I (in the spirit of the cruise) joined the Conga line. He teased me. He taunted me. And he kissed me.

  I'll never forget when I first found out that I'd be on Win a Filthy Bad Boy.

  It was no coincidence that the news was accompanied by my choking on a breakfast bar. Both occurrences left speechless and wide eyed.

  Hearing that my contestant was an escort, it was only wise that I should research him. Until this time, I never cared about the subculture of followers Mr. Steel amassed...

  Bonnie stopped reading. She knew the rest; she wrote it and Al published it. It had been two weeks since the Caribbean Cruise, and she sat in a coffee shop and read the article on her computer.

  It had been two weeks since the finale of her season. Two weeks since Chad kissed her goodbye. Two weeks since Bonnie had the most amazing, wonderful and exciting experience of her life. And in the two weeks since, she had spent every waking moment thinking about him.

  ***

  “This could be the follow-up to the article, Jensen,” Al said. He leaned back in his chair, feet propped on his tabletop. His fingers formed a pyramid. “Your blog is getting a ton of hits; the article is being quoted everywhere. The disappearing act the two of you pulled, brilliant, two thumbs up. You're a star Jensen. And now you tell me you don't want to take the job.”

  “That's right,” Bonnie said. She sat forward in her chair. The events of the show had led to an explosion of speculation and gossip.

  “This could be an even bigger story.” Al said. “You'll be a megastar. So far, your readership is growing every…” he glanced at his watch, “…second.”

  “Hyperbole, Al?” Bonnie sighed. Despite her exhaustion, amusement tinged her words.

  “The two of you are the most talked about couple right now. You've stolen the spotlight from anything Jay-z and Beyoncé are doing. The journalist who finds skeletons in your closet will have blown the biggest scoop this side of Watergate.”

  “And you want to send me back out into the field?” Bonnie asked.

  “You're damn right! This is our story.”

  “If I’m even spotted a block away from where Chad is eating dinner, it’ll start a frenzy,” Bonnie said. “The world's suddenly filled with vultures. The irony.”

  “Bullshit. You're just the flavor of the month. But why shouldn’t we enjoy some of the publicity?”

  “So much so, Henry was on a talk-show. He's even started his own damn blog.”

  “I've read it. Claptrap. Hardly worth skimming. Definitely not heavyweight material to jumpstart a career as a blogger, much less a journalist. Forget it, Jensen.”

  “This was
all supposed to be over with that last party. I can’t believe you’re making me go to one where Chad is actually going to show up.”

  “Just go and do what you do best: sniff around. See how he behaves. Maybe you can exaggerate a romantic interaction or something. Just go out there and be you.”

  “Fine,” she huffed.

  Bonnie got up just as Al’s phone started ringing. He told her to take the rest of the day off; it was lunchtime and all Bonnie wanted was a glass of wine and a double fudge sundae. Bonnie opened the door and stepped out into the office space.

  Just go out there and be you.

  Closing the door quietly, Bonnie sidled out of Al’s office, contemplating how hard it was to just go out there and be you, with her immediate and stratospheric fame. She slipped on her glasses and adorned her headscarf. After the show, Bonnie understood she had some measure of fame, but failed at recognizing the full extent of her celebrity, until recently, when people pointed in her direction as she exited the subway on her way into work.

  For the past few weeks, websites and media outlets discussed and debated what might or might not have happened when she and Chad disappeared on the final episode to Win a Filthy Bad Boy. The initial uproar from fans who felt cheated out of a conclusion to Chad’s and Bonnie’s relationship simmered down to imaginative speculations and conspiracy theories. Chad's loyal fans hadn’t bothered to hide their abhorrence and jealousy toward her, which took the form of the occasional hate mail delivered to The Daily Journal. Counteracting the hate, she received mail from emerging groups of women, particular a club that called themselves “The Triple C,” for “cute, curves for Chad,” who stood by the argument that they shouldn't be on a waiting list because Chad had a weakness for full-figured girls.

  The instant she got away from Chad, she experienced a throng of cameras, hollered questions, and aimed microphones. She avoided attempts to describe the salacious details of her private life or her past. Guys claiming to be her ex-boyfriends showed up out of the blue and her family was hounded by reporters for days on end.

  Any way you sliced it, Bonnie Jensen was famous, and her preciously guarded privacy was now at stake. Her nerves were shot, between eager journalists, coworkers trying to tease out Chad gossip, and soul-sucking regret.

  Dropping her head low, she crept through the office. Her first day back at work was rough. She didn't have the emotional wherewithal to survive another onslaught of questions from Dawn and Trisha. When Mia, of all people, joined the fray, Bonnie knew it wasn’t even safe to be at work.

  Her coworkers had a habit of making her stutter mid-sentence by asking the most embarrassing and blush-inducing questions. Getting to work and sitting through an inquisition had now become so difficult, it boarded on funny. The mere mention of Chad created an uncontrollable excitement in the office.

  As she walked out, Bonnie picked up the pace to avoid the restless eyes of Dawn, who sat on the phone.

  “Off to lunch?” Trisha who was on reception, peered over thin bifocals, the silver-haired woman eyed her quizzically. “Not your usual lunch hour. Going meet someone?”

  “I'm going home for the day.”

  “Well, I'm lunching in the cafeteria in five; do you want to talk about the show?”

  “Sorry, honey, next time. I promise,” Bonnie said. Trisha turned back to her computer and said she'd hold her to that promise.

  Just as she reached the elevator, a voice harrumphed at her back and caused her to jump. When she turned to see Johnny, Bonnie sighed in relief.

  “You're in today?” Johnny threw his arm Bonnie's neck. “You never bothered to come and say hi? Typical celeb.”

  Bonnie rolled her eyes. “Yeah right, and hating every second of it.”

  “Well, I didn't know if Chad stole you and sailed with you into the sunset already,” Johnny said with a smile.

  “No chance of that happening, I haven't seen hide nor hare of him since the show.”

  “Typical. Another opportunistic asshole. Anywho… where are you scurrying off to in a hurry?”

  “Al said to take the day off—”

  “Great, how about we do lunch? You've been back for weeks now and I haven't been able to get hold of you.”

  “Yeah, well I had to turn my cell off. It was either that or change my number.”

  “They've been that bad, huh?”

  “Yup. I’ve been called by just about every agent around, magazines have been hounding me for interviews, and don't get me started on the creeps who call and describe what they want to do to me.” Bonnie groaned in a voice that sounded like the voice of death.

  “Right. I'm buying you lunch. We can talk about whatever you want and I'm not taking no for an answer.”

  ***

  Johnny ran a hand through his air and exhaled sharply. “You can't be serious.”

  “I don't even care about the Stephanie Stein story.” Bonnie was suddenly very tired. She hadn't gotten much sleep lately and a nap was calling her name.

  The café wasn't crowded. It was always quiet, which worked for Bonnie. Johnny sneeringly remarked that it was free of hipsters because it was so mundane. It differed from the other downtown restaurants by trying not to standout and instead trying to fit it.

  “You wanted it for all this time, you finally got it, now you don't want it?”

  “That about sums it,” Bonnie mumbled incoherently. Her attention drifted away from her glass of Shiraz and Margherita pizza, which did nothing to assuage the rising anxiety inside her. Her mind was a flurry of upheaval.

  “Like… damn Bonnie.”

  “I got a taste of what Stephanie must have gone through. I don't see any sense in prying into her life anymore than the media already have. She's doesn't want to talk to the media. I want to respect her wish.”

  Johnny nodded. “So are you still covering that party the network is throwing for Chad?”

  “Yeah, it was a favor for Al. Don’t you have to get back to the office?” Bonnie asked.

  “Nah, I'll stay a little longer,” Johnny said, after checking his watch.

  “Wait. I forgot. There's no way Al would fry your ass since you’re his special guy.”

  “Come on, stop. Al treats me the same as everybody else.”

  “Seriously, you must be blind.” Bonnie raised an eyebrow. “You ever wonder why you don't catch heat from Al whenever you fuck up?”

  “Whatever you say,” Johnny muttered and waved away her comment, dismissively. “Keep your sassy comments to yourself. And why is your phone still off? Try turning it on, Bonnie.”

  Bonnie could tell that up to this point, Johnny hadn't thought of the reason why Al treated him differently. As Johnny's eyes darted from side-to-side, Bonnie could see the cogs turning in his head.

  Johnny finished the last of his pizza before the chime of his phone sounded. He held a finger in the air for Bonnie and whipped the phone to his ear. He listened to the caller, then he pulled the phone away from his ear and addressed Bonnie.

  "Sorry, but I have to take this.” He rose and walked towards the lobby area.

  Bonnie finally gave up and turned on her phone. There were twenty-five miss calls and twenty texts. She wanted to search to see if Chad had tried to get in touch with her. She began to scroll down through the list of missed calls.

  “So what’s next for you?” Johnny asked, startling Bonnie.

  Without a second glance at her messages, Bonnie deleted everything in her inbox.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Our last date, she threw a glass of champagne in my face. And she called me a pig; can you believe that?” Dean asked.

  "You know, for some strange reason, I can,” Chad said as Bobby laughed.

  “Yeah, like that hasn't happened before,” Bobby said, causally. “She's just another notch on your bedpost, man.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” Dean said. But a frown marred his face. “The thing is, she doesn't give a damn about money. Maybe because she's a financial analyst. But I don't know.
She’s just different somehow.”

  “Yeah, she doesn’t seem to put up with your shit,” Bobby said. “Maybe she is different.”

  Dean let out a curse and sighed in disgust. They had come to New York to meet personally with Sam Sheldon, one of the wealthiest men in the world and a potential investor in their business.