by Kat T. Masen
“Must be a special occasion.”
“Just a party at Scarlett’s house. Did I tell you Ash and Logan are coming?”
I hear the pause, followed by the sound of the oven timer chiming in the background.
“Your brother will be the death of me. Did I tell you that I had a lengthy conversation with Alessandra or how he likes to call her—Sandy?”
“Was it over the wet towels on the bed?” I cringe, my brother is a slob. “Or how he picked his toenail in bed?”
“It was over them having an argument when he left. It seems that she doesn’t understand his lifestyle. The traveling part. I tried to explain it without getting involved. The last thing I want to be known as is the nosey mother-in-law.”
“How about the mother-in-law that writes about cowboys getting it on in the barn with the farmer’s wife?”
“You laugh now but that bestseller paid for your ballet lessons which you gave up after one recital,” she points out.
“Yeah, yeah. Thanks Mom,” I tease gently. “Listen, I have to go. Wish me luck.”
“Luck?” she questions. “With what kid?”
Darn it. I hadn’t been honest with Mom about what happened with Wesley. Every time she would bring him up, I would quickly answer then steer the conversation onto a different subject. I don’t know why I struggled with it, usually I would tell her everything. A part of me believed that if I told her the truth, it would make it harder to live a lie in front of the cameras.
“Things have been difficult between me and Wesley. I just hope tonight we can relax,” I half admit.
“I figured that,” she soothes over the phone. “I’m here kid. No judgment. Okay?”
“I know, Mom.”
We hang up the call and I feel a bit better about how I left things with us. With my shoes on, I slip into my dress when Wesley walks in. He knew better than to walk in unannounced but disregarded my wishes, standing behind me wearing his designer jeans and dark grey shirt with his sleeves rolled up.
I hated that a part of me still desired him. The part that remained confused and hurt by his actions. If only his hands hadn’t touched someone else. If only he didn’t think that destroying our relationship was okay.
Taking a deep breath in, I turn around while placing my earrings on.
“You look good,” he says, adjusting his cuffs.
“Thank you. So do you, I guess.”
“You guess?” He places his hand on his heart, making a pained face with a smile. “Ouch. Okay, I deserve that.”
“You deserve a lot of things.”
“And not you, right?”
“You know where I stand with our relationship.”
Wes bows his head, then lifts it again only for his eyes to meet mine—full of desperation.
“It’s been weeks Em, and the only time you let me touch you is when we’re filming. Don’t you understand how sorry I am? I’d do anything to take it back but I just can’t okay?”
“This isn’t the time to talk about it. The limo should be downstairs waiting and I forgot to tell you that Ash and Logan are coming. We’ll pick them up,” I say quickly, grabbing my purse and checking my hair one more time, avoiding his apology.
It was an awkward limo ride over to Scarlett’s house. I finally introduced Wesley to Logan and almost instantly, there was this weird tension. Thank god that Ash talked about his restroom mayhem the entire ride over.
“Are you sure you didn’t order a different curry to mine?”
“Positive.”
“And you didn’t go to the bathroom once?”
“Nope. Iron stomach.”
“I just don’t get it.” He shakes his head.
“So, why are you both in town?” Wes places his hand on my knee, a gesture that wouldn’t normally bother me but right now, it does.
There’s a visible flush in Logan’s cheeks; his eyes following the movement of Wes’s hand as they rest on top of my knee. With his mouth turned down, he speaks through clenched teeth. “We’re trying out for the US soccer team.”
“Nice.”
I wanted to strangle Wes for being a stuck-up, arrogant jerk.
The rest of the ride was uneventful. We carried on with some small talk about the latest movies out and who would be at the party. Ash kept the conversation rolling, talking non-stop just so the tumbleweed wouldn’t roll past. I knew how he felt about Wesley but he was never one to keep his mouth shut.
Ash switches topic to the relief of Wesley who looked bored with the conversation. “So, I guess I forgot to say congratulations. You know with the engagement.”
Wesley keeps his smile fixed, not letting on that we weren’t together. He slides his hand above my knee until it’s resting on my hemline. I wriggle to move it away, only for him to grip tight.
“Thank you. Your sister is quite the catch.”
“Just take care of her or else you’ve got me and Logan to answer to,” Ash warns him in a serious tone.
“Right. Of course. I would never do anything to hurt her.”
Wesley places his arm around me, moving my hair to the side and kissing the crook of my neck. Across from where we sat, Logan looks at me with a deep curiosity. No other emotion on his face aside from that. His muscles are flexed underneath the navy short-sleeved shirt he wore; his fingers tapping impatiently on the headrest beside him. His expression turns to boredom; staring out the window uninterested.
“We’re here,” I announce with relief.
Scarlett’s mansion is just above the hill. A large, modern home hidden behind many trees to keep the property private. In the last few years, any movie she starred in became blockbuster hits. The tabloids were forever in a frenzy over her love life. She had apparently dated actors and funnily enough, our friendship began when she was rumoured to be dating Wes.
Stories like that never fazed me, so when I ran into her during a red-carpet event, we had a good old laugh and ended the rumor right there.
Scarlett is the most wanted woman in the industry. She’s barely in town but when she had some downtime, we would catch up for dinner or drinks. I admired her ability to juggle it all; often seeking guidance in how to cope with this demanding lifestyle we call showbiz.
There is a small booth at the bottom of the driveway with two security guards checking the guests’ names off on the list. Our limo drives through and up the steep hill till we stop in front of the house. I couldn’t have been more grateful. There was way too much testosterone in the car and I was desperate to get out.
Our regular camera crew were already positioned out front. Scarlett permitted the network to use footage for the show providing she saw the final edit. She told them that they could only film in the foyer, living room, and outdoor area, where most guests congregated.
“Okay guys, we need you to walk into the house. We’ll film you entering from here.” Josie points to the statue that sat out front. “Then Karl will come in from the right.”
Ash waves goodbye, heading into the house with Logan beside him. I wait for Logan to turn around but he doesn’t—looking eager to join Ash and the loud music streaming from the house.
I take a deep breath while waiting for Josie to hook me up with the mic. She clips it on and tucks the rest of the unit into the back of my dress then does the same to Wes. I try to keep my shoulders poised as Wes holds my hand while walking into the foyer.
“Emerson!” Scarlett yells from the top of the stairs. She walks down, wearing nine-inch gold heels looking absolutely stunning in a white jumpsuit. Taking each step slow, she finally hits the bottom level and greets me with a double air kiss before leaning over to Wes and doing the same, careful not to smudge her signature red lipstick.
“I’m glad you guys made it.” She walks us outside, linking her arms between ours. “Drinks are outside, make yourself comfortable, and please excuse the hoard of Playboy bunnies that somehow got invited to the party.”
It wasn’t difficult to find them. You only had to look
at every man and where their eyes were directed to spot them huddled in the corner—fake boobies in tow. Wesley laughs, making some joke about how many blondes does it take to change a light bulb. I wasn’t listening to his answer; my eye moving around the room until I find the only male not staring at them, rather staring at me—Logan.
I want to go talk to him, but Wesley pulls me to the direction of the bar. He orders some drinks then gets distracted talking to some friends of his. Thankfully, Scarlett is beside me and ushers me to the table that sits by the pool.
“Okay, so we want you to talk about what’s been happening in your lives.” Josie lowers the camera, adjusting the lens and zooming in to where we sat. “Scarlett, can you please move a little bit back?”
Scarlett adjusts her seats as per Josie’s direction. Josie turns the camera on while I pretend she’s not there, jumping straight into conversation.
“So, I’ve been offered a deal to expand the fitness line to Europe,” I tell her, proudly.
“Em! That’s great. Does that mean you’ll be spending time there?”
“Umm, not too much time. I’d be lonely, my family is back here.”
“Speaking of family. Ash and Logan are quite something.” She grins.
“Something as in talented?”
“Logan Carrington,” she mouths slowly with a smirk. “Mister Sports Illustrated.”
I don’t know how we got onto this topic so quickly and I hated being filmed while talking about Logan.
“And Ash modeling those sports boxers for Adidas . . . how do you sleep at night?”
“Well,” I say with a mouthful of champagne. “Usually great but maybe not so much tonight since you brought up my brother in underwear.”
“Oh, I get it. But Em . . . your brother is sexy.”
I scrunch my face, disgusted by her comment. I had heard many women talking about Ash like a sex object and it got grosser every time.
“Okay, sorry.” She raises her hand laughing. “And Logan? Is he seeing anyone?”
I shake my head instantly. “I don’t know. You’d have to ask him that. Soccer players talk about one thing only—the game.”
I’m well-aware of the pang of jealousy that hits me. For all I knew, he could be dating someone and all these flirtatious back-and-forths were just to fill in the time. I scan my brain to find another topic to talk about, quick to change the subject onto her latest movie.
“I can’t believe you’re filming in Australia next month. I’d love to go and visit.”
“I’m excited. We’re filming for three months in Sydney. I need to find me an Aussie husband.” She sighs.
“Oh . . . that would be nice.” I smile.
“I love their accents.”
“And the way they call everyone mate.”
“So easygoing,” she says dreamily. “Like ‘hey, there’s a spider, no worries mate.”
“You lost me at spider,” I tell her, with a shake in my voice. “I’ll take my American boy.”
“Your American boy, of course. Wesley Rich.”
Josie stops filming, telling the both of us to relax while she joins Karl for a short break. As soon as she leaves the area, I finally chill with some more champagne and some other actors that join us.
After my third round of drinks, my voice became louder as we fought to be heard over the music. With the sudden urge to pee, I remove my mic and tell Scarlett I’ll be back.
I somehow stumble my way to the bathroom, waiting in line and chatting with a few people. When I finish using the restroom, my vision becomes hazy and I forget which way I had to go.
“Jesus, can’t take you anywhere.”
I hear his voice but cannot see him. When I turn around, he is standing right behind me.
“Oh, there you are—Mr Hussy,” I tease, placing my hands on his chest for support. “Let me guess. You screwed a Playboy bunny already. Wait . . . maybe two.”
“You’re drunk.”
“I’m right.”
“I don’t like blondes or fake tits.”
“That’s not what your mom said.”
“What?” he asks in confusion.
“I don’t know,” I mutter. “I had nothing to come back with.”
“That’s not exactly a mom joke,” he chastises. “Stop drinking, okay? It’s like you’re nervous or something. In the limo, you were all weird.”
“No, you were all weird!”
“Wait.” He pauses with a smile. “Another non-comeback?”
“Logan,” I say in a soft voice, suddenly tired. “I just needed an escape from reality. Three shots and I’m almost there.”
He moves his head left then right, scanning the area then dragging me to a quieter section away from the bathroom. I notice his eyes look slightly red; tired and maybe from the shots the Playboy bunnies made him drink. “Are you drunk?”
“I had a few. Not as much as you. I thought you told Ash you were laying off the drink because the tabloids said you had a drinking problem?”
“Geez.” I lean on the wall, rolling my eyes at him. “Does Ash tell you everything? Don’t you have something better to talk about than me? What else does he tell you?”
“I don’t know.” He keeps his expression blank. “Are you hiding something?”
“Nope.” I hold his gaze. “I’ve pretty much told you everything. Wesley screwed some hookers, we’re pretending to be engaged for the sake of the show, and when I was eleven, I was the one that accidently threw your ball over the school fence which got eaten by that psycho dog.”
Logan stares back in astonishment. “That ball was signed by a soccer legend and you threw it over the fence?”
I lean in, playing with the lapel of his shirt, and sweetening my tone. “Accidently.”
“How do you accidently throw it over?”
With a pleasing smile, I alter my story to ease his pain. “My arm kinda slipped. Over instead of under.”
“You owe me,” he threatens.
“Yeah, add it to the list—buddy.”
“Buddy?” He raises his brow with a smirk. “I thought we had a deal.”
Lowering my head—to hide my grin—I cross my legs to ignore the delicious throb that began the moment he pulled me aside. Our petty arguments riled me up and now resulted in this—me wanting his tongue to run along the inside of my thigh.
You did not just say that out loud.
Shit!
No, wait . . . his face remains the same.
Stupid champagne.
During my internal argument with my brain, Logan has closed the gap between us.
“The cameras have been following you all night,” Logan whispers courageously in my ear. “How will I get to prove my point?”
This is it. There is no cell between us to filter out the raging hormones. My body is betraying me, calling out like a desperate whore. My brain is slower to come to the party, chilling in a hot tub telling all the rational voices to sit down and have another drink.
“You know Karl? He’s easily distracted by good-looking men. Closet gay. When a model walks past him, he’ll forget I’m around. He chases dick like I chase chocolate.”
Logan is amused, shaking his head at my comment. “So, what happens if you want dick and chocolate?”
“I’ve never been in that predicament,” I answer smugly. “Why? You got chocolate on you?”
“Are you saying you want dick and chocolate right now?”
“How did we even get onto this?” I scratch my head, ignoring his cocky remark.
“Nice segue, Chase,” he says with a broad grin. “What about your other camerawoman?”
“Josie? She likes to talk. About her cats and her new boyfriend. He just moved in and told her that he never expected to be around so many pussies.”
I laugh instantly, remembering the moment Josie had innocently told us he said that. I swear she was a virgin because the joke flew over her head.
Logan tries to keep a straight face, until something changes
and his smile becomes a frown.
“And Wesley?”
“What does it matter?”
“He’s your fiancé,” he states, dragging the word fiancé like it fucking meant something.
“I told you. He isn’t,” I tell him for the millionth time. “You’ve got a choice Carrington—prove your point or go run off with Ash and score some Hollywood bimbo looking to put an athlete on their resume.”
He keeps his eye contact firm, then slowly, they move and trace my mouth. I couldn’t help but bite my bottom lip, attempting to control whatever the hell is happening between us right now. I’m semi-conscious that anyone could find us including Wesley. But deep down inside, that possibility only adds to the thrill.
“C’mon,” I push him. “What’s it gonna be?”
He places his finger on my lips, lingering, then runs it slowly down my body, against my skin and between my breasts. I’m certain he can feel the thump of my heart; almost bursting out of my chest from the nerves of being caught. He continues to move down, until his finger has grazed in between my legs causing me to suck in my breath.
“You,” he whispers with fire in his eyes. “I choose you.”
“The thrill of getting caught is a dangerous thing.”
~ Emerson Chase
He presses his finger hard against my clit, only the thin fabric between.
I’m still holding in that breath, scared if I let go, my legs will fail and I’ll drop to my knees which happen to be at eye level with his crotch.
Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.
“Emerson!” I hear my name being called, and like cold water thrown at us, Logan retracts his hands and shoves them in his pocket.
Scarlett turns the corner, looking rather flustered. “We need to talk.”
She realizes that I’m standing with Logan; quick to notice no one else around us. I could see her mind turning, wondering what is going on and why the both of us look suspicious.
“I’m sorry. Did I interrupt something?” She hides her smile, eyeing me with curiosity.
“Nope,” I say casually. “Logan asked for a room so he can screw a bunny.”
“Wow, talk about throwing me under the bus, Chase,” he notes with dark amusement. “Excuse her. She’s chasing dick and chocolate.”