Falling Into Love with You (The Hate-Love Duet Book 2)

by Rowe, Lauren

  I consider my answer for a moment and realize I like and respect Colin too much not to answer him with complete honesty. “I don’t think the word ‘regardless’ is in my vocabulary anymore, in this context, because I can’t imagine a world where I wouldn’t want Savage. Even though he did something today that pissed me off and made me think I’m an idiot to want him, I still do. In fact, it’s impossible for me to imagine wanting anyone else. So, given that, it’s pretty hard for me to tell you if I’d be attracted to you, regardless of my feelings for Savage, when the truth is my heart and soul and body belong to him.”

  “Wow,” Colin says, looking shocked.

  “Before you tell me I’m a fool,” I add quickly, “I already know that. My brain knows this won’t end well for me, but I guess I need to let it run its course, or my heart will never give up on him. Never get over him.” Tears prick my eyes again and I wipe them. “Shit. My makeup is going to be a mess.”

  Colin pats the couch next to him and I scootch over again, grateful to let him comfort me. I lean into Colin’s open arms, saying, “Thank you for telling me everything, Colin.” But midsentence, as the second half of my comment falls out of my mouth and my body falls into Colin’s waiting arms, Savage bursts into the room, his dark eyes blazing and bugging out.

  “Savage,” I blurt, leaping off the couch to standing.

  “What the fuck?” he blurts. He looks between Colin and me. “Laila?”

  “Nothing happened! I was upset. Colin is a friend who offered a shoulder to cry on.”

  “Yeah, he did,” Savage spits out, looking murderous. He marches toward Colin, looking homicidal, his fists clenched. And in reply, Colin leaps to standing next to me, ready to defend himself. I lurch in front of Savage, blocking his progress, and, thankfully, he stops and shifts his weight from foot to foot, his energy like a live wire that’s come loose and is now zapping wildly on the ground.

  “You hit on her,” Savage barks at Colin. “When you knew she was with me!”

  “I thought your relationship was fake,” Colin says. “And by the way, she turned me down. So now what, Savage? You’re gonna beat the shit out of me for taking my shot? I didn’t beat the shit out of you when you fucked my woman, but you’re gonna throw down when I’ve done nothing but give yours a shoulder to cry on?” Savage’s dark eyes shift to mine, looking guilty as hell, as Colin adds, “Maybe you should be more worried about why Laila needed a shoulder to cry on, than about who offered her that shoulder, you dumbass.”

  Savage looks like a caged animal as I flash him an enraged look. He fucked Colin’s girlfriend? And the man has the nerve to freak out about me talking to Colin?

  “There you are!” a male voice says, as Savage opens his mouth to say God-knows-what, and thank God, Kendrick appears a second later and grabs Savage’s tense shoulders. “Come on, man. Don’t do this.”

  Savage shakes off Kendrick’s grip and looks at me plaintively, like he’s on the cusp of a total and complete breakdown. “Do you want him?” he rasps out, motioning to Colin. “Is that why you didn’t want me? Have you wanted Colin all along?”

  “No!” I yell. “Colin is my friend, as I’ve told you many times—the same way Ruby is yours!”

  “Yeah, well, I’ve never dragged Ruby into a room alone so I could hit on her!”

  “Fuck you,” Colin says. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “And neither did I!” Savage booms. He returns to me. “I was trying to help you this morning by inviting Charlie over. I don’t understand why you’re—”

  “Of course, you don’t understand!” I shout, anger flashing through my nerve endings. “Because you have the emotional intelligence of an amoeba and the impulse control of a gnat! Now, please, go, Savage. I need to wash my face and touch up my makeup before Colin and I start shooting with my team in five minutes. Kendrick, please.” I point toward the door, nonverbally begging Kendrick to drag his best friend out. “I’m in charge of babysitting this boy’s stupid ass, so if he disrupts the shooting schedule again, that’s on me.”

  “Come on, Savage,” Kendrick says, gripping Savage’s arm. “Leave her alone to do her job.”

  Thankfully, Savage lets Kendrick guide him toward the door. But before Savage exits, he shakes off Kendrick’s grip, turns around, and flashes me one last tortured look, followed by a white-hot, murderous one at Colin. And then, Adrian Savage, the man who can’t get out of his own fucking way, turns around and stalks out the door . . . but not before leaving a lovely parting gift for me: a fist-sized hole in the wall next to the doorframe.

  Twenty-One

  Savage

  “You had sex with Colin’s girlfriend?” Laila shouts, the minute the door closes behind us in the SUV. Draft Day is in the can. Mentor Day is in the can. And now, finally, we’re alone and headed home to our fake love nest to begin a much-needed three-week break from shooting—time I’ve been eager to spend with Laila. First, in Chicago, then, in Cabo, and finally, back at home in LA for a week of relaxation while the show begins airing. But after today, I’m not sure Laila is still planning to spend a minute of the break with me, let alone travel to see my family or drink piña coladas with me on a Mexican beach. I’m not even sure if Laila is planning to continue living with me for the remainder of the season, even for the sake of our written contracts.

  In response to Laila’s angry question about Colin’s “girlfriend,” I call out to our two usual escorts at the front of the car and ask them to turn up the music—and the minute the volume in the car ratchets up enough to swallow my voice, I reply to Laila. “No, I didn’t have sex with Colin’s girlfriend. I had sex with Colin’s ex-girlfriend.”

  Laila scoffs. “Gee, I wonder why they broke up.”

  “It had nothing to do with me. They’d already broken up when I got with her.”

  “Colin said ‘I didn’t beat you up when you fucked my girlfriend.’”

  “No, he said, ‘when you fucked my woman.’ Which means, apparently, Colin thinks his single ex was off-limits to me and every man on the planet—a concept I’m sure you strongly disagree with, as an independent, sex-positive woman.”

  “He didn’t mean ‘every man on the planet,’ Savage. He meant you. I’m sure Colin considered you a friend when you nailed his girlfriend.”

  “Ex-girlfriend. And no. Colin and I travel in the same circles, but we’ve never been anything more than acquaintances. Ask any of my actual friends, Kendrick or Kai or Titus, ask Fish or C-Bomb, and they’ll all tell you I’m as loyal as the day is long. Laila, I stepped aside from hitting on you—despite my huge crush on you—for a friend. But with Colin’s ex, I was supposed to say, ‘No, no, sorry, I can’t have sex with you because you dated a guy whose band is also signed to my label?’ Give me a break.”

  Laila pouts but doesn’t reply.

  “They’d been broken up for a full week,” I mutter. “She was a free woman.”

  “A week?” Laila shouts. “Savage! You were her rebound fuck? No wonder Colin is pissed at you.”

  “Aaah. I see what this is about. You’re jealous you’re not the only woman who’s enjoyed my services as a rebound fuck. You wanted to be the only one, eh?”

  Laila grunts with anger. “No, Adrian, this isn’t about me being jealous of Colin’s ex. This is about me realizing I’ve ignored way too many red flags with you. This is about me realizing I can’t trust a word you say!”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “You looked me dead in the eye at Reed’s house and told me Colin didn’t like you because you’re buddies with C-Bomb! You said Colin must be taking Dax’s side in their beef. And then you had the audacity to chew me out in Reed’s laundry room for supposedly flirting with Colin, while not bothering to mention to me, ‘Oh, gee, come to think of it, Colin might be pissed at me because I banged his ex-girlfriend, rather than because he’s siding with his best friend in a stupid beef with C-Bomb’!”

  “I didn’t lie to you. I just didn’t tell you
the whole truth because I didn’t want you thinking Colin was flirting with you to retaliate against me.”

  “Oooooh, so let me get this straight. You lied to my face—oh, sorry, ‘didn’t tell me the whole truth’ to my face—in order to protect my sensitive feelings?”

  “I shaved the truth a bit to protect your feelings, yes.”

  “And once again, you prove, without a doubt, you’re a liar. The truth is you wanted to get laid that night, and you figured telling me about the time you railed Colin’s ex a week after they’d broken up wasn’t going to help your cause.”

  I pull a face that concedes she’s got a point. “I suppose it could’ve been that, at least in part.”

  Laila throws up her hands. “See what I mean? I can’t believe a word out of your mouth!”

  “I just copped to wanting to get laid that night!” I shout. “Jesus, Laila! I feel like you’re looking for things to be mad at me about, when what you’re really mad about is Charlie, for reasons I can’t comprehend, since I only invited him over to help you tap into your inner bitch! Which, by the way, you did—brilliantly, all day long. You’re welcome. But guess what? You can stop being a bitch now, Laila, now that the cameras are off!”

  Laila gasps, and I immediately regret my comment. Come on, Savage. You’re trying to make amends here. Not fan the flames.

  “You ‘can’t comprehend’ the reason I’m mad about Charlie?” Laila booms. “Okay, then, amoeba boy, let me explain it to you in terms your amoeba-sized brain can understand. You’re the one who said we should put the past behind us and press the reset button. You’re the one who said we should forget the past and move forward—so, that’s what I’ve tried to do, with all my might. And you have no idea the mental gymnastics it took to do that! But I did! And then, what did you do? The boy who can’t help self-sabotaging couldn’t resist dredging up the past this morning, despite what he suggested we do, because he couldn’t resist finding out, once and for all, if I’d let Charlie plow me during the tour!”

  “Oh, my fucking God. Laila, I already knew about Charlie’s family situation when I asked him to come to the house. Kendrick told me about Charlie’s husband yesterday. I only invited Charlie over when you started freaking out about your job being on the line. I thought me supposedly finding out that Charlie is married and gay, right in front of you, would give you something to chew on during today’s shoot. And I was right about that!”

  Laila shakes her head. “Don’t you see? You bringing Charlie into our new life, after we explicitly agreed to forgive and forget the past, made me realize you’re still that guy from the tour, the one who wanted groupies more than me, no matter how much I try to—"

  “I didn’t want groupies, Laila! I only wanted you. All those groupies were a set-up! I thought you knew that. The same with that waitress in New York. I never even called her, Laila! I only got her number to piss you off, because I was so jealous of watching you and Malik!”

  To my shock, tears prick Laila’s eyes. “I saw you bringing a groupie to your room—and that was most definitely not a set-up.”

  “What? Where?”

  “The fact that you don’t even know which city I’m referring to isn’t a good sign, Savage.”

  My heart is stampeding. “Laila, no. Whatever you saw, it wasn’t what you thought. Women throw themselves at me, all the time, but that doesn’t mean I catch them. I wasn’t with anyone but you on that tour, Laila. Nobody but you.”

  She scoffs and a dam of panic and despair breaks inside me. I’ve been so happy with this girl. So fucking happy. How is everything falling apart so fast and suddenly?

  “What happened today?” I shout, my frustration and panic boiling over. “Do you want Colin, so you’re trying to get me to break up with you? Is that it?”

  She wipes away a tear. “No. I’ve just realized I’m in way too deep with you. At your core, you’re still the same guy from the tour. The Beast from before the snowball fight. I’ve realized I need to slow this thing down before I get myself really, really hurt.”

  “I’m not going to hurt you, Laila.”

  I try to grab her hand, but she yanks it away.

  “You already did!” she screams. “I told you about my father! I told you how scary and horrible he was! I asked you not to punch holes in walls or—”

  “Oh, God, Laila. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. That was so stupid of me.”

  “How could you do that, when I told you how much that kind of thing triggers me?”

  I open and close my mouth. But there’s no excuse. No words I could possibly say to make it better.

  “You did it to hurt me!” she says. “Plain and simple. So, tell me, Savage, why would I want to be with a man who wants to hurt me?”

  My heart feels like it’s physically shattering. I didn’t plan to punch that wall. I didn’t make a conscious decision to do it. But I suppose it’s only fair to say I knew, deep down, somewhere inside me, that punching that wall would scare the shit out of Laila. And I did it, anyway. Did I punch that wall to push her away, to make her leave me now, rather than later, when losing her would wreck me all that much more? Did I subconsciously do it to see if doing the unthinkable would make Laila finally leave me, the same way I did horrible shit at first with Mimi, to see if there was something, anything, that would make her leave me, too? For fuck’s sake, did I set that kitchen fire at my apartment in Phoenix on purpose, like my mother always says I did? Despite everything, despite all the love Mimi has given to me, all the lessons she’s tried to teach me, was it all for nothing because, at my core, I’m my father’s son—and always will be?

  “I’m sorry, Laila,” I choke out, my emotions hanging on by a thread. “I’d never harm a hair on your head. I’d die to protect you. I’d do anything for you. But you’re right: punching that hole in the wall was unforgivable.”

  Her lower lip trembles. “I don’t feel physically threatened by you, Adrian. But I do think you need some sort of therapy. Anger management, maybe. You made a promise to me and you should have been able to control yourself and keep it.”

  I clench my jaw. My knee-jerk reaction is to reply, “Well, if I need therapy, then you do, too, sweetheart, because you’re definitely a few bricks shy of a load.” But, luckily, I’m not stupid enough to give voice to my honest thoughts. My next thought is, “Please forgive me, Laila. I’ll do whatever it takes to make you stay with me. To make you happy. To make you love me.” But those words don’t come out, either.

  “For what it’s worth,” I mumble. “I think my brain didn’t connect the promise I made to you at the house to your dressing room. It’s stupid, I know, but I think maybe not being at the house made me forget . . .” I stop talking, based on the incredulity I’m seeing on Laila’s face, and whisper, “Regardless, I made a promise to you and I broke it. I’m sorry.”

  Laila holds my gaze for a long beat and then looks out the window on her side of the car at passing traffic, effectively letting me know this conversation is over, and that she emphatically does not forgive me.

  I pick up my phone and murmur, “I need to call Mimi, before it gets too late. I’ve missed bedtime the last three nights.” I pause, hoping the mention of Mimi’s name will prompt Laila to tell me if she’s still planning to come to Chicago with me tomorrow. But when Laila doesn’t say a word, but continues silently staring out her side of the car, I add, “While I’m talking to Mimi, I’d appreciate you pretending you still like me. My grandma still thinks we’re blissfully happy and I’d like her to keep thinking it for Christmas—and for however long she’s got.”

  Laila looks away from the window, rolling her eyes. “I won’t scream at you or flip you off while you’re speaking to your ailing grandmother, Adrian, if that’s what you think. And you know why? Because I’ve got this weird thing called impulse control. Ask a therapist about it sometime.”

  Annoyance floods me. I think, “Yeah, Laila. You’re a paragon of maturity.” But thanks to my impulse control, I don’t
say it. After taking a few deep breaths, I press the button to FaceTime my cousin—and the minute Sasha picks up, even before saying hello, she says, “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” I reply. “We just got done with a long shooting day. Can you put Mimi on, so I can sing to her? I’m in a bad mood and not wanting to chat.”

  “Mimi’s already asleep. I texted you an hour ago to let you know it was now or never.”

  I rub my face with my palm. “I didn’t see your text. I was shooting and didn’t have my phone.”

  “It’s okay. You’ll be here tomorrow.”

  I glance at the time on the dashboard of the SUV. “She fell asleep an hour ago? That’s awfully early, Sasha.”

  “The move has been exhausting for her.”

  I furrow my brow with concern. “But she likes the house, right?”

  My cousin smiles broadly. “She loves the house. Of course, she does, Adrian. You gave her an incredible gift. Mimi says she sees Jasper in every nook and cranny.”

  My heart skips a beat. “I can’t wait to carry her around from room to room and hear all her stories.”

  “Mimi is so excited you’re coming. That’s all she’s been talking about—getting to see you and Laila, in person.”

  I glance at my fake girlfriend next to me to gauge her reaction to Sasha’s comment, and instantly surmise Laila is feeling conflicted. “Hey, I need to put you on hold for a sec, Cuz,” I say, before muting the call. I look at Laila. “Are you still coming to Chicago tomorrow? If not, I need to give Sasha a heads-up so she can break the bad news to Mimi when she wakes up in the morning.”

  Laila pauses and I hold my breath, bracing myself. “I’ll come,” she finally decides. “Mimi didn’t say we should leave the past behind us and then turn around and invite Charlie to the house, and Mimi didn’t punch a hole in the wall, after promising she wouldn’t.”

  “Thank you.”