by Kat T. Masen
Kat T. Masen
The Revenge Games Duet
Includes:
Kicking Reality
Bad Boy Rich
Kat T. Masen
Copyright 2019 Kat T. Masen
All Rights Reserved
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to real events, real people, and real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, organizations or places is entirely coincidental.
All rights are reserved. This book is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the express written permission of the author. All songs, song titles, and lyrics contained in this book are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders.
Disclaimer: The material in this book contains graphic language and sexual content and is intended for mature audiences, ages 18 and older.
Book design by Swish Design & Editing
Editing and proofing by Swish Design & Editing
Cover design by Outlined with Love Designs
Cover Image Copyright 2019
First Edition 2019
All Rights Reserved
Revenge is a dish best served cold in Hollywood.
In front of the camera, Wesley Rich and Emerson Chase are the perfect couple. The reality television duo is taking the world by storm with their lavish lifestyle, incredible good looks and blossoming romance which the viewers can’t get enough of.
But when the camera switches off, their lives are anything but perfect.
Fame, deceit and a brother’s best friend creating a complicated love triangle, this angsty box set is full of steamy romances, forbidden relationships, and a bunch of lies all in the name of love.
For my son Preston, the future Logan Carrington.
Blurb
Dedication
Table of Contents
KICKING REALITY
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Epilogue
Bonus Scenes from the Men of Kicking Reality
BAD BOY RICH
A Note To The Reader
Playlist For Bad Boy Rich
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Epilogue
Other Books by Kat T. Masen
Acknowledgments
Connect With Me Online
About The Author
Prologue
“There are two voices that exist,
my head and my heart.”
~ Emerson Chase
“And five... four... three... two...” our producer Cliff calls. “Action.”
Within seconds the cameras begin rolling. There’s three of them surrounding us, inches away as they zoom in close attempting to capture every second of this moment.
We’re standing in front of the Eiffel Tower at some god-awful hour in the middle of winter. I’m a summer girl myself, but something about this place is magical during this season. Perhaps it’s the beautiful snowflakes falling around us or the twinkling lights from the tower. There’s also the sound of heavenly peace.
I breathe it all in—the beauty, the silence, and the man standing in front of me wearing a black Versace suit with no overcoat. Bearing the cold, yet still as dashing as the first moment I laid eyes on him three years ago.
“Em, there isn’t a day that goes past when I don’t imagine you in my life. We’ve been on this journey together, and the moment you walked into that restaurant I knew you were the one. Wearing that red dress… you looked absolutely breathtaking.” A puff of cold air escapes his mouth, followed by a nervous bite on my lip. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and only you.”
Wesley lowers himself to the ground on one knee, eyes fixed on me as he produces a small, black box. He flicks it open and inside sits a beautiful diamond ring. His eyes glaze over—a signature move he often does when he chokes up. And for a moment—if only a few seconds—I forget that the world is watching. It’s just him and me standing alone during this very intimate moment.
“Emerson Chase, will you do me the honor of being my wife?”
The camera zooms in closer with Cliff watching behind the lens, his arms crossed. I try not to pay attention to the way his face has tightened or how his lips remain flat. Never a good sign.
Somewhere, deep inside, my heart asks if this man is the love of my life. If marrying Wesley is the best thing to happen to me. It’s all about relationship progression.
‘We can’t stay boyfriend and girlfriend forever.’ Words spoken by our publicist.
I begin to blink my eyes, and within moments, the tears build and one falls graciously down my cheek. “Yes.” I smile through that lonesome tear.
Wes’ face lights up with joy. His messy, brown hair flicks against the slight wind as he pulls the ring out of the box and slides it on my finger.
It’s beautiful.
I stare at it in complete and utter awe.
The rock is huge, no doubt some designer looking for a promotional opportunity. The second this image hits social media the ring will be sold out everywhere, and the designer will be laughing all the way to the bank.
In a swift and overexcited move, Wes pulls my body against his and kisses me deeply, moving his warm tongue against mine before pulling back with a grin on his face.
Wes is an attractive guy. Sweet, yet at times, arrogant and a know-it-all. The fans love him. The ultimate pin-up boy that every girl has in her bedroom and imagination. Yet, his boyish grin coupled with an exuberant attitude to make me his wife rubs off on me as the excitement slowly sinks in.
Holy shit! I’m getting married!
I take another look at my ring, glancing sideways to read the white cardboard that Cliff’s holding up. I should have practiced my lines, and Cliff’s annoyed face tells me he thinks the same.
“It’s such a beautiful ring,” I comment with a sheepish smile. “Where? How?”
Wes quickly kisses the tip of the ring while not letting go of my hand, holding them p
reciously as if they belong to him.
“Harry Winston, of course. Nothing less for my fiancée.”
“Fiancée,” I beam without effort. “I really like the sound of that.”
Wes runs his finger along the base of my jaw, tracing it with his eyes before raising them to meet mine.
Closing my eyes briefly, I take a breath and allow myself to feel this moment. This is it. The moment you imagined your entire life. The man you love proposing marriage. This is what all little girls dream about—Mr. Prince Charming, sweeping you away and creating this perfect memory that sets the foundation for a happily ever after.
“I love you, Em. Nothing will stop you from becoming my wife.”
“I love you, too,” I breathe slowly.
We both lean in for another kiss, lingering until Cliff yells, “Cut.”
Wes pulls away first but maintains his position. His body begins to shiver with the brutal cold finally settling in. “You like it?” He strains while his teeth shatter uncontrollably, cradling my waist in his arms and using my body to warm himself up.
“It’s beautiful,” I respond almost speechless and mesmerized by the exquisite piece of jewelry that now sits on my finger.
“Great work, guys, but we have one problem. Wesley, for fuck’s sake, you got the dress color wrong,” Cliff shouts, disgruntled, shoving his coffee cup into the chest of his assistant, causing the brown liquid to spill all over her white coat.
“I did?” Wes replies with a half-assed laugh.
“That’s right,” I confirm, remembering the moment we first met. “It was white.”
“Oh…” Wes’ face drops, his devilish smile disappearing quickly. “That dress.”
The dress that caused our first major fight which ended up in the tabloids. It all started because his jealousy reared its ugly head when he caught an ex-cast member commenting on how I looked ‘fuckable’ in that dress.
“Sorry, guys, but since we have that first episode aired we need to get the facts straight,” Jenny, our co-producer, informs us.
“You mean I have to do this again?” Wes complains, removing his hands from my body, folding his arms while kicking the snow beneath his feet.
“Wow!” I drag out. “God forbid you have to propose again?”
“C’mon, Em, I didn’t mean it like that. I just want this over with.”
His face softens, and perhaps I’m a bitch for pointing out that my feelings are hurt. But like everything that’s happened in my life it all feels staged. And this so-called perfect moment suddenly feels very imperfect.
The cold becomes unbearable. My feet are frozen in the expensive pair of boots I’m wearing. The dress I have on has long sleeves, but because we have to get this proposal right, the designer requested I didn’t wear a jacket. The million-dollar diamond necklace adorning my neck feels like cold steel against my already-frozen skin.
I should have taken it as a sign.
Everything about this is to bring in ratings.
To make the television network rich.
And somewhere amongst this scripted moment, Wes and I are supposed to make it come alive. Show everyone what true love is all about.
I do love him. We’ve built a life together over the last three years. We purchased our first home, moved in together, and spent the previous year growing our fitness line. We’ve even adopted a dog—George Puggington.
Everyone refers to us as the ‘unstoppable duo.’ We’re taking the world by storm and at the ripe old age of twenty-six. Forbes predicted we would be billionaires by the time we reach thirty.
It’s win-win in everyone’s eyes.
Everyone’s but my own.
There’s a commotion around us, the crew touching up my makeup and hovering over me while my knees shake with the cold.
Wesley taps his foot, frustrated and impatiently waiting for them to finish when the ring box slips out of his shivering fingers and onto the pile of snow in front of me.
I don’t know what compels me to bend down and pick it up. As I lean down, ignoring my fingers stiffening from the cold, I lift it toward me until my focus moves to the scar on my knee. Three stitches from when I fell off a zip-line at the age of ten. When I didn’t have a care in the world. When life was nothing but unicorns, rainbows, and making my brother’s life hell.
The good old days before life became a circus show.
But who do I have to blame?
The man professing his love to me in front of the entire world?
The millions of fans who tune in at seven every Monday night?
Or myself, for thinking I had to prove a point?
Cliff directs the cameramen to take their places. With everyone positioned as before, Wes stands on the black cross—taped to the ground—and I follow his lead.
“And five... four... three... two...”
“Em, there isn’t a day that goes past that I don’t imagine you in my life...”
Chapter One
“There are signs everywhere you look.
You just need to ignore the bullshit
that clouds them.”
~ Emerson Chase
“What is it like to be the hottest couple on TV?”
I should have seen that question coming.
A frenzy that can only be described as pure madness.
My publicist, Nina, had warned us this would happen. The producers and network executives knew they would top the ratings with that episode.
Now everyone’s on a high, including me.
“We simply go on about our lives as if the cameras aren’t watching. Hottest? We honestly don’t think that of ourselves.” Wesley laughs, resting his hand comfortably on my thigh.
What a load of shit. I hold back the predictable eye-rolling as Wesley charms the reporter from Hot Entertainment News, the biggest entertainment program around the globe.
We’ve been asked this question numerous times, and each time Wesley lies through his teeth that labels aren’t important.
Let’s clarify—they aren’t important to me.
I couldn’t care less.
But Wesley has this desperate need to be number one in everything he does.
When we first met, his competitiveness was a major turn-on. Now, I simply ignore his immature behavior.
The proposal was filmed two months ago and aired only last night. We were under strict contractual obligations to not let it slip, which meant I was forced to keep that beautiful ring in my closet and not showcase it like a happy, newly engaged woman normally would. Aside from our parents and entourage of management, no one else knew.
But last night, at precisely 7:42 p.m. the world watched on, and social media blew up.
Many congratulatory messages from fellow actors and fans rolled in and then, the trolls started.
How dare I marry Wesley Rich?
Emerson Chase is nothing but an ugly, gold-digging whore wanting to tie him down and ruin his reputation.
I was also called, too fat. Too skinny. And, oh my God, I hate her hair!
I’ve heard and seen it all before.
Ignoring the nastiness and avoiding social media at all costs is on top of my list—that was until Wesley read the tweets to me late last night.
“Babe, check it out… this chick has Photoshopped you onto a cow’s body.”
I grabbed his cell to look at the photo. It was kinda funny, but it still hurt my feelings.
This industry calls for a tough skin. I know that. I just didn’t anticipate three years ago that our show, Generation Next, would be the highest-rating show for the network. They didn’t predict it either.
When we were scouted on campus to star in the show, they merely wanted some college kids with different majors.
I’m not stupid though, I knew they wanted me because of who my mother is, and the fact that my brother had at the time just been picked up to play premier-league soccer in England. But nevertheless, I signed on the dotted line because I was bored and had zero social life.
College was always depicted as one big social orgy.
Yeah, I may have gone to a few frat parties and drank like tomorrow didn’t exist, but for most of the part, I kept to myself with the goal of finishing my major, sober.
My attention’s brought back to Donna Mack, the slutty reporter showing way too much leg who Wesley’s pretending to ignore. “According to online polls, you guys are finalists as the hottest couple on television. The fans love you. They’ve even started Instagram accounts dedicated to only pictures of the both of you.” She’s quick to smile as if she’s just dished out some sort of compliment.
Wes places his arm around me, pulling my body closer while planting a kiss on my neck. I am all for affection in private, but dislike it when he purposely does it in interviews. Something he’s been doing more of in front of the camera and less in the bedroom.
Perhaps that’s what’s causing this crabby, irritable mood. I need to get laid.
Blame it on busy schedules, back-to-back filming, or the fact that George claimed the middle of our bed as his territory. Either way, it’s causing significant friction in our relationship.
“Wesley’s a very affectionate guy. We’re flattered our fans take time out to praise our relationship,” I answer in a confident tone.
Lies... more lies.
She asks a couple more routine questions before wrapping up the interview. When she leaves the area, Wes takes the opportunity to slide his hand along my thigh and into the slit of my dress. Attempting to push him away, I scan our surroundings to make sure no one’s watching.
Someone is always watching us.
“Let me finger you, you know you love it,” he begs, tempting me with his eyes.
I squeeze my legs tight, ignoring the sensations building. “Can’t you wait? Seriously, they’ll be back any minute.”
Wes ignores my comment, pressing further on the base of my clit until we’re interrupted by one of the assistants carrying two bottles of water. She spots his hand buried between my thighs, turning her red face in the opposite direction and almost crashing into the camera. “I’m sorry...” she stammers while eyeing the floor.