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TATE
My car arrived, and for the life of me, I couldn’t bring myself to park it in Wren’s garage, so it sat in the drive beside hers. She was pissed at me. And I didn’t know why, but I knew I didn’t want to make things worse by using the garage she was so adamant I wasn’t allowed in.
She hadn’t spoken to me since I’d gone back out to the pool house last week to grab the contract to make sure the pizza kid had signed it. She barely glanced at me, and when I asked for the contract, she threw it in my face. I wanted to explain but didn’t think she’d listen. It was imperative that my privacy was maintained.
Steve was right. I needed the break. I needed to cool off and calm down. Get my shit together, because if I kept going on the path I was on, my life would spiral out of control. And Rachel was a big part of that too. Another thing Steve was right about. Her wild ways and partying were out of control.
This party tonight was the biggest yet. She had no regard for my privacy or Wren’s. After all, we were living in Wren’s house, and Wren didn’t need a hundred rich brats hanging around all weekend trashing her house. But what Rachel wanted, Rachel got. As much as she drove me crazy. I still needed her.
My career was climbing, and it was because of her that I was as successful as I was. If I ended it now, like Steve wanted me to, I worried it would be career suicide. That was not a risk I was willing to take. I loved my life. My money. Fame. I couldn’t walk down the street without being photographed and stopped for autographs. Women drooled over me, and their boyfriends shot daggers with their eyes.
If I wanted to, I could snap my fingers and those women would drop their underwear at my feet. I had it all; cars, houses, designer clothes. I traveled the world and looked good doing it. Rachel helped. We were the golden couple and if we were to break up, she’d play the victim and drag my name through mud. I wouldn’t let that happen. So, for now, I acted the part of the doting boyfriend, turning a blind eye to the constant partying and drinking and spending money.
I joined in. And admittedly, enjoyed the partying as much as Rachel, at least until I broke that fucker’s nose and camera. He deserved it though. He was a pig. An entitled, elitist, self-centered asshole that wouldn’t have a job if it weren’t for models like me. But he thought he could show up late to a shoot, make me wait while he sent my assistant to get him a coffee, and then had the audacity to yell at her when it wasn’t hot enough for him. He treated me like shit, made crude comments about what he’d do to Rachel if she was his girlfriend, and the whole time, I tried to keep my composure. It wasn’t until my assistant, Olivia, a sweet girl, barely eighteen, dropped a stack of papers and bent down to pick them up, that he really pissed me off. He angled his camera at her ass and began taking shots while she had no idea. “Yeah, baby. That’s it,” he whispered as he snapped away at her.
I lost it. She was like a sister to me. Was the daughter of my parents’ friends. I’d known her since she was a baby, she’d had a tough childhood, like I had, and I was protective. I grabbed the camera from his hands, while the strap was still around his neck, and pulled it tight.
“Delete those now,’ I seethed.
“Or what?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“I think I do.” He cast his eyes over her and licked his lips. ‘You hitting that?”
“Delete them.”
“Don’t think I will. Think I’ll save them in my special file. An ass like that needs to be worshipped.”
And then I didn’t know what happened. I ripped the camera off his neck and threw it across the room, smashing it against the brick wall.
“You fucker. You’ll pay for that and you’ll never get work again.” He spat in my face, squaring his shoulders and preparing for a fight.
My fist connected with his nose before I realized I’d even clenched it. The sickening crunch sent a satisfying thrill through my bones, and I smiled. “You can try. Or I can out you as a sick pervert that preys on young women.” I shoved him away, grabbed the remains of the camera and left.
The shit storm that followed led me to Wren’s doorstep.
“Baby, can you zip me up?” Rachel’s sickly sweet voice broke me out of my thoughts, and I turned to see her coming out of the bathroom in an almost see-through white dress, her black lacy bra and thong on full display.
She turned around and swept her hair over her shoulder. I zipped her up and walked past her into the closet to grab a pair of shorts. “Thanks,” she purred, coming to stand behind me and wrapped her arms around my waist, running her fingers over my stomach. “Need some help?”
“Nope, I’m fine.” I pushed her hand away and made my way into the bathroom. I knew what she’d been doing the night before, or rather who she’d been doing, and I had no interest in letting those hands touch me any time soon.
She crossed her arms and pouted. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Your guests will be here soon.”
“Our guests. And they’ll occupy themselves, while I occupy you,” she said, biting her lip and reaching for the waistband of my jeans.
“Not interested,” I said, and she reared back as though I’d slapped her in the face.
“What changed?”
“Nothing. I’m just not interested. Why don’t you go find Donovan? I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to finish what he started last night.”
“Is it because I got laid last night, and you were stuck here alone with nothing but your hand? We have an agreement, Tate. Open relationship.”
I rolled my eyes. “No. And we don’t have a relationship.” That was so far from what was wrong. It was because I didn’t want my best mate’s seconds.
“Well this ring says something else. It binds us together.” She waves her hand in my face.
“That ring is fake. It’s all for show. And all it does is signify a mutually beneficial business agreement. You’re free to discreetly fuck whoever you want, but don’t expect to get it from me anymore. It’s not even a real god damn fucking diamond.”
Rachel’s mouth dropped open, and I stormed out of the room, throwing my clothes on the bed as I left, not bothering to change.
I needed a drink.
***
THE MUSIC WAS PUMPING as I made my way downstairs. People moved through the house as though they owned it. The French doors were open, and the sound of laughter and water splashing was barely audible over the noise of the stereo. I grabbed a beer from the fridge and wandered outside looking for Donovan and Jet. I knew they’d be here somewhere. They never missed a party.
I found them by the pool watching and cheering as Rachel’s friend Maddie climbed out of the pool in an almost see-through white bikini. Shaking my head, I walked over to them and sat down.
“Hey, man,” they both said and held out their beer bottles to tap against mine. “We grabbed the prime position.” Jet laughed and nodded in Maddie’s direction.
“Where’s Rachel?” Donovan asked casually and glanced around the yard attempting to look innocent.
I raised an eyebrow, and he shrugged. Jet and Donovan were the only other people that I trusted enough to tell Rachel and I were not together. That it was all a publicity stunt that was helping to skyrocket my career. And Donovan’s first words were, “So I can have a crack?”
I didn’t care because he’d ‘have a crack’ at my grandmother if she were still alive.
“She’s probably upstairs pouting.”
“What did you do?” Donovan asked, and Jet burst out laughing.
“Me? Why is it always my fault?”
“Because he’s got it bad, and Rachel can do no wrong.” Jet bit back a laugh and took a swig of his beer.
“Shut up.” Donovan turned bright red and paused briefly before levelling me with his stare. “Seriously, what did you do?”
I laughed and shrugged my shoulders. “Nothing. Just told her the rock she wears is about as real as our relationship.” I wasn’t going to tell him that she was just as pissed that I wouldn’t sleep with her after she’d spent the night with him. It would break Donovan’s little heart.
“Oh, burn. Bet she didn’t like that.” Jet snickered.
“I don’t really care. Honestly, I’m starting to think Steve might be right and I should end it.” I voiced my concerns for the first time to my friends, one of which nodded excitedly in agreement with a huge shit-eating grin on his face. Donovan.
“Probably, but if you do it, it could backfire and ruin your career. Stick it out a little longer,” Jet replied. He was always the voice of reason. Never did anything without thinking it through first.
Donovan scowled.
“You’ll have your chance.” I laughed. Hell, if he didn’t have his own place, and wouldn’t drive me crazy, I’d probably offer for him to live here. Then again, Rachel wasn’t the commitment type, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. He was fragile. Cared too much. A bit of a snowflake. But he was a good guy.
We sat and finished our beers as more and more people filled the house and backyard. I wasn’t sure about Wren, but the amount of people Rachel had invited was beginning to make me uncomfortable, and we’d thrown some pretty epic parties in the past.
Jet whistled low as he returned with three more beers. “Who is that?” He nodded in the direction of Wren’s unit.
I didn’t look up, because I was afraid to see Wren’s scowl across the pool. She was still in a bad mood, and I didn’t want to make it worse. Instead I asked, “Blonde?”
“Yeah.” Jet raised an eyebrow. “Something going on there? You knew who I was talking about without even looking up.”
“Ah, no!” I shuddered and screwed my nose up. It wasn’t Wren, but that didn’t mean her angry glare wasn’t far away. It was Eva.
“Then how did you know?”
“Because I’ve only ever seen three people enter that tiny house. Eva, the blonde. Wren, who’s totally not your type.” He liked them blonde and busty and bimbo-esque.
He frowned. “How so?”
“She’s brunette.”
“Fair enough.” He shrugged in understanding.
I continued, “The pizza guy, and unless you’re batting for the other team and it’s a Tuesday or Friday, it’s obviously not him.”
“What the fuck does the day of the week have to do with anything?”
“Wren has a regular pizza delivery, every Tuesday and Friday.”
“You’re kidding?” Jet threw his head back and laughed. “Who does that?”
I looked over at the pool house to find Wren standing there in short shorts, high socks and a paint-splattered t-shirt, and had to hide my chuckle for fear of her lasering my balls off with one look. “She does,” I said, pointing in her direction.
“Who the fuck is that?” Jet asked.
“Wren.”
“Ahhh.” He nodded and took a swig of his beer before laughing again. Donovan and I laughed too at his response. But he wasn’t done yet. “She’s totally not my type,” he scoffed, his tone condescending as he blanched and moved his gaze to Eva, who was exactly his type, with her middle finger in the air, directed at us, just before Wren dragged her inside.