Dirty Bad Boys Box Set: Forbidden Romance Collection

“Oh, yeah… I totally forgot,” he lies. Brushing it off like it means nothing, he lifts his legs and rests his feet on the coffee table. “Who else was there?”

“Just my family.”

“Your family?”

“You know Mom, Dad, sister, brother…” I spell it out in plain English, not understanding the stupid question or where he’s going with it.

“That’s it?”

“And Logan. But he doesn’t count. He’s like a brother to me. Reiterate... family.”

“Then you’re lying,” he states, arms crossed.

I turn to face him. “I’m not lying. You asked who was there and I’ve told you.”

“He spends an awful lot of time with your family.”

I want to stab Wesley Rich straight in the eye.

He knows I don’t like to talk about my family in front of the camera.

It’s a part of my life I try to keep private, despite Ash and Mom being known. Logan has always been a topic Wes avoids. They have never actually met. The only reason Wes did met Ash was when Ash flew over for a couple of days last year without Logan.

“Yeah, he does. He’s part of my family. That’s what family does, they stick together. Not get married to some billionaire and run off leaving their kids to fend for themselves in boarding school.” I get off the sofa, grab my cell and move past the cameras, demanding Karl and Josie stop filming.

“Emerson,” Karl shouts across the room. “I need more footage.”

I wave my hand in the air, ignoring his plea, and head straight to my bedroom. Shutting the door behind me with a loud bang I know it will only be a matter of time before someone will find me and try to talk me back into living room.

But I’m pissed off.

At Wesley for disrespecting my wishes.

And as much as I hate to admit it, at Logan for being such a sleaze.

The anger rages and I don’t know why I feel compelled to tell Logan my thoughts given we haven’t spoken for weeks.

Me: Filled up your belt, yet? I hear you’ve been busy.

The second I hit send, I want to retract the message. Why the fuck is there no recall button? Did Apple not understand that during heated moments, one can so easily mouth-off based on unstable emotions?

Logan: Nice to see you online. Your hair looks good in purple. But then again, I watched last week’s episode, and I would compare my full belt to your engagement. When’s the lucky day?

I can feel the heat rushing to my cheeks. What does that mean? Comparing his belt to my engagement?

This isn’t a contest.

And if it was, what the fuck would be the prize at the end? Who became the most miserable because they lived a life they didn’t want? Yeah, I’d win that in a heartbeat.

Me: You’re still the same, Carrington. An asshole.

Frustrated at myself for feeling this way, I look up and see George walk out of my closet. He has a guilty face. The same face he wears when he’s been chewing on something pricey. My feet move forward to the closet where I see my vintage Chanel purse Mom gave me a few years back—nibbled at the sides.

“George,” I cry, falling to the floor and picking up the remnants of the bag. He’s really gotten into the beading, tearing it apart with his canine teeth.

I storm out of the closet, searching for him around the room. He’s sitting in the corner, already in timeout with his head down and eyes conveniently avoiding me.

“Are you kidding me? George Puggington! How dare you eat my vintage Chanel? Go for Wes’ shit, not mine!”