by Nia Arthurs
THE BAD BOY’S WOMAN
Hidden Masks Book 2
NIA ARTHURS
First published in Belize, C.A. 2019
Copyright © Nia Arthurs
Cover Design: Oliviaprodesign
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be circulated in any writing of any publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
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CONTENTS
Prologue
1. MYSTERIES IN THE CLUB
2. JEALOUSY HAS NO COLOR
3. WHAT YOU DID LAST NIGHT
4. INTO HIS WORLD
5. WILD REVELATIONS
6. MY DAD CAN’T KNOW
7. WHAT THE STORM LEFT BEHIND
8. STUPID LITTLE HATS
9. MUSIC IS A DEAD END
10. THE TALK I CAN’T HAVE
11. FELINE ROBBERY
12. HIS SEXY ACCOMPLICE
13. THE LIES WE IGNORE
14. FIRE RAGING IN ME
15. HERO TO ALL BUT HER
16. CHASING AFTER YOU
17. THE EARTH SHIFTS
18. WHY SHE LOVES HIM
19. THE END OF MYSELF
20. WHAT HAPPENS IN THE PAST…
21. UNRAVELING
22. MY MIND WON’T CHANGE
23. HOMELESS HEARTBREAKER
24. WHISPERS IN NEON
25. A KISS THAT MEANT NOTHING
26. WE MEET AGAIN
27. UNOFFICIALLY BACK TOGETHER
28. LOVE IS
A Word From The Author
Other Books by this Author
Sneak Peek
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
PROLOGUE
WORDS YOU’D NEVER SAY
Monique
SOMETIMES I WISHED my boyfriend were an orphan.
Tonight, I’d stormed into his room, searching frantically for any signs of life. Darkness thickened around me. Pain stifled the air like a toxic perfume. The silence blared louder than any wild music ever could.
My heart thrummed.
Something isn’t right.
In my head, I replayed the voicemail I received twenty minutes ago.
“Monique, I need you.”
That was it. Four desperate words and then the heartless click of the line going dead. But I’d heard all James left unsaid. Every tremble in his voice, every breath, every ragged gasp had me reeling with fear.
So I ran to him.
Now I was here, picking through this room that smelled of blood and brokenness.
“James?” I croaked, my gaze slicing through the shadows. “Are you in here?"
I heard a shuffle.
There by the bed.
A sliver of moonlight struggled past the grimy curtains that covered the heavily barred window. The thin ray of light revealed a figure on the bed. He wore nothing but a pair of low-slung jeans. His back was lean and pale, quivering in the moonlight. His feet were bare.
I edged closer. Something inside me was reluctant to identify him. To claim him. This shell of a man wrapped together by darkness and blood was not the man I adored.
The temptation to back away overwhelmed me, but I forced myself forward.
I had to keep going.
“J-James?”
The bed creaked as he turned. His eyes flashed, burning into my own. I could feel it even though I couldn’t see it. His eyes… they called to me. Like a magnet drawing steel. Like a broken heart reaching for its other half.
My fear slipped away, smooth as silk. I flew to the bed and knelt beside it. The tiles were ice cold. I could feel the wetness seeping through my jeans.
“What happened?” I demanded.
“Nothing.”
“Liar.” My hand shot out, frisking the air until it landed on a nightstand. A hard base hit my palm. A lamp. I walked my fingers up the porcelain, straining to find the chain so I could flick the light on.
James snatched my wrist.
I froze.
In the dimness, I could see that he was now sitting up. His ridged stomach was curved as he arched toward me. A lock of thick black hair flopped over his pale forehead. His warm breath hit my face.
“Don’t,” he said.
“Why?”
No answer.
“I asked you a question,” I insisted. “Why can’t I turn the lights on?”
“Let me hold you.”
“James—”
“Please.”
“But…”
The rest of my protests were lost to the wind as he hauled me on the bed with him. He snaked a hand around my neck and pulled my head in to press a kiss to my temple. I was so close I could feel his heartbeat, skittering out of control.
Was that because of me? Or something else?
“You’re shaking,” I mumbled.
“I’m cold.” He slung one leg over mine and adjusted his chin over my head. “That’s why I called you here. To keep me warm.”
I pushed at him, but he didn’t budge.
I wiggled my hands up from where they were trapped between our two bodies and put more effort into shoving him away this time.
He grunted. “What?”
“I want to see you.”
“You see me everyday. Now stop wiggling or things will get a lot warmer in here.”
I stopped immediately.
James chuckled.
I held still, wavering between my need for answers and my desire to comfort him with or without them.
The silence lingered. Stretched. But it had softened somewhat with the strains of life that sputtered in the room—James’s quiet breathing, the steady hum of electricity, the distant whir of cars from the street.
“I love you,” James whispered.
My eyelashes flew up.
Every nerve skittered to life as my brain scrambled to understand.
No, James wouldn’t say that. We’d been dating for months and I never expected to hear those three words. He’d made it clear. Flowery declarations in general, but that one in particular, held little weight with him.
And that was fine. James showed me his feelings in other ways and I had learned to be satisfied. I believed actions spoke louder than words anyway.
I pushed up, slightly leaning over him so my hair dangled an inch from his nose. “What did you say?”
His eyes bore into mine, serious and grim. “I love you, Monique.”
Something is wrong.
The thought chased away any romance the moment held. I closed the distance between us and kissed him, latching onto his lips and pressing with force. He kissed me back, his eyes gliding closed.
I took note of it and flung my hand out toward the lamp. My fingers grasped the chain, the tiny metal beads. I heard the whip of the air as I pulled.
The lamp clicked.
The chain bounced.
There was light.
I rolled away from James just as he stopped kissing me. He looked shocked as he realized that I’d played him. A mixture of desire and frustration glimmered in his eyes. Eyes that I could see very well now.
Along with the rest of him.
As my gaze trekked his body, I gasped. Bruises swamped his pale shoulders, his muscular chest, his side. A frightened whimper flew from my lips.
What kind of monster had done this?
Resignedly, James sat up. Ran a hand through his hair. In a gentle tone, he tried to comfort me. “I told you not to turn on the light.”
“Why aren’t you in the hospital?”
“I’m fine.”
“We need to rework your definition of ‘fine’, James.” I glared. “Who did this to you? Was it your dad?”
“Monique…”
“What?” I snapped. My chest heaved; insides burned with righteous anger. “What stupid excuse will you give me for why this is okay, James?”
“I love you.”
Irritation swept through me. “This isn’t the time for jokes.”
“I’m not joking.” He scooted over, his gaze locked on my lips. He drew me to him and kissed me softly. “Marry me.”
“That’s not funny.”
He ran his thumb from my temple to my cheek. “I never thought I’d be able to say those words to anyone. But you changed my mind. You changed me. There’s no going back. I love you. I’ll love only you for the rest of my life.”
“Are you crazy?”
James frowned. “I’m being serious.”
“So am I.” When he didn’t respond, I squealed. “James, we’re in high school.”
He took my hands and swept his thumb across the back of my knuckles. “So? I know what I feel. I could love you forever, Monique.”
“So can I, but there’s a lot going on right now.”
“There will always be something going on.”
“Maybe in the future—”
He moved closer. “Let’s create the future we want. Today.”
I studied his face. My heart throbbed.
James tipped his head as if asking ‘well?’
I sucked in a deep breath. “My answer is…”
1
MYSTERIES IN THE CLUB
Four Months Earlier
Monique
CLUB ELITE WAS a lot of things—dark, smoky, and loud—but ‘elite’? Not so much.
Tonight, the place was packed. Lights flashed with the rhythm of the music, turning everything into segmented and broken glimpses in time.
But one light held steady.
The one above James Sawyer.
He stood on the stage. One man and his guitar. His dark hair was combed partly to the front, adding to his alluring aura. He wore a loose grey shirt and ripped jeans. I could see his smirk of satisfaction from here.
That expression was reserved for two things—music and me.
But the audience didn’t know that, and I was pretty sure every girl in this room thought James Sawyer was flirting with her. He just… had that effect.
The song he belted through the mike was a catchy pop number with a rock undertone. The girls spilling around the raised platform at the front of the club jumped to the beat. I saw their pale fists pumping as they sang along with him.
A disturbance near the table yanked my attention away from James. My eyes slid over the shadowy expanse of Club Elite.
The room was separated into two sections. A long railing divided the bar from the small stage and dance floor. I was sitting in the main room. Tall tables were littered as far as the eye could see. In the shadows, couples clung to each other and sipped from shot glasses, bobbing their head to James’s music.
“Excuse me. Move, would you!” a familiar voice cried. Women in slinky dresses and high heels stumbled aside as Angie burst out of the human traffic jam and strode toward me with a tray in hand.
Angie had dark skin that made her hard to spot in the shadows. The golden clips in her braids fought to be seen above the glare caused by her sparkly silver mini-dress.
“Here we go,” Angie plunked two mugs before me and rubbed the back of her neck. “Next time, you’re getting the drinks.”
“There’s no way I would have passed for twenty-one. Besides, somebody had to protect our table.”
“True.” She slid into the stool and hooked the spikes of her six-inch heels over the rungs. I blew out a breath as I stared at her shoes. Angie had gone all out with her outfit tonight, wearing a mini skirt, crop top and stilettos.
In my blouse and jeans, I looked like her dowdy grandmother.
James ended his song and the roar of approval that shot through the building made me cover my ears.
Angie winced and leaned toward me, yelling to be heard above the noise. “Look at all those girls.”
“You mean the ones in front of the stage?”
“Yeah. Doesn’t this bother you?” She scrunched her slim nose. “Smells like lust in here.”
“I thought it smelled like cheap perfume and desperation.”
“Same thing.”
I laughed.
Angie hunkered over the table and sipped her beer. I slid the other mug over to her since I had no interest in drinking. She arched an eyebrow in thanks before saying, “So this really doesn’t affect you? At all?”
I glanced at the women in front of the stage again. “Not really.”
“Girl, you’re more secure than I could ever be.”
“It’s not that the girls don’t bother me. I just… trust him.”
“Still, if I were in your place, I’d be too jealous to think straight. You realize every time he goes out and performs he’ll have to meet these heffas?” She pursed her lips. “They’ll be flinging themselves at him, flirting, trying to take his clothes off. It’ll be a miracle if he doesn’t—” She caught my look. “I mean, of course. You have nothing to worry about.”
“Thanks for your vote of confidence.”
She raised her beer and tipped her head so her large hoop earrings smacked her cheek. “Anytime.”
At that moment, the lights dimmed and the music quieted. James grabbed a stool from the back of the stage and pulled it closer to the edge. He climbed on top, one foot straddling the rung and the other flat on the ground.
“Everyone enjoying themselves tonight?”
The enthusiastic response of his fans threatened to blow the roof off the building.
James chuckled into the mike as he adjusted the stand and settled his guitar in his lap.
I’m pretty sure most of the women in the room just swooned.
“A few weeks ago, I wrote a song for someone very special,” James said.
The crowd cheered.
“My girlfriend.”
The applause dimmed significantly and I even heard a few boos.
James looked out over the crowd. Our eyes connected.
I smiled.
He smiled back. “It’s called ‘Hidden Masks’.”
He’d already played this one for me. I’d loved it, of course. It was a song about his feelings. What girl wouldn’t be touched? But listening to James serenade me in private was a whole different ballgame than listening along with a crowd.
His fans settled down as he opened his mouth and sang the first verse.
The ballad was different from his usual, edgy set and I found myself glancing around to check the club’s response to it.
Most eyes were closed.
Some were rocking.
But everyone was vibing with him.
The microphone picked up James’s voice and amplified it. The guitar echoed in the room. I couldn’t help but smile as I leaned forward and soaked in the music. James was white, but his voice was deep chocolate. So were his eyes that glittered in the light.
Beautiful.
He sang with his whole heart and then ended with the first line of the chorus, “I don’t have to wear a mask when I’m with you.”
He followed that up with a complicated riff and then bowed his head.
It was over, but no one talked. No one moved. We were too busy soaking in every lingering note. My heart swelled with pride. James could more than just sing. Hi
s voice made you feel.
It was incredible.
A beat of silence passed.
Two.
When I feared my instincts were wrong and everyone really hated the song, a smattering of applause broke out. More joined it. Soon, a rush of applause swept the front of the room and rode a wave that flowed all the way to the doors.
James grabbed his guitar and bowed before trotting offstage.
A DJ replaced him and, soon, rowdy EDM music blasted through the air.
“Wow,” Angie said.
I had to lean close to hear her. “What did you say?”
“I said ‘wow’. James was amazing. I had no idea he could sing.”
“Angie, I’ve told you that a million times.”
“Yeah, but you’re his girlfriend. You have to hype him up even if he sucks.”
“Well, it’s a good thing he doesn’t suck.”
Angie snorted into her mug and flashed me a mischievous look. “We should have recorded everything tonight and sent it to Harley. Guy would have been pissed.”
I rolled my eyes. Harley, my best friend since kindergarten, had never been a fan of my boyfriend. Not since James allegedly ‘stole’ his position in our high school’s most popular band last summer.
Harley and James had formed a grudging alliance, but there were some topics that were off limits. James’s success over Harley’s band was one of them.
“Just finish your drinks so we can leave. This music is giving me a headache.”
Angie grinned but obediently tipped her glass back and guzzled it down, reaching out for the next one. My phone vibrated. I plucked it out of my purse and swiped the screen.
I had a new message.
JAMES: Coming soon. Just checking in with the manager.
I smiled and typed out a reply.
MONIQUE: Take your time.
A shadow blocked my light.
I glanced up and found a guy standing in front of our table. He had straight brown hair, brown eyes and a thin, aristocratic face. The T-shirt he wore was a size too large for his lanky frame. A golden bracelet glittered on his wrist.
He was handsome in a shrewd-ish kind of way.
And he was staring right at me.
“Do I know you?” I asked.
