Dirty Bad Boys Box Set: Forbidden Romance Collection

This is precisely what I want to avoid—looking like a fool to the world.

I stare at them one more time, then to Wes. His crooked smile soon follows, taking a step forward, wrapping his arm around my waist. With the bright lights hurting my eyes like they have always done, Wes leans in and plants a kiss on the side of my neck. “You’re still my fiancée, whether you like it or not.” The change of tone, grit in his voice, leaves me feeling unsettled.

I tried my best to walk away but was told I have no choice.

I’m forced to live with a man I no longer respect.

A man who’s broken me.

A man who’s made it his mission to make me as miserable as possible.

And the icing on the fucked-up cake? The whole world will be watching him do just that.

Chapter Eight

“It’s the little things that make you happy.

Sometimes those little things can turn

into something greater.”

~ Emerson Chase

Several weeks have passed since that meeting.

A day that cemented the truth in my mind—my life does not belong to me.

I had no option but to keep myself busy—photoshoots, interviews, and drinking whenever we were out at social gatherings.

Twitter’s buzzing with some story calling me an alcoholic train wreck. It happens to be a coincidence that every photograph snapped of me is with a glass of wine in hand.

After that story broke loose, I made a mental note to stay clear of drinking in public. The network executives don’t want my squeaky-clean image to be destroyed and ruin the show.

Yet, Wes could fuck two hookers. Go figure.

There’s one thing I’ve made perfectly clear to Wesley—we are over.

The betrayal doesn’t erase because we’ve been told to continue the show. When the cameras are on, we act as if nothing’s happened, but as soon as they leave he sleeps in the spare room and he knows not to come anywhere near me.

I have to give it to him, he’s tried his best to apologize through romantic dinners and roses being delivered. I’m just not interested. At least, in my eyes, the love has diminished to the point that I don’t see any kind of future with him.

I’ve isolated myself from everyone. I’m glad everyone else’s lives are so busy that it’s convenient for me. Mom’s wrapped up her book and has gone into stress mode as she always does when it sits in the hands of her editor. Her coping mechanism is baking, which is great if you’re in the same house. Instead, she sends me pictures of the yumminess which only depresses me even further.

Ash and Logan are back to training in England preparing for the semi-finals in a few weeks. I know not to bother either of them. When in game mode, nothing else matters.

I do, however, find friendship with Alessandra. We talk regularly about life, work, and the downfall of living with Ash. He was and still is, a slob.

I’ve spent the day shooting an interview for our new workout clothing line when Cliff calls asking Wesley and me to film in the apartment tonight. They have done some edits but need more footage of us discussing our wedding. I dread filming this, it’s a topic I want to stay clear of considering I have no intention of ever marrying him.

A couple of hours later our makeup artist, Reba, hovers over me with her brush, touching up just under my eyes. Our regular camera crew, Karl and Josie, stand in position as we sit on the white sofa.

“I can’t wait to make you my wife.” Wes grins, tracing the tip of my ring which still sits on my finger burning my skin.

“I guess we should start planning the wedding?” I manage to say with a smile, but I’m mentally aware my body language needs to be relaxed and not tense.

“I’m thinking Paris. Winter. Just like when I proposed.”

“That sounds beautiful.”