by Kat T. Masen
“Maybe we should tell them,” I say with a straight face.
“Tell them what? That we’re fucking? Oh, that’s going to go down real nice.”
“Why not?” I joke lightly.
“Because they think we hate each other.”
“Okay…” I challenge her, “… then we’ll pretend to hate each other. Besides, the best sex is hate sex, right?”
She smirks, throwing a towel my way. “Game on, Carrington.”
***
“Dad, you look like shit,” Emmy tells Chris while scarfing down her breakfast even though she complained her jaw hurt from all the deep-throating.
“I’m not twenty-one anymore.” He grimaces at the rare sun gracing us this morning. “God, I don’t remember how much your head can hurt after a big night.”
Abbi sits quiet on her chair, sporting oversized glasses and a hat.
“Mom? What about you?”
She raises her finger motioning Emmy to be quiet.
“I think Mom and Dad partied too hard.” Ash chuckles, unaffected by his beer consumption last night. “Where did you end up, Emmy?”
She shuffles nervously, crossing her legs. “I got a room. I was exhausted from the day out plus, I didn’t want to travel back this morning.”
“But isn’t your hotel like ten minutes away?” I put her on the spot, watching her expression change to annoyance.
“Ten minutes in distance is doubled in London traffic.”
“But there’s no traffic,” I point out. “Just seems odd that you’d stay in this hotel.”
“I think it’s odd you’re a jerk,” she argues back.
“Kids, keep it down, please. My ears hurt,” Abbi complains.
We end the conversation and eat breakfast quietly, watching a re-run of the game on the big screen television. Seeing Ash score that final goal brings back joyous memories of that moment. He fucking nailed it.
“Has anyone seen Poppy?” Emmy asks. “We kind of went our separate ways at the pub, and the last time I saw her she was telling jokes at your table, Ash.”
Ash bows his head, studying his plate before his eyes look up at me.
Oh fuck, he fucked her.
The look of guilt, I’ve seen it several times before. I can tell by the way he looks at me, warning me to not say anything out loud.
Jesus, I know his fight with Alessandra got to him but I didn’t expect this to happen.
“I think I saw her leave the pub,” he says blasé.
Emmy wipes her mouth with the napkin, leaning back on her chair. “I should probably call her. Just to make sure.”
“You know what?” Ash interrupts, slightly panicked. “She’s a big girl. I’m sure she got back okay.”
“When did you leave the pub?” Ash switches the subject to me. Fucking dick.
“Don’t remember. Was exhausted, so it’s kind of a blur.”
“Sorry, Mom and Dad,” Ash warns before turning back to me. “You picked someone up, didn’t you? Was it that blonde with the low-cut tank and short mini who asked where you were staying?”
“Which blonde?” I screw up my face, pretending to be uninterested.
“Oh, yeah,” Emmy adds with much delight. She pushes her tongue against her cheek, watching me with a wide smirk. “The blonde who offered you her room key. She said she was kinky and wanted to tie you up. Sorry, Mom and Dad.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You sooo got laid,” Emmy teases. “She would have fucked your little socks off.”
Ash laughs, stealing the last sausage from the plate in the middle off the table. “Good. You need a good screw after your dry hump. Especially after your breakup with Louisa.”
He continues to laugh at the same time Emmy’s face changes. It’s a look of curiosity, and something else I can’t quite figure out.
“Who’s Louisa?” Emmy questions, clearing her throat.
“Remember I told you about her?” Abbi intervenes. “The love of Logan’s life—”
I’m about to stop that statement until Ash interrupts, “You were about to marry her. Did I tell you I ran into her last week? I don’t know why I forgot to tell you. She broke up with what’s-his-face and asked about you.”
If that had happened three months ago, I would have gladly called her and picked things up from where we left off. But I sit here, unaffected by what he’s told me and more concerned by Emmy’s quiet reaction. I hate the fact I can’t read her, there’s a total blank expression on her face.
“Honestly, bro. She’s great,” Ash continues. “Yeah, I know I dislike her, but you were happy with her. Looking back now, I’ve never seen you happy with anyone besides her.”
“Second chances don’t come often,” Abbi says, placing her arm on mine.
“Abbi, leave the boy alone. He has time to worry about a relationship later. The next four weeks is training and games, and I don’t want anyone distracting him,” Chris says sharply.
Emerson refuses to look my way, removing the napkin from her lap. “I’m going to head back to the hotel, we have one final shoot today and then we fly out tomorrow.”
Abbi and Chris stand up, hugging her before she turns to congratulate Ash then waves across the table to me—without any eye contact—and says congratulations.
Moving her chair in to the table, she turns around and hurries out of the restaurant.
I think on my feet about an excuse, then tell them I accidentally handed her my credit card last night to buy drinks and need to grab it off her. I chase her down the street before she hops into a cab. “What was that back there?” I say out of breath.
“I’m tired.”
“You’re not getting off that easily.”
She motions her eyes across the street where a man stands with a camera taking photos of us. I smile, pretending everything’s okay then grit through my teeth asking again.
“I don’t know, Logan. Try sitting at a table hearing about the woman who’s the love of your life suddenly wanting you back.”
“C’mon.” I brush it off like it’s nothing because it is nothing. “Are you seriously believing what Ash said?”
“Why would he lie, huh?” She laughs to herself. “Why would Ash make that stuff up? You know what, don’t even answer.”
“Emerson, c’mon…” I beg her to stop.
“No, Logan. You’ve got the love of your life waiting for you. Better go find her.”
The window winds up and the cab drives away, leaving me standing alone on the sidewalk. The paparazzi run across the road, dodging traffic and almost getting run over by a bus. They demand answers to their impromptu questions, and I answer only to distract myself.
“How did it feel to win last night?”
“Is it true that Real Madrid have offered you a position next season?”
“Are you and Emerson Chase an item?”
The last question strikes a nerve. People are onto us.
I could expose our relationship, come out to the world and tell everyone how I feel about her.
But that will damage us more than it would bring good.
“She’s engaged to Wesley Chase. She’s like my sister.”
I pretend it doesn’t hurt, and that the anger doesn’t consume me while walking back to the restaurant where I’m forced to pretend Emerson Chase means nothing me.
When in reality—I’m in love with her.
Chapter Nineteen
“Another woman may have caught your eye,
but ultimately,
the heart is what matters the most.”
~ Emerson Chase.
Wes packs his final suitcase, zipping it up and placing it near the door.
I sit at the dining table, crunching numbers and emailing our lawyer about the contracts we signed for the fitness line launching in Europe. It’s tedious work and something I have been putting off. I also busy myself looking at other properties to purchase building my portfolio and branching away from Wesley.<
br />
There’s a pot of coffee beside me—cold and stale from when I made it earlier this morning.
“You know where to reach me?”
“I have your number,” I remind him, staring at this impossible equation on my screen.
“Will you be okay by yourself?”
I can hear the worry in his voice. This isn’t the first time he’s gone away for the weekend, but after what happened in London, he’s been extra protective watching my every move. He’s even made Jimmy, our bodyguard, follow me around town.
The stalker has been arrested, but nothing else can be done. He hasn’t breached any laws and the guy just needed a visit to the looney bin to regroup. Nina held bits of information from me so as to not stress me out.
“I’ll be fine. Tayla flies in tomorrow morning so we’re gonna hang out.”
“You never told me Tayla would be in town.”
I sigh, shutting the lid of my laptop to give him my full attention. “Mom was supposed to come but had something last minute pop up, so she’s sent Tayla instead. I didn’t tell you because I figured you didn’t care.”
“I care, Emerson.” He moves closer to me, resting his hand on my cheek.
Without hurting his feelings, I turn my face away allowing him to pull back. Since we got back from London last week, our schedules have been busy with no time to unwind. We have two more shows to film before final edits. We did a round of interviews, appeared as guests on talk shows, and had meetings with our business partners. Each night I’ve come home utterly exhausted, fitting in small workouts here and there then crashing as soon as I hit the pillow.
It leaves little time to think about Logan and how we left things off, despite the thousands of texts he sends each day which I continue to ignore.
“I should go.”
“Have fun.”
“Do you really mean that?” he asks in a civil tone, a small smile appearing on his tired face.
“I do.” I offer a small smile in return, hoping to reconcile our constant fighting. “We’ll get through this, okay? Just have fun with the boys.”
“I never meant to hurt you, Em. I don’t know what happened that night,” he admits quietly. “I know we’re not together, but it doesn’t stop me from loving you.”
Letting out a sigh, my eyes meet his with forgiveness. “It’s done, Wes. We need to move on with our lives. We have two episodes left to film. Cliff said they’ll show our argument at Scarlett’s party. The cracks are already there for those who want to read between the lines.”
“I know. But you know that season won’t air until the fall. In the meantime, the network doesn’t want to show any cracks in our relationship. They want it to be a surprise. Ratings soar higher that way.”
Of course, they would.
Stuck between a rock and a hard place, I fight the urge to start another argument and remain tight-lipped. Wes pulls out his cell and stands behind me, leaning down and kissing my cheek as the camera clicks.
“Let’s ease the rumors.”
He types away, then places his cell in his back pocket. “We both have committed ourselves to the show. Just do this for me, Em. Finish it off with high ratings and then you can walk away.” He says goodbye and disappears, closing the door behind him as I move to the balcony and watch Wes drive off.
With my cell in hand, I log on and see the photo he’s posted on Instagram.
How beautiful is my fiancée? Love this woman so much, and can’t wait to make her my wife. #Beautiful #FutureBabyMama
Great. That last comment will start the rumor mill. It feels like it’s one thing after another, never time to relax without drama.
As predicted, the comments go nuts and Nina’s number flashes on my screen within minutes.
“Are you pregnant?”
“No,” I tell her. “Wes posted that to ease the rumors about us splitting up.”
“Jesus fucking Christ.” I hear the relief in her voice. “Thank God. My phone’s blowing up.”
“Sorry. I had no idea he wrote that. Call him and get him to post something to shut everyone up. I don’t know... I’m so over it.”
“I get you’re over it…” she responds with frustration, “… but you still have a job to do and I’m busting my ass to get things tied up. Don’t give me extra work to do by posting silly little lies like this.”
“Nina…” my tone is sharp, my patience wearing thin, “… I didn’t do this. Take this shit out on Wesley. I need to go.”
“Em…” she calls out, apologetic, “… I’m sorry. I have a lot on my plate. Tomorrow’s the magazine article and feature spread of your engagement. The photos of the ring and possible dresses will be made public. Don’t forget to share the article online. We need to push hard or the magazine will retract future deals if we don’t make target.”
“I don’t feel right about this. What’s going to happen when everything’s called off?”
“Then the tabloids get what they want… the controversy, the drama. C’mon, Em, you know how it all works.”
“I know. I just don’t agree.” I remain sullen, feeling sorry for myself. “How much longer do I need to stay here… with Wes?”
“Look. I know it’s hard. It can’t be easy to stay with a man you don’t love—”
“I never said I didn’t love him,” I interrupt.
“Then what are you saying? You want to marry him? This changes the whole game.”
The game.
Two words that impact my already-fragile emotions.
I want to run away from it all. Give up and just move to some country town in the middle of nowhere where nobody gives a fuck about who I am. Where I can walk down the street dressed in the grungiest of clothes and people simply don’t care or judge me.
“Nina, Wesley and I are over. I know what’s going to happen when this story breaks… I’ll pretty much have to go into hiding till it all dies down. I just don’t get why this article is still going forward? It might not sit well with some people.”
It won’t sit well with Logan.
His jealous streak has only gotten worse—a side of him I’ve never seen. In some ways, it terrifies me. I don’t know what he’s capable of. He isn’t the Logan Carrington I once knew. He’s this obsessive creature who doesn’t know how to express his feelings.
A quick phone call turns into an hour-long conversation about our upcoming commitments. I can hear the constant beep in the background, knowing everyone’s chasing my tail to see if it’s true.
I could kill Wesley with my bare hands right now.
When we hang up the call, so I reluctantly check my screen and see only Logan’s name. You received 10 missed calls from Logan Carrington.
Logan: Why won’t you pick up your fucking phone?!!
Logan: I’m dead serious Emerson. Answer my calls.
Logan: If this is your way of paying me back, we’re fucking over. I never pegged you to be this vindictive, but apparently you are. Have a nice fucking life, Mrs. Rich.
I don’t know how to react to such a snarky message. I could call him. Set the record straight. But I told him to trust me, although we did leave things in the air back in London. Several times I find myself on the verge of dialing his number but quickly retract, knowing that any communication between us won’t end well. I need time to think about us, away from him, because he has a way of confusing my state of mind with his charm and irresistible body.
Sitting on the large wicker chair, I tuck my legs beneath me with George snuggled into my side. The day is slightly overcast with a chance of rain in the late afternoon. The wind picks up a little, yet still warm and refreshing, as we continue to sit in silence.
The temptation’s too great.
With my cell resting on my lap, I grab it and Google Logan Carrington and Louisa Hemmings.
Several images appear of the two of them—mainly at dinners and charity events. Remembering Ash’s comments, I study the photos looking for traces of happiness. Something in Logan’
s face which indicates she was or still is the love of his life. Dammit—where’s Poppy when I need her?
I hit dial, and ring her number wanting her to do another one of her face readings.
“Em?” She sounds surprised to hear from me. “Is everything okay? What’s with Wes’ baby mama comment? Everyone’s going nuts. I was filming with Farrah when she read it, and the cameras caught Farrah’s very colorful opinion of his post.”
“I didn’t realize he’d do that. I’m too tired to think about it. Let people think what they want. The truth will come out in nine months when no baby is on that vagina log ride.”
Poppy’s infectious laugh barrels through the speaker. “Your brother, honestly.” She sighs.
“Are you okay? You sound a bit off.”
“Who me? I just have... a nasty bug. Must have picked it up from traveling.”
“Oh, I’m sorry...” I can tell she’s distracted.
“Listen, Em… can I call you back? I need to grab some painkillers or something.”
I tell her to call me back whenever she feels up to it. Quickly hanging up the call, I dial Ash’s number next.
“What?” he answers agitated.
“Nice greeting. What’s crawled up your ass and died?”
“Nothing,” he stalls, then continues, “What’s been happening?”
“Same old. And you?”
“Training, you know, same stuff. So, are you knocked up?”
“What do you think, moron? So... how did training go today... for you and, um… Logan?”
“Since when did you care so much?” Ash snickers. “Logan bailed. He had something to do that was more important. The cunt pisses me off anyway.”
I scowl at Ash’s choice of words but wonder why Logan would ditch training. “That’s odd of him.”
“Fuck, yeah. I bet he’s off screwing Louisa since she turned up at our apartment last night.”
My stomach flips, followed by a rapid burning sensation that stops my regular breathing. I can’t believe this. He’s run back to her and here I am feeling so fucking sorry for myself because he screwed me over.
What happened in London was purely to get me into bed.