Bad Boy Rich

by Kat T. Masen

  I didn’t appreciate him putting down Liam or making me feel stupid. Of course I knew how a relationship worked. Obviously, he didn’t.

  “Really? You want to talk about lying? Tell me, what meetings do you have scheduled for tomorrow?”

  “I don’t know, work stuff, probably.”

  I place my hands on my hips, shaking my head in disbelief. “Unbelievable, you’re going to lie to my face? We’ve been dating for like two minutes and already we’re arguing. I swear, Wesley, you’re so up-and-down you could be woman.”

  Wesley bows his head, running his hands through his hair again with frustration.

  “I didn’t think it was a big deal,” he says in a low tone.

  “Of course you didn’t.” I let out a frustrated sigh, my shoulders slumping from sheer exhaustion. “I don’t care what you think. I fell asleep tonight, in the car, tired as hell. I raced home, to shower then call you. Right now, I want to eat pizza and I want you to leave. No good will come of you staying here.”

  “Milana,” he calls my name softly, extending his hand to touch mine.

  I allow him to touch me, but just for a brief moment, scared he would consume me once again and any chance I had of surviving would be minimal.

  “Please, Wesley, go. Just for tonight, I need some space,” I beg of him.

  I stare at the floor for what seems like forever. His shoes make this squeaky sound against the wood, until the sound stops at my door. Wesley holds onto the doorknob, clearing his throat, lifting his head to meet mine. “Space is never a good thing. You have twenty-four hours.”

  I quirk my brows, glancing at him, confused by his ultimatum. “Twenty-four hours to do what?”

  “To do whatever it is you have to do to understand that you’re with me now. You’re my fucking girlfriend and that’s how it’s going to stay.”

  The door opens wide, and before he leaves the room I call for him to wait.

  “I don’t think so. You have twenty-four hours for you to decide whether it’s me or her.”

  I hated that I had bared my soul. Allowed him to see how jealous and vulnerable I was. The thing is, I had nothing against Emerson. What I did have was the underlying feeling that my connection to her, was somewhat an asset to him.

  And this would be the test.

  “Her?” he repeats, confused, inching his way closer to me.

  “Emerson,” I murmur.

  I bow my head in shame, hating myself for feeling this way. The warmth of his hand graces my chin, his footsteps towards me unheard. With a slight lift, our eyes meet. All I see is him, Wesley Rich, the man that made my heart thump like a crazed organ on steroids.

  The man that is so easily crawling under my skin, consuming me whole.

  “I don’t need twenty-four hours, or even a second. It’s you, okay? You’re the one I want.”

  I fight to hold back my smile, but his eyes dance with such passion that I struggle to do so, my mouth widening instantly.

  “Stay,” I beg, softly, tracing his bottom lip with my finger.

  “Here?”

  “Yes, here. Why? You afraid of my hood?”

  He exhales, with a grin. “Please, Joe loves me. I beat Clifford in backgammon earlier so now I’m his best friend.”

  “You beat Clifford in backgammon? No one has ever done that. He’s the streets’ legend. So many hidden talents, what else do you have up your sleeve?”

  His hands slide around my waist, bringing me close to him. I missed him, and it’s only been since the morning when he last touched me. The concept seemed crazy.

  “You really want to know?” He kisses me softly, rolling his tongue against mine, then sucking my bottom lip before pulling away. “How quiet can you be?”

  I giggle, softly. “How about some pizza first, I’m starving.”

  My stomach growls on cue, making Wesley laugh along with me.

  “I guess you need it. A marathon with Wesley Rich requires stamina.”

  I snuggle into his side, following him out of my room and into the living area. Kail is nowhere to be seen, Flynn briefly telling us that she was a no-go therefore he sent her home.

  Wesley snickers, encouraging the boy talk while I order pizza. By the time I come back from the kitchen, the two of them are playing some game on the PlayStation, ignoring my presence.

  “Sorry babe,” Wesley says, paying full attention to the screen with the remote in his hand and a character on the screen in some sort of battlefield. “Just after this level.”

  I let out a fake groan, but deep inside—I was happy.

  My brother and boyfriend becoming friends…there was no better sight than this.

  I had always considered myself an even-tempered person. I wasn’t one for drama, didn’t enjoy attention or had any need to be the focus in anyone’s life. I plodded along; worked different jobs to make ends meet and wasn’t one to have many aspirations. With no disrespect to Mom, I’d watch her do the same thing almost every day and there was nothing wrong with that in my opinion.

  Occasionally, someone in town had a bright idea to start a business, move away and the next minute—they’re front page on the local newspaper as our newest successful export.

  LA was completely different. People were itching to climb the ladder of success and after spending some time here, I had somewhat caught the success bug.

  Even with Wesley around, I still managed to work hard and make sure I was going above and beyond what Emerson needed. It was a juggling act at best. Wesley demanded attention. In his presence—it was all about him.

  Wesley left the apartment at the crack of dawn, telling me he wanted to hit the gym before heading to work. He kissed me goodbye, attempted a last-minute quickie in which he won. Then poof—he was gone.

  We didn’t get to talk much last night since most of the night was all about Flynn.

  I was certain they formed a bro-mance. I even overheard Wesley setting up some gig that Flynn could play at this super popular club.

  They talked about music, laughed about some show on MTV and despite my invisibility in the room—I was genuinely happy they got along so well. It was one less battle to fight and hopefully, Flynn could break the news to Mom and tell her how much of an awesome boyfriend Wesley is to make it easier on me when I dropped the bomb.

  He was awesome…except for when he got into a mood and acted like an overly hormonal teenager with a brooding face. And his obsession with my whereabouts and responding to his messages. Now that I think of it, it was borderline creepy.

  But the best-sex-you’ve-ever-had outweighs creepy by a longshot. This is what happens when your boyfriend is insanely sexy and has the stamina of a wild stallion. Your vagina becomes a bossy bitch and boy did she boss me around.

  Sitting at the dining table, I drink my coffee and answer some emails to distract myself from thinking about Wesley. I thought about Liam, and Phoebe. Contemplating texting the both of them just to say hello. A part of me missed them terribly, even Liam. And the other part of me told me to let them be—for now. If I wanted a chance to build my life here, I needed to distance myself from them and spend more time with Wesley and Flynn.

  And Wesley kept me busy.

  I remember how Liam and I would lie down on his bed for hours on end, watching shows or talking about random things. Wesley is the polar opposite. When he was with me—he kept me on my toes. Never a moment to stop and talk. It was unimaginable that something so simple could be so difficult.

  The coffee was not helping calm my anxiety. I decided to leave home early and get a start on the day and not remind myself for the hundredth time that Emerson and Wesley were meeting up around lunchtime.

  Their meeting would occur downtown. I didn’t ask much because the less I knew, the better. It didn’t stop me thinking about it and it wasn’t like me to be so obsessive over something, or should I say—someone.

  “Don’t you just love this fall line that Emerson will wear in New York?” Aurora hands me her iPad. The designs
were beautiful, long coats and earthtone colors. “I was also thinking about a line for you.”

  “For me?”

  “Yes. I mean, don’t get me wrong, you do have this eclectic style, very…what’s the word I’m looking for?” She brings her finger to her lip, tapping while thinking. Her eyes light up the moment it comes to her. “Retro!”

  “Um, thanks, I guess.” I smile politely, unsure if she was complimenting me or ridiculing me. “What were you thinking?”

  Aurora’s iPad was her life. She carried it around like a priest would carry a bible. It was even covered in a Louis Vuitton case which was specially designed for her.

  On the screen are some sketches and designs of dresses, different to what she showed me earlier for Emerson. I really liked what she had planned for me to wear—I just couldn’t afford to splurge on anything right now.

  “It’s really nice of you, Aurora. It’s just that, I can’t afford to spend money right now. Part of me working this job is to pay for my mom’s care.”

  She laughs, slapping my shoulder gently. “Don’t be silly. It’s part of your package. Didn’t Emerson tell you that?”

  I shake my head, distracted by my cell ringing. “Speak of the devil…”

  “Milana!” Emerson’s high-pitched voice barrels through the speaker, forcing me to distance my cell till the echoing stopped. “I need your help!”

  “Is everything okay?” I ask, worried.

  “Yes, no. I don’t know. Can you meet me in the office in twenty minutes?”

  “Of course. I’m only a few blocks away.”

  Emerson says goodbye, giving me no inkling as to what was happening. When Aurora asks what’s going on, I shrug, unsure of why Emerson sounded panicked. We part ways, Aurora heading to a fabric meeting and me to the office.

  It took me only ten minutes to get there, and thankfully I didn’t trip during my sprint to get to the office on time. I’m wearing my black pumps, the pointy ones that went with every outfit but were not designed for running, along with my A-line charcoal dress, coupled with a black patent belt. The dress—also not designed for running—bunches up around my waist which I fix in the elevator.

  My hair was braided back and away from my face. I thought long and hard about cutting it since the heat and long hair did not mix, wondering what Mom would think. It had always been her thing, and I’m not sure why it never bothered me so much until now.

  Jana—Emerson’s receptionist—tells me to head to the boardroom where Charlie is sitting, laptop in front and a stack of papers. She lifts her head to greet me, brushing her hair away from her face in annoyance.

  “Hi Milana. Glad you’re here early. We’ve got a lot to work on.”

  “Emerson told me to come straight away, but I have no clue what is—”

  Behind me, the sound of feet tap against the tiles. Charlie looks up, smiles quickly, though forced, and then stands, extending her hand. The hand reaches past me; manly, slight hair on the knuckles and fingers that have traced all over my body…

  Breathe.

  Repeat.

  Shit.

  “Charlie, always a pleasure.”

  Charlie ignores his comment, gesturing to me. “Milana, have you met Wesley, Emerson’s business partner? Oh wait a minute, you mentioned that you had.”

  I stand up, only having just sat down, and take the deepest of breaths as if I was preparing to sing at the opera, and finally—turn around.

  His eyes are dancing sinfully; the small smile that plays on his lips intending to make me quiver beneath my dress. The crisp white business shirt that sat beneath his navy suit is unbuttoned more so than usual, exposing his tanned chest. I could eat him whole. Stop, you need to act professional here.

  I extend my hand while keeping my eye contact simple. “Yes, we have met. Pleased to meet you again, Mr. Rich.”

  There is amusement in his eyes as I called him Mr. Rich, and I nervously pull my sweaty palm away and sit back down. Wesley walks around the table, positioning himself in front of me, placing his cell down.

  My notebook, sitting on the table, becomes my focus. I find myself doodling on the page knowing that he is watching me, then quickly write down some words to ‘pretend’ that the way he is staring at me is not affecting me whatsoever.

  “I’m here…I’m here.” Emerson runs through the door, closing it behind her. She takes a moment to catch her breath, saying hello to everyone. As she sits down, I examine her nice blouse. It’s off-the-shoulder; a style she always pulled off very nicely. Emerson had really nice shoulders, if that was such a thing. Tanned—though she admitted it was spray—and extremely fit. The shade of light blue suited her light-colored hair that was left out today. Sometimes, the shade looked blond, and other times, like now, it looked silver.

  Nevertheless, Emerson is very attractive and her sitting beside me had me questioning my confidence especially when she was Wesley’s ex-fiancée. I mean, he wanted to marry her. That had to count for something and they had this whole life planned out together.

  “Okay Charlie, give us the lowdown, please.”

  “Right, okay, so there’s a company in Greece, a rather large corporation selling counterfeit designs of your latest line.”

  “But how? We bought the patent rights to that dry-fit fabric?” Emerson questions, annoyed. “It would be illegal to reproduce or for our manufacturer to be supplying this to anyone else.”

  “We paid top dollar for these rights. Who are these people?” Wesley intercepts. “What kind of loss are we talking?”

  Charlie frowns, pushing a paper towards Wesley and Emerson. “I’m afraid we’re talking around two million.”

  “Two million dollars!” Wesley yells, agitated. “How the fuck was this not picked up earlier?”

  Emerson buries her head in her hands. “The finance department was reporting losses. We just narrowed it down to slow markets in Europe and with all the political changes being their focus.”

  “You were reporting losses but didn’t tell me?” Wesley fires back, clenching his fist that sits on the table, ready to pounce at any moment. The veins in his neck stood out; a trait I noticed each time he reacted this way in my presence.

  “Oh please,” Emerson argues with a ridiculed laugh. “You didn’t care what went on. Why the sudden interest in holding onto this venture? When we were together, you didn’t give a goddamn shit what I did. If it made you look good, that’s all you cared about.”

  “And if it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t be this successful. This brand took off because our name was worth something. You were the one that decided to end that.”

  “Because you were a cheating scumbag!” Emerson shouts back, much to my shock.

  “Really?” Wesley deadpans. “So how is Carrington? I hear the Brazilian ladies are loving him being in Brazil without you.”

  Emerson’s skin turns bright red; her lips stark white. Charlie shrugs at me, half-heartedly, before putting a stop to this madness.

  “We’re not here to discuss your past or any personal matters. So please, for the sake of me and Milana, let’s not get into it. Now, here’s what we need to do next.”

  It was clear the magnitude of the problem kept Charlie up all night. She handed Emerson and Wesley some legal documents, explaining to them her discussions with a close lawyer acquaintance in Europe and some laws that could potentially protect the perpetrators.

  The legal talk went on for two hours. Refreshments were brought in—the coffee my savior—and I tried my best to note as much as I could with Emerson talking fast and arguing back-and-forth with Wesley.

  It was difficult to focus on anything besides the animosity between these two ex-lovers. And I wondered: am I wearing the same rose-colored glasses that Emerson once wore? If things don’t work out between me and Wesley, would I resent and hate him as much as she does?

  Doubt filled my over-thinking mind. I tried my best to concentrate on the real issue here but every now and then, I found myself watching the t
wo of them and questioning everything about why we were together.

  How could he possibly be with me when he’s had her?

  “Milana, did you jot that down?”

  Emerson breaks my dysfunctional trance, thankfully, and brings me back to the reason why we were all here.

  This lawsuit meant that I would be working non-stop, retrieving necessary documents for the court case, working with Emerson on fast tracking the new line and making sure that her schedule was freed up to focus only on this.

  Charlie made it clear that Wesley and Emerson needed to unite to build the brand and make it stronger. Sonia—the wicked publicist from the west—was placed on conference call and listed all the events that she wanted the two of them to attend.

  “No,” Emerson states, quick to shut her down. “I don’t see why we need to attend together.”

  “Emerson, sweetheart, this brand needs to show a united front. Now is not the time for Wesley to be a silent partner. Okay, look, maybe the red-carpet stuff can be just you. But if I can get a slot to the business convention we discussed a few weeks back, the both of you will need to present.”

  Lifting my eyes, trying not to draw attention to my gaze, my attention wanders from Charlie to Wesley. In front of him sat an empty coffee cup, and his cell. I only notice now that it begins to light up; text after text popping up on his screen. He glances down, scanning the message before raising his eyes back up to look at Emerson—not me.

  My stare moves quickly back to my notepad, the same time my stomach begins to harden, followed by a wave of nausea. How did I get myself here? So easily became intimate with a man—more than any man—and have no clue who he was?

  Despite what I read online about him, those texts could easily be from women that he saw on the side. It’s not a far-fetched thought; women threw themselves at him. What about that Farrah Beaumont. Am I that stupid to have jumped into a relationship with a man so quickly?

  “Let’s reschedule New York for next week. Perfect, I guess, since Logan is in town and can take care of Lola.”

  “Next week?” I ask, forgetting for a moment that Wesley sat across me.