The Revenge Games Duet

“You better treat her right or you have me to answer to,” I warn him gently, hugging my brother before I’m called on to the set.

Nervous about appearing in front of a live audience, my hands repeatedly pat my thighs while I breathe in and out to curb the anxiety that follows me. Nausea lingers in the pit of my stomach, only adding more stress to the situation.

Logan senses my trepidation, rubbing my shoulders to calm my nerves. “You’ll do great. I’m here, okay?”

I nod, wanting to get this over with. I haven’t seen Wes since the day I left the apartment, but according to the tabloids he did a stint in rehab and has moved in with another actress.

I step onto the stage, dressed head to toe in designer labels. The wardrobe crew want me in a similar dress to the one I wore when Wes and I first went out to dinner. I told them, no, settling for a white off-the-shoulder blouse and black pants. My shoes are Louboutin—a pair I want to steal and take home.

Wesley follows me on the stage and sits beside me on the sofa, keeping his distance. He looks much better, tanned and with his hair slightly longer. Rehab agrees with him, his eyes no longer clouded by dark circles.

“This was an explosive season for the two of you. Let’s watch some of the highlights from season three.”

The footage rolls of our many moments. Some sweet, and some of our brawls. I knew Logan won’t take kindly to seeing this again, he’s already watched season three despite me warning him not to. It only angers him and sent him on a jealous hissy fit, but the positive came from the extremely heated sex that followed.

“How do you feel watching these moments?” Anthony asks, crossing his legs with his cue cards in hand.

“It’s not easy. It was a difficult time for both of us,” I answer honestly.

“And for you, Wesley?”

“The writing was on the wall.”

It’s never leaked out about Wesley’s night in Amsterdam. As much as it hurt me at the time, I understood how damaging it could be for him and his career. So, I never breathed a word of it, allowing people to conjure up their own theories as to why we started to fall apart.

“You and Logan Carrington had quite an affair,” Anthony says with a wicked smile. “We’ve got some unseen footage of the two of you.”

They show the party at Scarlett’s house with the two of us leaving in the limousine together. Then they show some paparazzi shots of us in the Indian restaurant with Ash, us in London leaving the pub, and then they show footage from afar of us arguing on the street of London when I’d just found out about Louisa. The network has never asked my permission to show this footage, but I don’t care, it’s all out in the open anyway.

“And Logan’s here?”

I nod. “Backstage.”

The producers asked if Logan could sit in, but I flat out refused and said no. I don’t want him dragged into this any further, we’ve moved on and that’s that.

The media already follows us around like crazy wherever we go. We keep a low profile, but they come up with ridiculous stories and publish them time and time again for attention.

“Wesley, you had a difficult time this season and ended up in rehab. Are you out now?”

“Yes, clean and sober.”

“There’s also been some other controversy following you. Can we bring out Farrah?”

Farrah walks onstage dressed in gold skimpy number with matching heels. Her hair is platinum blonde, styled in heavy curls which rest at her waistline.

She sits on the other side of Wesley, away from me.

“Welcome Farrah,” Anthony greets her. “On several occasions this season you were filmed talking about their relationship. It’s clear that you had an issue with Emerson which could be taken as jealousy.”

“You’re wrong, Anthony. I wasn’t jealous of her. What’s there to be jealous about?”

Bitch. That’s a low blow.

The words are desperate to leave my tongue, but I cross my legs and look away from her while trying to ignore her childish comment.

“You were also seen out with Wesley quite a bit. Was something going on there?”

“Yes,” she admits as the audience gasps. “We had something on the side.”