Dirty Bad Boys Box Set: Forbidden Romance Collection

“I know you do. We miss you.”

“We?”

“Liam and me. He asked about you again, for like the hundredth time. He still cares. It’s not too late, you know.”

“That boat has sailed, Phoebs. Liam and I are just Liam and I.”

“And you and Wesley are—”

“Wesley is crazy. I am… in love,” I finally admit, openly, to her.

“And that, my friend, is the answer to your problem.”

I think about what she’s saying, and stupidly I question why love should be a problem. Isn’t love supposed to be the greatest thing to happen to you? The world becomes full of rainbows, unicorns frolicking around, and all you can feel is the crisp, clean air and hear the sounds of a beating heart that bursts every day with joy.

Love is not crying each day. Love is not questioning whether you should pick up the phone and call him because you fear his mood swings and erratic behavior. Love is not asking for space.

And if love is not self-inflicting pain and falling back into his arms because, in a twisted way, it comforts you, then what is it I’m feeling?

The exhaustion hits me, the yawns coming hard and fast while I barely say goodbye, my phone face-planting me several times. Phoebe reminds me to call her later, something about catching me up on who is dating who in town, and the latest controversy with her neighbor’s teen pregnancy.

I doze off, only to wake to a commotion, unknown voices and some yelling. The doors to my suite swing open, forceful and slamming against the wall, with Wesley standing between them, wild and monstrous. He appears larger than usual—his built physique wearing a black hoodie and gray sweats. His beard, normally well-kept, is over-grown and covering his lower face.

Emerson is quick at his heels, pulling him back which he ignores, shaking her grip off him which only frustrates her more. His gaze is steadfast, hard against me, and his breathing is abnormally noisy—the only sound echoing in the room.

“Wesley, stop. Calm down, will you,” Emerson commands, her tone rigid.

“Leave us, please,” he grits, nostrils flaring with a piercing stare.

“No. You’re crazy. Are you on something?”

“It’s okay,” I tell her, rubbing my eyes and sitting up. “You can leave us.”

“Are you sure?” Emerson glances at Wesley, staring him down with worry. “I’ll be right outside dealing with security, and a husband who will no doubt tear me to shreds.” She leaves the room, closing the door behind us.

Wesley paces back and forth, head bowed with a heavy step, clenching then unclenching his hands.

I’m not surprised to see him here. He has a way of finding me wherever I may be. I’m still tired, though I did sleep, my anger is controlled, perhaps from my exhaustion. And despite his clear anguish, I’ve missed him.

But I’m not going to tell him that.

I need to talk to him.

Set it straight, once and for all.

“Well, you’re obviously here for a reason.”

“What part of a relationship don’t you understand?”

“Here we go again,” I say, defeated, throwing my hands in the air. “I leave for two minutes, and you’re acting like a caveman. Give me a fucking break! Do you know what it’s like to have cameras point in your face demanding you tell them if you’re fucking Wesley Rich?”

“No… you give me a break.” His hands nervously run through his hair. I can see now, at closer range, his bloodshot eyes that Emerson must have noticed. He must be on something. The deal, the other night, he’s high now or whatever happens when you’ve taken something. He needs help, I can’t do this. This is beyond me.

“I can’t fucking think straight, Milana. You think it’s fun not calling me. Playing these useless mind games to fuck with me? I know you read my texts. I know you go out and have fun, dancing or whatever the fuck with other men. You think I just sit around and not think about you? I can’t fucking breathe. All. The. Time.”

“And do you think it’s easy for me? This life. Your life. It isn’t what I know. I don’t know what it’s like to have every move watched. What happened yesterday terrified me. On top of that, I have broken an important relationship because of us.”

“What? Your fucking ex back home?”