The Bad Boy Wants Me: A Bad Boy Romance

by Georgia Le Carre

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Tori

  Since Britney’s birthday party is no longer to be a surprise, she decides to hold it a week later. Right after Alkaline’s concert in Milan, in fact. The concert is on a Friday and the party will be that Saturday night at the Hunter residence. The plan is for everybody to fly back for it.

  The days leading up to the concert are a busy time for Cash. He is at the recording studio a lot working on their new album. He works from mid-morning to late at night or even the early hours of the morning, so he sends a car around to take me to his apartment to make sure that I am already there by the time he comes in.

  Even though he would have been working all day and sometimes looks dead on his feet, he will still be full of pent up energy. Most nights he falls on me like a starving animal. After that he is always hungry.

  ‘Feel like some Chinese food?’ he asks that day.

  ‘It’s already one o’clock. I’m going to get fat eating so late every night,’ I grumble.

  ‘No way. You eat barely enough to exist.’

  ‘I eat a lot during the day, thank you. It’s all right for you. You’re practicing dance moves all day long and burning up energy performing at concerts, but eating at this time of the morning is bad news for someone whose idea of exercise is dipping a couple of chicken nuggets into barbeque sauce.’

  He grins and hands me the leaflet menu from Green Jade Royal Cuisine. In the front it bears the caption in red letters.

  ‘Eat more! The heavier you are the harder it will be to kidnap you.’

  ‘Thanks for the suggestion Green Jade Royal Cuisine, but I have absolutely no intention of foiling my kidnappers by letting myself get fat.’

  Cash laughs. ‘Fine. You can watch me eat.’

  He calls them on his mobile and puts through an order that would feed a football team. After he ends the call, he drops his mobile on the table, and walks over to me. ‘The food will be thirty minutes. Want to have a shower with me?’

  ‘Midnight feasts and showers. All dangerously tempting offers, but I think I’ll pass.’

  He cocks his head. ‘Strange how that came out as a question. It was meant to be an order.’

  I giggle. ‘I don’t know what kind of girls you have been hanging out with, but all this macho caveman shit doesn’t work with me.’

  ‘No?’ he asks as if giving serious consideration to my statement.

  ‘No,’ I say firmly.

  He nods, bends down, and scoops me up still laughing and protesting.

  Yes, we have a shower, a very interesting one. One that actually gives me an appetite. Flushed red and wrapped up in one of Cash’s big toweling robes, I sit in the living room next to him with all the food spread out on the low coffee table.

  I watch his large, wonderfully masculine hands peel a pancake, spread a thin layer of plum sauce on it and load it up with shredded duck meat. Then he lays julienned cucumber and spring onion on top of the meat, rolls it up, and takes a healthy bite.

  ‘So what did you do at work today?’ I ask.

  ‘You seriously want to know?’

  I pick up a prawn cracker. ‘Uh huh.’

  ‘We were laying down vocals for the new tracks.’

  I bite into the cracker and let it melt on my tongue. ‘How’s it sounding?’

  ‘They have to mix it further of course, and the finished product will sound totally different, but so far, it’s not bad.’

  ‘Good,’ I say and casually pick up a crab claw and dip it into a container of sweet chili sauce. ‘So … was Octavia there?’

  He starts building another pancake. ‘She popped in for a bit, yeah.’

  I drag the claw in the dip. ‘She didn’t stay?’

  He stops chewing. ‘Octavia in the studio? No. She just books the studio times for us.’

  ‘Doesn’t she stay to make sure that everything works and stuff?’

  ‘Octavia has many talents, but she’s no sound engineer or music producer.’

  ‘But she is a good manager, isn’t she?’

  He picks up a pair of chopsticks. ‘She’s a formidable PR agent. She can make the public think black is white and white is you.’

  I let my finger trace the edge of the table. ‘Cash, have you ever, I mean, have you …um.’

  He uses his chopsticks to pick up a piece of chicken. ‘What? Spit it out.’

  ‘You know, have you ever, well, slept with Octavia?’

  He gives me a narrowed look. ‘Fuck, Tori. What do you think I am? The woman’s my manager.’

  ‘It’s just the way she talks to you. Like she owns you, or has some kind of hold on you.’

  He looks at me incredulously. ‘So you think I fucked her?’

  ‘I’m just asking.’

  ‘Well, the answer to your original question is a big, fat never. She’s the last person you have to worry or be jealous about. She has nothing I want.’

  I nod, relieved but trying not to show it. ‘I’m not jealous or anything like that,’ I deny primly.

  He grins suddenly. ‘You’re not jealous? You’re totally jealous.’

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘So why all the questions then?’ he challenges.

  I shrug. ‘I just wanted to know where I fit into the scheme of things.’

  He puts his chopsticks down, moves back on the seat, then curls his hand around my wrists and tugs me so I fall into his lap. Slightly breathless I look up at his face. ‘Where you fit in? You fit in because I kind of like fucking my sister’s little PA.’

  I slide my hand underneath his shirt and lightly scratch the skin of his bare chest. ‘Kind of?’

  ‘Erase that. I fucking cannot get enough of my sister’s little PA.’

  I giggle. ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Yeah, she’s got me all knotted up and twisted around her little finger.’

  ‘Right. I’ll just file that under Fiction, shall I?’

  His eyes are suddenly serious. ‘Why? Does it not seem like that to you?’

  I stare into his eyes. ‘You want to know what it really seems like to me. The real truth?’

  He nods slowly.

  ‘You have so many choices. You’ll play with me for a while then you’ll drop me. If I think it’s just sex then I’ll be OK when that day comes. If I think it is anything else I’ll be hurt.’

  He strokes my hair. ‘I don’t know what the future holds, Tori, but I know this. I never felt this way about any girl before you. I can’t even bear it when you talk to other men. I feel like ripping their fucking heads off.’

  I feel a rush of pure joy fill my heart. My lips widen and I can’t stop grinning like an idiot. ‘Really?’

  ‘God’s honest truth.’

  At that moment I really want to confess about my childhood crush, why I got the PA job to his sister, basically everything, but he takes a prawn and puts it in my mouth. ‘No more talking. I have other things planned for that mouth of yours.’

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Tori

  Sometimes Cash looks at me with something more than lust in his eyes, but some part of me holds back and I never reveal that I’m in love with him. I can never get past what he said about those crazy mad fans that build shrines to him. I know I should tell him, but every time I try to I just can’t bring myself to do it, and the longer I leave it the harder it is becoming to tell him the truth. I promise myself that I will tell him. Soon. Very soon.

  On the Saturday night before Britney’s party, I meet Cash at the front door in a racy black crop top that leaves my midriff bare, a leather skirt, and black patent leather boots.

  His eyes widen. ‘Well, well,’ he drawls.

  But I shake my head and, taking him by the hand, sit him down at the dining table where I have laid out my surprise.

  ‘What the’

  ‘Shhh,’ I say and set about fixing a dark brown wig on his head. Then I glue on a fake, but surprisingly real looking nose on his face. Using a square of sponge, I apply a slightl
y darker foundation than his complexion onto his whole face and carefully blend it into his hair, then put some on his neck too. The rest is easy. I stick on a moustache and small beard and voila he is pretty unrecognizable.

  I lean back to admire my efforts.

  ‘Where are we going?’ he asks, his eyes alive with excitement.

  ‘The Ministry Of Sound,’ I say with a grin. I’ve been wanting to go there ever since I arrived in this country.

  We sneak out the back of the building and hail a passing black cab. There is a long queue of people that snakes around the building and we join it. Cash looks impatient. I realize he never has to queue to go anywhere. No matter where he goes, he is ushered in immediately and taken to the roped off VIP sections.

  I don’t think he enjoys the experience of waiting in line. Welcome to the real world. Even worse, when we get to the entrance I drop my bag and while I am on the ground picking up my lipstick the bouncers tell Cash that he cannot come in. They don’t consider him hip enough to enter their club! But when I straighten they tell me I can go in.

  I tell them I am with Cash, and after a brief hesitation they let us both in. I cannot stop laughing at the expression on Cash’s face. He looks shell shocked. He has NEVER been refused entry anywhere. Inside it is the same, no one rushes to serve him, hangs on his every word, or pesters him for autographs. I think he might have secretly hated it at first being so thoroughly ignored, but after a while he really gets into his anonymity.

  He can behave any way he wants without worrying about it getting into the news, and the way he behaves is to almost have sex with me on the dance floor. We drink, we dance, we laugh, we talk and simply enjoy being with each other. Just like any other normal couple in a club.

  When we get tired we sit on the massive speakers with a group of other revelers. We sit with our shoulders touching and our legs dangling as we talk to the others. They are ordinary people, really nice and without airs. The talk is light and easy.

  They offer us pills they claim are ‘fantastic’ but both of us refuse. We are on a natural high that is difficult to beat with chemicals. They seem pretty out of it, but they are friendly. They tell us they are from Italy and that they are working in one of the restaurants in Chelsea. One of the girls actually tells Cash that he should shave off his beard because he looks a bit like Cash Hunter.

  ‘You know what? I think she could be right,’ I say peering intently into Cash’s face.

  ‘No,’ Cash says modestly.

  ‘Si,’ she says. ‘You must shave. You will be, how do you say, un bell’uomo.’

  ‘A handsome man,’ her boyfriend, the chef, supplies.

  ‘Do you like Cash Hunter?’ I ask her.

  ‘Siiiiii,’ she says. ‘I love him.’ She shakes her head in admiration. ‘He is too beautiful.’

  Her boyfriend catches my eyes and twirls his index finger at the side of his head. ‘She is mad,’ he says.

  ‘Why is she mad? I like him too,’ Rosella, the waitress, admits defiantly.

  Her boyfriend shakes his head in exasperation.

  I look at Cash. ‘Me too. I’m crazy for him too.’

  ‘Are you trying to make me jealous?’ Cash asks.

  ‘Yes,’ I say.

  Then Stefano, the single guy in the group, comes up to us with seven bottles of beer and the conversation moves to other things.

  When we are leaving, Cash pulls four tickets to his concert in Milan from his back pocket.

  ‘Best seats in the house. If you don’t want to go, sell them on the internet. They’re worth £200.00 each,’ he says.

  While they are still staring at the tickets dumbfounded, we slip away. Outside it is already light. It is four in the morning but we are both wide awake. Taxi touts call out to us.

  ‘Should we take one of them?’ I ask.

  ‘Yeah, let’s go eat something in Soho,’ he says with the excitement of a little boy.

  I gaze up at him, so happy I think I will burst.

  We sit in a Chinese restaurant eating lobster with ginger and egg fried rice. We smooch and his moustache falls into his rice. He picks it up with his chopsticks and puts it back on his face covered in rice and makes a funny face. I laugh so much my stomach hurts. In the taxi back I fall asleep on Cash’s chest. He wakes me up just around the corner from the Hunter residence. I open my eyes, look into his eyes and breathily whisper his name in surprise. ‘Cash.’ Then I remember where I am.

  ‘Come on, I’ll walk you to the front door,’ he says.

  I stand for a moment on the sidewalk. It is nearly half five and there is a man walking his dog. I think neither of us wanted the night to end. I look around us. Then I say, ‘Sleep well.’

  ‘Go on. I’ll wait until you get in and close the door.’

  I stand in front of him, desperately not wanting the night to end. I never want to forget this night.

  ‘It’s been a beautiful night. Can I take a picture of you like this?’ I ask.

  He gets into odd poses for me and laughing I snap a few shots.

  ‘See you tomorrow,’ I say.

  ‘See you later,’ he says.

  I peck him on the cheek and run up the stairs. I open the door, step inside, and wave to him.

  ‘By the way I forgot to tell you your nose looks ridiculous,’ I say.

  He touches his fake nose and laughs. I close the door and lean against it. Christ, I am so in love.

  Time seems to pass so quickly. Before I know it, Cash is telling me that he is leaving for Milan in the morning.

  ‘I would have preferred if you were coming with me,’ he says.

  ‘I’ll come with Britney later in the morning as we agreed. Anyway, you’ll be at rehearsals and sound checks and you won’t have time for me.’

  He scowls. ‘I’ll allow it this time, but I swear if you don’t’ tell Britney soon I’m going to have to tell her myself. A) I think it’s bullshit that Britney will care either way. B) if she does care she’ll just have to get over it. I love my sister, but there’s no way I’m going to let her meddle in my affairs.’

  ‘I’ll tell her after her birthday party, OK?’ I promise.

  He doesn’t know that I’m just buying time. I need to tell him about me, but I’m afraid it would ruin everything so I keep putting it off.

  ‘You better,’ he says with a frown, ‘because I want everyone to know you’re mine.’

  ‘Really, I’m yours?’ I ask innocently.

  ‘All mine. Every last inch.’

  ‘Act like it then,’ I say with a wink.

  So he does.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Tori

  ‘Are you ready, Brit?’ I ask, knocking on her bedroom door. Britney is always late. I hope she has at least finished packing.

  ‘Come in,’ she calls. Her voice sounds stressed.

  I turn the handle and go in. Her room looks like a bomb hit it. There are clothes and shoes all over the bed and floor.

  ‘What the hell, Brit? We’re going for one day!’ I exclaim incredulously.

  ‘I know. I know, but I couldn’t decide what to wear. If I take all the clothes and shoes I could conceivably want, then I eliminate the possibility of being devastated that the thing I want to wear is actually back in England,’ she explains with mind-boggling logic.

  ‘Right,’ I say, blinking slowly. ‘Can we establish that you have got everything you could conceivably want, and that it is safe to close your suitcase and take it downstairs?’

  ‘I believe so. However, I’ve still got to dash into the shower first.’

  ‘OK, quickly, please. Victor will be here in ten minutes,’ I appeal, deliberately increasing the urgency in my voice.

  ‘Don’t worry, he’ll wait,’ she says coolly.

  ‘I’ll be in my room,’ I say and leave her.

  On my bed is my knapsack. I have only packed two changes of clothing and I haven’t taken anything for the concert since Brit and I are going shopping as soon as we get to Milan.
>
  I walk to the window and look out. The street is unusually quiet and I suddenly feel a little sad. I’ve not heard from Cash since last night as he caught his flight whilst we were all asleep. I sent him a warm text when I woke up this morning telling him how excited I was, how much I looked forward to meeting him in Milan and seeing him perform. I guess I expected a text back, something, anything, but nothing.

  I feel a dull unease in my stomach, but I tell myself obviously, he would have been terribly busy. Maybe he slept on the flight, and then he will no doubt have been mobbed at the hotel by hordes of screaming teenage girls. From there the band members would have been driven to the stadium for their rehearsals.

  A horrible thought suddenly enters my head.

  What if it is not the wonderful, funny, beautiful man who seduced me so wickedly who meets me in Milan, but Cash Hunter the Sex God and Bad Boy? What if he is different? What if I am just another girl he had sex with and he has already moved on? The thought disturbs me, but I quickly reassure myself that all will be fine. I shouldn’t be so insecure.

  I turn around quickly when I hear Britney’s voice split the still air of the house. Mr. Hunter is out and only Cora is in.

  ‘I need help Tori, I can’t close my suitcase,’ she cries, standing in her bathrobe, her hair still wet.

  ‘Don’t worry. Leave it to me,’ I say automatically.

  A real struggle ensues, but I overpower her suitcase by sitting on it and pressing down the edges and getting Britney to push down on the locks. She claps her hands in appreciation.

  ‘Come on, Brit. Dry your hair and get dressed,’ I urge.

  ‘Yes, mam,’ she says cheekily.

  Just as she switches on the hairdryer, the doorbell chimes. I run to the window and see the car parked on the street below.

  ‘Victor is already outside,’ I shout over the sound of the hairdryer.

  ‘Your ride’s here. Are you girls ready?’ Cora yells from the bottom of the stairs.

  I quickly run to the top of the stairs and scream, ‘Coming,’ and return to rush Britney along. Finally, after her hair is dried and she has flung on some casual clothes, she stands over her suitcase moaning that the case is too heavy to carry. I have a go and even I can barely shift it.