Chapter 4

Four

“Love is just one pile of bullshit and I’m the one who stepped in it.”

~ Emerson Chase

“What the hell happened back there?”

Wriggling my body out of his grip, Logan drops me to the ground as I tumble and manage somehow to not fall over on the dirt. The foliage beneath my feet crunches, echoing the silence that surrounds us.

My chest is heaving, with noisy breaths that exhale through my nose while the thumping inside—from a broken heart—fuels the adrenaline.

Why the fuck did Logan have to follow me?

I want nothing more than to be left alone and sob like a fool.

Refusing to answer him, I continue to storm off, the dirt and pebbles pushing into my brand-new wedges as my steps quicken hoping to escape him. There’s a narrow pathway where town folk often walk their dogs, and with the pale moon the only light guiding me, I follow my instincts until I reach the end of the trees with the lake in full view.

In the distance, there are speckles of lights from the few houses which surround it. It’s such a beautiful place and one which holds memories of my childhood. The three of us would ride our bikes into the same bush causing mischief like the rascals we were.

Dad would take the boat out, teaching Ash and me a thing or two about fishing. We enjoyed it until Dad showed us one day how to gut a fish which had me vomiting overboard—a very unpleasant memory.

Beside the rundown jetty which has many planks missing and shakes when you walk across, sits the giant rock we used to fight over. I don’t know why I gravitate toward it and find myself staring blankly. Then out of the blue, I raise my foot and kick it hard with the tip of my shoe.

Ouch.

“He’s an asshole,” I yell, hopping back trying to control the agony sweeping through my foot and up my leg.

Logan’s standing at the edge of the water with his arms folded and his eyes wandering the shoreline. His steady, muscular back is facing me and probably the best thing right now because I don’t want to look at him. He’s just as annoying as the rest of the men in my life.

“Yeah, sure I’ll admit he can be an asshole, but don’t you think you took it a bit too far?” he responds in an arctic voice but keeping his expression hidden. “He hurt me, too. This whole marriage thing may fuck up our game. You’re not the only one dealing with the ramifications of his actions.”

“You honestly believe all that rubbish? Falling in love? They knew from the start? C’mon, it’s impossible,” I ramble to myself as Logan quietly stands there in contemplation. “You can spend a whole lifetime knowing someone and still feel unsure if the love is there or is right. Two minutes in a bar and that person is your soulmate? Ludicrous.”

Logan turns his neck, body following until we’re facing each other. His presence radiates with superiority, just like when we were kids. I wasn’t afraid back then and I’m not afraid now. His tough-guy persona doesn’t scare me one bit.

“Hypocritical coming from someone engaged to a man who swore he fell in love with you the moment he saw you?” he questions, sarcasm lacing every word leaving his mouth.

The shock of his words cripples my ability to respond with a witty comeback. We aren’t having a good old laugh here, throwing worms in the bottom of Ash’s school bag anymore. And my initial reaction to his cruel words does nothing to calm the sea of emotions ravaging my insides. Logan Carrington is one of them. They all come from the same seed—the seed of men who feel entitled.

Screw a woman.

Move on.

Fuck feelings.

And repeat.

“Knock, knock... anyone home?”

“You’re a jerk,” I mutter as I walk past him and toward the unsteady old jetty which is swaying along with the tide. Standing at the beginning of the broken plank, I watch the dark, murky water while the weight of Wes’ actions begins to sink in. My shoulders fall, drooping and dragging the rest of my body down. My shaking hands move to the necklace sitting on my chest—a small heart Wes had given me on our first anniversary. Pulling the chain left and right, my anger overshadowing the hurt makes me remove the chain, and with one mighty yank it flies in the air and hits the water with a splash.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Taking giant steps toward me, Logan shouts through the quiet night, “You were fine until you checked your phone. Then you switched into queen bitch mode.”

My voice remains silent, ignoring his use of derogatory names.

“So what? You’re too good for us now?”

I spin around, matching his stance and moving closer to intimidate him. “I’m too good for you? How about the fact you guys think you’re too good for me? After all... you left me behind.” Sucking in a deep breath, I let it all go. “That call was my publicist. Wesley’s been caught fucking some hooker.”

His fiery, persistent stare turns to pity and the last thing I need is Logan’s pity.

“A hooker?”

“Hookers.” I laugh deliriously. “And sniffing coke off their asses. Because God forbid, you’ve got nowhere else to sniff that shit from.” My lips quiver, tears threatening to fall. I don’t want to give Wes the satisfaction, but emotions are a powerful thing. When you think you’re strong and made out of steel, they’ll make you crumble and fall harder than you can possibly imagine.

I stare at my hands, watching them shake as that trapped tear falls down my cheek, followed by another then a stream.

“I hate him!” I cry out desperately and unable to speak coherently. “The whole world will know what he did to me. I’m stupid. So… fucking… stupid… for ignoring every sign that stared me right in the fucking face.”

I fall to my knees, the cold dirt grazing them instantly. “Everyone told me to marry him. He wants to get married and have kids. We argue about it all the time. I don’t want kids yet. It’s why we got George.”

I gulp for air, sobbing uncontrollably. “He just kept pushing and telling me our brand is everything. I had no one to confide in. No one to tell me I’m an idiot for believing all his goddamn lies.”

“Jesus, Emmy. Where’s your fucking backbone? Since when do you listen to a guy?” Logan criticizes me.

“I don’t know,” I admit. “Mom knows most of it, but I’ve filtered out the horrible stuff. Like when he tried to switch my birth control pills to have me fall pregnant.”

Logan gazes at me with a pained expression, lips taut without saying a word.

“It was never about me. It was always about the network. They needed a storyline. When the ratings dipped slightly they wanted a scandal. What better scandal than two costars getting knocked up after only one season of filming?”

“So, why the fuck did you stay with him? Do you know how stupid it makes you look?”

Logan’s bluntness is exactly what I needed—two years ago. Right now though, his words hurt and my already bruised ego can’t take any more. I want to crawl into a dark hole and forget the world exists. Pretend I have no life waiting or millions of fans watching my every move.

“You know what? You don’t care at all. You and Ash call yourself family, yet of the few times I’ve reached out to you, you guys didn’t give a goddamn shit.”

“I could say the same thing,” he argues back.

“When? When did you reach out to me?”

He keeps quiet, rubbing his neck with the palm of his hand while staring at the ground.

“Exactly. So don’t tell me how stupid I am. It’s bad enough I now have this on my shoulders. You putting me down doesn’t empower me when I need all the strength I can get right now. I’ve fucked up. I trusted him and look where it’s gotten me.”

“I’m sorry. What a fucking asshole,” he yells, much to my surprise. “Do you want me to call my people?”

“Your people?” I question, confused. “To do what?”

“Whatever you want.”

“Cut his dick off doing a Lorena Bobbitt?”

He cringes, his posture falling over as if he knows what that feels like. “If that’s your wish.”

“Your people can really do that? Who are these people?”

“People.”

I sigh, then let out an unexpected cry.

I hate him.

I want bad things to happen to him.

I want lots of people to make his life hell.

The bastard has hurt me more than I thought imaginable. I’m embarrassed the whole world watched me fall in love with an asshole. And now the whole world will watch as my life falls apart.

What about George?

Will he live with me?

Is there such thing as a custody battle for dogs?

Will he stay with Wes every other weekend? Poor George! He doesn’t deserve to be raised in this type of environment. I wonder if there’s a support group for pugs being raised in a broken home.

In the heat of the moment, I grab my phone out of my purse and throw it into the lake.

What have I done?

Oh crap!

It clicks seconds later as the ripples in the water disappear.

I run without thinking and dive straight into the water then remember the lake is filled with many creepy creatures. It’s not too deep where I land, and in the distance I hear Logan’s voice who’s angry and annoyed, followed by the splash beside me.

I bob down again, searching for my phone with tears battling against the water and my sobs muffled. I scream, then yell, cursing at Wesley Rich for breaking my trust. For tearing my heart into a million pieces and for making me believe what we had was love. And when I pull myself up for air, Logan’s standing in front of me, breathing heavily with my phone in his hand.

“Are you psycho? Seriously, Emmy!”

“Don’t call me that,” I shout back in his face.

“Well, you are. So, the dickhead cheated? Move on. He didn’t deserve you to begin with. Marriage is for the weak. Don’t fall into that whole love bullshit. You can have a good life without it.”

“What would you know?” I argue, ungrateful he found my phone. “You’ve never been in love. At least, I took a chance.”

“Geez woman, will you listen to yourself? Here’s your damn phone. Don’t throw an expensive phone in the lake.” He pushes it toward my chest, eyes wide and fueled with anger.

“You’re all the same, that’s the problem,” I mouth off, not sure where I’m going with this because anger only sees one path—destruction.

“You need to cool off. I’m surprised this cold water ain’t doing that. And for the record, Emmy, we’re not all the same.”

“Yes, you are. It’s all about the pussy. The more you get the bigger you feel. There’s no good men out there who actually believe in love and being faithful. Ash will fuck up. He’s just like you, can’t keep his dick in his pants.”

“Emerson,” he rasps, holding onto my wrist and watching me carefully. “You’re angry. You have every right to be angry. Just don’t destroy the people who love you because of how he treated you. He’s the dick. He doesn’t deserve you. End of story.”

“Doesn’t deserve me?” I laugh again. “Who am I? I don’t even know who I am. Everything I do in life is for everyone else. Make everyone else happy. Entertain the world. My whole life is in the tabloids. Nothing I do is private. I’m sick of it, sick of it all! And it’s my fault. Dad warned me and I didn’t listen. I was so pissed off that you and Ash left me to be big stars that I wanted to rival you.”

“And you did,” he admits with a smirk. “You’re the most wanted TV star. I know men who jerk off just talking about you.”

I cringe, aware something foreign has brushed against my leg.

“That’s gross,” I say flatly, calming down. “Well, it depends who, but still… you really like to paint a picture and distract one’s thoughts.”

“I’m just saying you’re gorgeous.”

I keep my breathing still until the slimy, furry thing brushes against my leg again and I scream, jumping into Logan’s body and wrapping my arms around his neck. Without even thinking, I also wrap my legs around his waist scared half out of my mind.

“Oh. My. God! What the hell is that? An anaconda?”

His arms lace around my entire body, protecting me from the beast.

“Emmy,” he whispers, the sound of his smooth voice calming my racing heart. “Stop living the lie. Do something for you. You owe it to yourself.”

This is the most serious conversation we’ve ever had. I’m waiting for him to laugh, or give me a wet-willy and drop me into the beast’s mouth. But it doesn’t happen.

“I’m scared,” I admit in the softest voice.

“Of what?”

“That you’ll give me a wedgie.”

The stupidity of the situation has slapped me in the face. First, I throw my phone like a tantrum-throwing toddler. Then, I find myself in the arms of Logan Carrington, who no doubt, is plotting something wicked in his sadistic mind.

Between the moon which reflects off the water and the darkness which surrounds us, the sounds of his hitched breathing echo enough for me to remain still. In some crazy way, my heart begins to beat wildly, mirroring his breathing.

“Will you just shut up for once?” he grunts out with a sullen glare. The complete opposite to the calm demeanor he showed only moments ago.

I exhale as if his threats don’t affect me, challenging him because he hasn’t changed one bit. Still, a stubborn know-it-all who thinks he’s king. Rule the world and everyone around him must bow down.

“Yeah? Well… make me,” I say in defiance, holding my arms out so we stare face-to-face.

Something in the way his eyes bore into me, warns me again that Logan never plays fair. He always takes things to the next level. His hand slides down my back and over my ass. My dress is floating, and with one move, his palm is against my bare cheek after he scrunches my panties aside in his hand. It doesn’t help my reflexes are slow. With my hands ready to push him away, the jolt of my body from his fingers brushing against the entrance of my pussy startles me—the moan barely at bay as he repeats the movement again.

Is this happening?

You’re dreaming...

This is some sort of nightmare that you’ll wake up from soon... like now... or now... or now.

Wake up!

My mouth falls open, pressing against his ear from the pressure of him drawing our bodies close together. And just when I think my imagination has played wild and crazy tricks on me, his lips move to my collarbone, biting down on my skin.

“Logan,” I whisper, strained and holding back the pain from his bite. “What are you doing?”

Not answering my question, he buries his head in my neck and grips harder. I have no idea what’s going on and feel helpless because I’m unable to stop it.

This is wrong.

This is weird.

Why am I not fighting back?

His fingers dance around my entrance, and in one quick move, he shifts my panties to one side and they glide effortlessly inside causing me to suck a breath in and arch back while my body melts into him. His pace quickens and my blood begins to heat, my skin steaming in the cold water.

My body begins to act on instinct, succumbing to the fire in my belly which is rising slowly and clouding any rational thoughts. With small but quick moans, my arms wrap around his back tighter, desperate to avoid eye contact while he continues to slide in and out.

The waves of the water allow my hips to sway freely, in sync with every thrust.

My stomach begins to flutter—the fire is beyond control —and is followed by a swirl which builds up and makes my whole body react. I’m sensitive to every touch and movement. Biting down on the tip of his shoulder, I lose control. My teeth dig into his skin as the ache mixed with fire ignites on every surface of my body and barrels through me in one explosive orgasm.

With my eyes closed, I ride the contractions which wrap around his finger and immerse myself in the pleasurable sensations overcoming me. The rise and fall of my chest evens out, reality setting in as to what I’ve done.

What we have done.

I don’t have any words. I’m speechless. Incoherent.

Basking in an intense orgasm from just one finger.

The finger which belongs to the one man you vowed never to touch. And he vowed never to touch you.

So now what?

“I n-need to g-go,” I stutter nervously, embarrassed and looking for an escape.

“Emmy,” he calls softly, gripping me tightly in his embrace.

Squirming my way out of his grip, I muster every ounce of strength in my body and swim away as fast as I can, desperate to escape what’s just happened.

The water becomes shallow as I stand to run away, but I’m completely soaked with water and one other thing.

Guilt.