Mr. Big Ego (Dirty South Book 3)

by Kat Addams

  “Why do you have to stir the pot? What is it with you and drama? Don’t you have a micro-penis to go play with or some feathered friends to dirty talk to?” I asked Sara.

  “Oh, Will? He’s around here somewhere. Probably canoodling with Lisa or another one of your best friends.”

  “Your bitterness comes from jealousy. Did you know that? The way you talk to people—women especially—makes you even more unattractive. You have the face of a bulldog, the posture of an ape, the personality of a fourteen-year-old girl with too much time on her hands, and a penchant for drama. You have to tear everyone else down to make yourself look better, but hear this. You don’t look better. You’re still just an ugly cunt.” I bared my teeth and waited for her to respond. Fuck this night.

  “You’re so fired,” Sara snarled.

  “Is that so? You think Victor would choose you over me? He’s going to let me go just because I hurt your feelings?”

  “No. He’ll let you go because Steve is about to get eaten by those tigers, and it will be all your fault. I’ll make sure you are to blame for anything and everything that might go wrong here tonight.”

  My heart dropped into my stomach as I looked behind me and saw Steve barreling toward Victor and the tigers. I began to chase after him.

  “Steve! Steve!” I hurried to his side, pulling him back. “You can’t go over there. Those tigers have super-strict policies. You upset them, and they’ll tear you apart!”

  He jerked his arm away, glancing at the pacing tigers and then back to me. “I hope they bite your boyfriend’s head off.”

  Victor stood, smiling in the spotlight. He commanded the tigers to jump through a hoop and to perform tricks. Kelsey began clapping her hands and whistling at him. He looked at her and smiled that familiar Beaumont grin.

  “Yeah, I kind of hope they bite his head off too.”

  Ten

  Victor

  People finally began to file out of the arena after midnight. I stayed late, entertaining and relishing in the attention, but all of the excitement wore me out. I wanted to find Samantha and carry her off to my bed, but she was nowhere to be found. I knew from the way she’d glanced back and forth from Kelsey to me that I had a lot of explaining to do.

  “Lisa? Malcolm?” I interrupted the two clowns making out in the corner.

  “Sup, brother?” Malcolm slurred.

  “This is your brother?” Lisa straightened herself up and tried to appear sober. She failed miserably.

  “You don’t have to be all proffesh with him. Come on; wanna go to my place? We can stay in costume.” Malcolm stood up and pulled Lisa to her feet. They both swayed.

  “I’m calling you both an Uber. Separate ones.”

  “Oh, Dicktor”—hiccup—“I mean, Victor,” Lisa spoke up. “You don’t have to do that. I want to go clown around.” She laughed.

  “Dicktor? Ha! Freudian slip. I think that is what it’s called. You want the D.” Malcolm pulled the string on her chest, sending the petals spinning.

  “Whatever. I need to find Samantha. Lisa, have you seen her?” I asked.

  “She left hours ago. She wasn’t feeling well.” Hiccup. “Said her ex showing up made her sick. I think she had a panic attack in the restroom. It wasn’t pretty. I don’t remember much because I’m shit-faced.”

  “Her ex? You mean, my ex?”

  “You have an ex?” Lisa asked.

  “Holy shit. I thought that was Kelsey I saw.” Malcolm fell back onto the chair.

  “Who is Kelsey? I’m talking about William, Samantha’s ex.” Lisa sat back down beside Malcolm and leaned into him. They could barely stand up.

  I didn’t have time to deal with this shit.

  “William was here? Are you sure, or is this just drunk talking?” I couldn’t make sense of these two clowns.

  “Of course he was here. He was with Sara. Did you not talk to Samantha at all? She didn’t mention it?” Lisa asked.

  “No, I didn’t talk to her. I was … busy.” Even I winced when I said it out loud. I had been too busy wearing my mask and pretending yet again with a crowd of fake friends … and Kelsey. I’d never once stopped to make time for Samantha. I had been too caught up in being Voodoo Victor in the spotlight. I’d had no idea the Douche Who Must Not Be Named was here, and Sara, my assistant, was the one who’d brought him.

  Fuck!

  I took my phone out of my back pocket and texted Samantha.

  Me: Sam, where did you go? Are you asleep? Can I call?

  The clowns began to snore.

  Me: I need to apologize to you. I had no idea what was going on tonight. Please, when you get this, give me a call.

  I called my driver inside to help me with Lisa and Malcolm while we waited to make sure they got into their Uber. Everyone had already left, the arena was empty, and I was all alone. None of my fake friends were around to help me out when I needed them. Samantha would have stayed until the end if only I’d kept my fucking mask off.

  I woke up the next morning in a panic. All night, I’d dreamed of tigers and clowns and Kelsey sucking off my brother’s dick. My desire to run off with the circus was squashed. I never wanted to see a circus again.

  I reached over to the nightstand and grabbed my phone, checking for texts—still no answer from Samantha.

  I rubbed my eyes and crawled out of bed. I needed to see her. I had to make it up to her somehow. I’d fucked up big time. A gift card and rum wouldn’t win her back—not Samantha Masson.

  I punched in the number for my realtor friend.

  “Hey, Martin. Sorry to bother you so early. I need to buy a house. Now. Like, I need it done ASAP. I have the cash, but I want the key today. Can you help me with that? Push it through? You know I’m good for it.”

  “Sure. Give me the address. I’ll meet you there. I’ll pull some strings, but it will be pricey at this hour … on a weekend,” he sighed into the phone.

  I am such a fucking pain in the ass. Samantha is right. I’m an asshole-in-chief.

  I quickly looked up the address.

  “Really sorry, but thank you. I’ll pay whatever. Just get me this house.” I gave him the address and hung up.

  My mind raced as I readied myself for what could be either the best moment of my life or a dumb mistake. My bank account seemed endless, but dropping this much cash for a chick could be a stupid move. Except Samantha wasn’t just any chick. She was the first chick I could see myself settling down with. She was worth it, but after last night, I wasn’t worth her.

  My phone rang in my pocket, jolting me out of my head and back to the situation I had to confront. Samantha’s name showed on the screen.

  “Samantha! Finally. Thanks for calling.” I let out a sigh of relief.

  “Mmhmm,” she responded.

  “Hey, look. I’m so sorry. So, so sorry. I didn’t know William was there until Lisa told me, but you’d already left.”

  “I left right during your performance. You went the whole night without reaching out to me. You were too busy dazzling your guests, specifically Kelsey.”

  “I know. I fucked up. I was only trying to be a good host. But if I had known William was there—”

  “You wouldn’t have done anything. You were too busy being Victor Beaumont for Kelsey. The woman who you introduced me to as the help.”

  “That’s definitely not what I said.”

  “No, but you might as well have. You weren’t telling anyone who I really was or who I am to you, which I don’t even know. What am I to you, Victor?”

  “My love. You’re my love. You know that. I was confused when Kelsey showed up, and it was all a bit much. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to feel like I was ignoring you.”

  “Bullshit. You had to impress her. Show off. The great Victor Beaumont needed the attention, and I guess I just wasn’t enough for you.”

  I sighed, squinted my eyes, and pinched the bridge of my nose. This was harder than I’d thought.

  “I don’t want to do t
his over the phone. Can I come over later? We can talk then. I’d rather apologize in person. Please? We need to go over what happened. Do that vulnerability stuff and hash it out.”

  “I have nothing else to say.”

  Yeah, right. I knew women. She had a lot more to say, and she would say it for the next eight years.

  “Please. I love you. Please.” I, Victor Beaumont, did not beg. My palms grew sweaty.

  “Fine. But just a talk. Don’t expect any wrestling.”

  “No choke holds. Got it. I’ll be there around six. I need to finish a few business things. If that’s okay?”

  “Sure,” she huffed.

  “See you soon.” I hung up the phone and headed outside to my waiting limo.

  I didn’t know what was happening to me. I had never felt so heartbroken in my life. Not even with Kelsey. With Kelsey, I had been sad, but with Samantha, all I felt was empty. I hated that I’d hurt her. I didn’t even like myself right now. I could have done better, and I should have. All of that talk I had made about the masks coming off was my typical Beaumont bullshit. I believed in what I’d said, but I guessed I wasn’t ready to act on it.

  “Fuck!” I rubbed my temples as I settled into the back of the limo.

  “What’s that, Mr. Beaumont?” the driver asked before pulling out of my driveway. “Is there something the matter? Should I stay here?”

  “No, no. Keep going. I was just talking to myself.” I gave him the address to the Lakeview home where I definitely wouldn’t be raising my ten kids now.

  I am such a shitty turd head. I kept beating myself up.

  Kelsey had ruined it again, and this time, she’d had the help of Sara.

  Now, what would I do about Sara? She was just another problem I wasn’t ready to handle. She had been my assistant for years, and she knew exactly the way I liked everything. The pressure from work wasn’t near as stressful as it could have been if I hadn’t had Sara. But this time, she had taken her trouble too far. I put her in the back of my head. I’d deal with her later.

  I leaned my head back on the headrest and sighed.

  Finally, something good had happened to me. I’d had someone in my life who wasn’t fake, and I’d fucked it up. A diamond necklace wouldn’t save me from this one, but a house just might. I knew she loved that house, and my dumbass had tried to talk her out of it. Partly because, even when I had been drunk on champagne, I had known she would move farther away from me, and I didn’t like that. I’d used my business skills, the manipulative bullshit ones, to make her change her mind. My mask had been on the entire time then too. I curled my fingers into a fist and bit my knuckles.

  The familiar ding from a text vibrated in my pocket. I rolled my eyes when Malcolm’s name popped up on my screen.

  Malcolm: So, I guess the mixing business and pleasure thing is off the table?

  Me: Give it a rest.

  Malcolm: I’m asking for me. I don’t care what you do. I’m just asking because I got a clown in my bed, and I think I like her. My legs are tied to the bedposts, and I have one free arm. The other is wrapped around her. Even though I feel like death, this is the best wake-up ever.

  Shit! I remembered Lisa and my brother had gone home together. Yet another problem I didn’t want to deal with.

  Me: Do what you want. She technically only works for me, not you. Have at it. But I like her; she’s good. If you fuck this up and make her quit on me …

  Malcolm: She is good. So very good. I won’t fuck it up. She showed me things even I’d never seen, and I’d thought I’d seen it all. I think I’m in love.

  I read his text and cringed. I liked Lisa, and I did not like my brother. This needed to stop. I began to make a mental checklist of all of the problems that I would have to solve.

  “Mr. Beaumont?” the driver called from the front.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m going to take a different route. The lane is blocked up ahead. We will be a little late.”

  “Peachy,” I muttered. “It’s okay. I’ll manage.”

  Spoiler alert: I did not manage.

  I had spent most of the day at the bank with my realtor, my financial advisor, and my lawyer. All of them had told me I was an idiot. But had it changed my mind? No. I had signed the papers, forked over the cash, and bought a house for someone I’d been dating for only a few short weeks.

  Maybe I am an idiot.

  By the time I left the bank, I had pit stains from the sweat that was pouring off of me. It was the middle of winter, but I was roasting.

  “You don’t look so good,” my lawyer said.

  “I don’t feel so good either. But I gotta get this done—today.” I leaned against the limo and rested my forehead on the cold metal.

  “Are you okay? Well, that’s a dumb question. I know you’re not okay because you just paid cash for a house for some chick you’re boning. Listen, Victor. You are spiraling out, and you look like a truck ran over you, backed up, and ran over you again.”

  “Yeah, I suddenly feel like it too. But I’m fine. I need to eat or something.” My head began to pound. “And she’s not just some chick I’m boning. We love each other. Or at least, she did. Maybe not now, but hopefully, after I give her this house.”

  “If she needs a house to forgive whatever you did, you either fucked up big time, or she isn’t worth it. Be careful. I’ll start getting to work on the prenup.”

  I thought about what he’d said. Samantha was worth it, and I had fucked up big time. Maybe I was going overboard. My body shook as a wave of chills overtook me. That didn’t make sense. I was burning up.

  “Ready yet?” My driver was standing behind me, waiting for me to move so he could open the door and let me in.

  I patted the key in my pants pocket.

  “Yes. Ready. Head to Samantha’s, please.” I collapsed into the backseat, stripped off my shirt, and lay down. My world was spinning out of control.

  Samantha

  I checked the time on my phone. I hadn’t heard from Victor since his call this morning. I didn’t want to see him or hear from him. I only wanted my check, and I hoped that was what he would be bringing by. Apologies meant nothing to me at this point. He had kept his mask on, ignored me, and left me out of his circus … or circle. Good. I didn’t want to be a part of it. I could kick myself for letting him into my life. I had known better.

  I held the phantom necklace up and let it dangle in the air before making it fall to the table. “So much for this brief fling.”

  I heard a knock on the door and pushed myself up to my feet. My heartbeat throbbed through my ears. I thought he would be here later, but I needed to get this over with anyway. I preferred to rip Band-Aids off instead of slowly pulling them off.

  I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

  Victor stood, slumped against the wall. He wore his shirt on inside out, and his hair stuck straight up in the back.

  “What in the world? Did you just wake up?” I asked.

  “I fell asleep in the car. I’m not feeling too great. I won’t be long. I know you probably don’t want to see me still. I just wanted to give you something.” He coughed hard before continuing, “I thought it might make your life easier, and maybe you can see how much I love you.” He took out a tiny envelope and shook it open, letting a key fall into his palm.

  “What’s that? Key to your heart?” I smirked.

  Victor Beaumont didn’t have a heart. Not after the other night.

  “No, you already have that. But … what you don’t have … is a key to your own home.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s yours. That house you showed me. The one where your ten kids are going to dirty up the white walls.” He held the key out for me to take.

  “You bought me a house?” My voice rose.

  “Yes, I thought you wanted that house.” His hands fell limp to his sides.

  “You bought me a house,” I repeated the words, slower this time.

>   “Yes … I’m getting the impression that wasn’t okay with you though.” He coughed again, this time making his eyes bulge.

  “You can’t just buy your way in and out of things—especially this mess. You bought me the leggings. You bought me a necklace. You bought me a house, for crying out loud! A house! You can’t just go buying people houses! Especially when you’re trying to buy your way out of your major fuckup. I don’t work that way. I can’t be bought with money. What the fuck, Victor?”

  I threw my hands in the air and tried to meet his gaze, but he wouldn’t look at me. He stared down at his shoes—his leather shoes that had probably cost as much as my last paycheck.

  “I’m not trying to buy you off. I fucked up. I know I did. I’m sorry, Samantha. I was trying to make you happy and take some stress off of you. I know how much you want to move, and I know how hard you’ve been working on getting this house. So, I bought it. It’s paid for. All of it. And it’s yours.” He held the key out to me again.

  I stood with my arms crossed and refused to take his key.

  “Please take it. I don’t know how else to apologize. You’re mine, and I’m yours, remember?”

  “It sure didn’t seem that way when I needed you. It seemed like you were yours. You, you, you. It’s all about you. I was sitting there, triggered as fuck, with my ex and your perfect little assistant as they mocked me, and you were over there, trying to prove how awesome you were to your shitbag ex. Why? What for? Why couldn’t you have just said fuck it and grabbed me? We could have had a good time. We could have taken each other’s minds off of those two assholes, but instead, you had to play King Beaumont and razzle-dazzle everyone while you left me out in the cold. You didn’t even introduce me as anything other than your employee. Your bitch. And did I mention, I was triggered as fuck? I’d told you she wasn’t going to let you go! I’d told you Sara would stop at nothing.”

  “I know you did. I was selfish and a coward.”

  “Does she still work for you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well then, you’re still selfish and a coward.”