Exposed: A British Bad Boy Romance (11 page)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Susie

“O
kay, you can do this,” I say to myself, taking one long last look in the mirror.

I’m taking Al’s suggestion to heart and going all out. Skimpy lacy lingerie, sky-high heels, and a trench coat.

That’s it.

That’s all I’m wearing.

I might be fucking insane.

I haven’t heard from Jasper since this morning and that makes me a little nervous. What if he’s not there? What if he has other plans?

But he told me he wanted to see me tonight and after this morning, I can’t imagine him changing his mind.

The thought brings a sly smile to my lips and I tie the trench coat closed, hugging my body. No one will know by looking at me, but I
know.

I know that I’m going over to a man’s place nearly naked.

For sex.

I know that Jasper is the only person that can make me howl in pleasure and cry out his name as stars burst behind my eyes.

And I know that I’m already wet thinking about it.

I climb into the back of the taxi and feel my whole face flushed with excitement and arousal.

As I mutter the hotel name in a quivering voice, I swear the cabbie knows exactly what I’m doing, too.

This is crazy.

I’m
crazy.

But the thought of showing up at Jasper’s door and just dropping the coat spurs me on. I’m emboldened by the way he looks at me.

Brazen enough to believe the things he says to me in the throes of passion.

To believe I’m incredible and irresistible.

No one else has ever said those things to me. And no one’s
ever
made me believe them.

But when Jasper says something like that, with lust burning in his eyes and his cock buried deep inside me, there’s no option for me to doubt him.

He’s been driving me up a wall all this time, making me chase after him and leaving me panting. Now that we’ve finally crossed that hurdle, I want to prove I’m not the good girl he thinks I am.

I want to show him my naughty side.

And I want to
rock his world
.

The whole ride in the elevator I’m bouncing on my toes nervously, thinking back to that first elevator ride with Jasper.

My how far we’ve come.

Then I only imagined what those lips pressed against mine would feel like. Now I
know
.

I know the hungry forceful way he captures my mouth. I know how his tongue slides expertly against mine until I’m panting with need.

I know how his lips feel further south, too. It’s that thought that makes me rub my thighs together in anticipation, my heart fluttering with giddy excitement with each floor number that lights up.

And then, I’m at Jasper’s floor. The elevator doors open and I take a deep gulping breath as I step out.

Here goes nothing.

What do I have to worry about anyway? It’s not like I have to wonder if he’s attracted to me. Clearly we’ve covered those bases.

Many
many
times.

I stop in front of his door and hear music from inside; odd. Maybe he’s prepared a nice evening for us, I think with a little thrill.

There’s a little romantic streak in Jasper, I think. He has so many facets that I feel like I’m only beginning to uncover.

I knock on the door and swear I hear voices on the other side. Plural, voices.

The door swings open to reveal a gorgeous, tall redhead in nothing other than a skimpy bikini.

“False alarm, it’s not the champagne,” she says with a frown.

After a moment of sheer shock, I look past her to see three more just like her. All equally tall, slender, and drop-dead stunning.

I clutch the coat around me a little more tightly, feeling my insides turn to ice. Feeling suddenly inadequate and
less than
.

There could be an innocent explanation,
I try to reason.

The other girls all whine in disappointment and then Jasper’s pushing the redhead aside, shoving his way into the doorway.

“Susie! I wasn’t expecting you,” he says.

“Clearly,” I say, hoping to lace my words with as much venom as possible.

You were an idiot to think you were anything special to him.

Damn it, Susie, you know better.

I want to scream. I want to cry and curse and hit something. But I don’t do any of that.

Actually, I don’t do anything at all. I just stand there, numb.

One of the other girls comes up from behind Jasper and I see her manicured fingers slipping under his shirt, caressing him, “
Chef
,” she purrs in his ear, looking straight into
my
eyes, “we’re waiting for your instructions.”

I turn to walk away and Jasper calls after me, “Susie, wait.”

Don’t cry. Don’t do it. Don’t you dare cry.

I turn to him and try my best to steel my spine and look completely unaffected, “This is obviously a bad time. You seem to have your… hands full.”

Then I’m walking away, my eyes stinging with tears I
refuse
to shed.

I hear one or more of the girls making whining noises of protest, but Jasper’s footsteps are catching up, “Susie, will you just hold on a second, please?”

I turn to face him, regretting it the instant I do. Why does my heart have to lurch so painfully just from looking at him? And this sick feeling in my stomach just keeps getting worse with every word he says.

I want nothing more than to run far far away and forget I ever met Jasper Wild.

“What’s there to say Jasper? Clearly I made much more of this than I should have. I was the stupid one thinking there was something different, but you’re just being you. I get that.”

“Suzette,” he says, taking a step closer to me, but I’m still hugging myself, trying to edge my way to the elevator and out of his life, “those models are nothi—”

“
Models?
” I say an octave too high.

Of course they’re models.

Of course he’s not with one or two models, but with a whole fucking flock of them.

This isn’t anything new. This isn’t anything that he hasn’t been in the tabloids for before.

So why am I taking it so personally?

“It’s fine. I knew going into this that you were a manwhore. I expected to be cast aside. Hell, I even told myself
I
was using
you
for sex.” I shake my head with a sad laugh and finally reach the elevator call button.

“Don’t delude yourself, Suzette. You aren’t without fault. You only saw me as another rung in your career ladder,” he says, getting defensive.

What the hell is he upset about? Being caught?

It’s not like we were anything official. I can’t even be mad at him.

I’m mad at myself.

“And I was just a way for you to get more publicity,” I say, my chest aching with the angry words.

He crosses his arms in front of his chest, “That’s right, sweetheart. Make yourself the victim. You weren’t using me at all,” he jeers.

“Like it meant anything at all to you?”

The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them and once they’re hanging in the air between us I realize how hurt and vulnerable I sound. How desperate and clingy.

God damnit, I hate him for making me this way.

“No,” he says quickly, then “maybe,” then a frustrated groan, “I don’t fucking know, but I suppose it doesn’t matter now, does it? You’ve got everything for your story, don’t you?”

I grit my teeth; he’s so fucking stubborn. So infuriating. I can’t wait to be rid of him once and for all. How I could have
ever
thought I… that I felt…

Well, clearly that was a mistake.

“Yep. I have everything I’ll ever need from you.”

“I reckon you can find your own way out the door then, can’t you, luv?”

Right on cue, the elevator dings behind me and the door opens. I step inside, but not before one last look over my shoulder, “Goodbye, Jasper.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Jasper

“G
oodbye and good fucking riddance,” I say as the elevator doors close on Susie’s solemn face.

I fucking told Elliot I didn’t want any part of his schemes. I fucking told him to leave me out of it. To let my reputation fall to waste. What the fuck do I care? I’m a bloody
chef
, not a
movie star
.

Then I got home and they were all there
waiting
for me.

Elliot fucking sent
underwear models
to my hotel room. Who does something like that?

In different times, my answer would’ve been: One hell of a manager, that’s who.

But not in this time. Not after seeing the devastation in Suzette’s eyes.

I feel like I’ll never get that image out of my mind. It’s burned into my corneas for eternity.

But hell, am I supposed to feel guilty when she couldn’t even give me a bloody chance to explain? Would it have been so fucking hard to let me talk long enough to say ‘My agent is an arsehole’?

Apparently so.

So good riddance. Suzette is clearly unhinged. Far too emotional. Too quick to jump to conclusions and dismiss the evidence right in front of her fucking eyes.

I notice my hands are balled into fists at my side and then I feel a soft hand snake around my torso, “Jasper,” Annabelle — the sexiest ginger I’ve ever seen — whispers, “we need you.”

She certainly knows how to play her cards. I’d have fallen for it a few months ago. But not now.

Not with Suzette’s voice calling me a ‘manwhore’ playing over and over in my head.

Not when I can still see the tears shimmering in her eyes no matter how hard she’s trying to look strong.

Not when I still want to chase her across the bloody city and apologize just to hold her in my arms.

Not that she’d bloody listen to me. The hard-headed fool. Can’t she see that I…

You fucking prick. Let it go. She was using you.

Of course she was. I knew it all along, so why is it such a shock to me now?

Annabelle’s hand trails down my abs, just barely skimming my waistband.

As much as I’d love to give in and fuck Susie’s memory out of my mind — with four eager models, mind you — I can’t.

“Let’s take the fucking pictures so Elliot is off my arse,” I say, breaking free from her.

She gives me a little pout that I’m sure has brought many a man to his knees, but it does nothing for me.

I’m in an empty hollow daze as the models pose with me for their instatweets and facegrams. I’m not even sure how many pictures they’re taking. They’re all trying their best to rouse my interest in something more sexual, but I have nothing in me to give.

I gave it all and it was ripped to shreds.

“It’s been a lovely evening,” I say though it’s not even half-past eight, “but I think it’s time you gals leave.” I stand and open the door, sweeping my arm to shoo them.

Courtney, a dazzling blonde, gives me a simpering look, “You don’t really mean that, do you?”

I tsk my tongue once and wave them toward the door again, “‘Fraid so. I’m sure it’s a novel experience for all of you and I wish I could better savor being your first, but I just don’t give a flying fuck. Goodbye now.”

The looks they give me are a mixture of anger, disbelief, and completely insulted.

Who the fuck cares? They’re models. They’ll have three dozen people stroke their massive egos before daybreak.

Once the models are gone, I call Elliot and leave the most profanity-laden voicemail in all existence. It’s probably for the best that he didn’t actually answer.

It’s probably for the best that I don’t talk to
anyone
right now. Not in this frame of mind.

Still, I find myself trying to call Susie.

Of course she doesn’t answer. Why the hell would she?

She’s done with me. She said as much herself. I should be grateful. Usually the hardest part of these little affairs is extracting myself when they’ve run their course.

Suzette’s gone and done the hard work for me. Can’t be upset about that.

And the drink I’m pouring is celebratory, I tell myself. Not at all a product of my despair. Certainly not an attempt to get pissed enough to forget her smile, her laugh, her incredible moans.

The second drink is just to carry on the party. The party I’m having all by myself in my hotel room. Staring at the wall in silence with only my traitorous thoughts to keep me company.

Don’t let her go.

You miss her.

She’s different.

I drink until those voices shut up. Until I’ve convinced myself that this is for the best and it’s what Suzette bloody wants.

Christ help me, even as pissed and angry as I am, I still want to give the girl what she wants.