Bad Girls Do
An Everly Brothers Novel
Rosalie Lario
Bad girls have all the fun…
Trying to fit in with expectations has left Diane Milstrom lonely and dateless for yet another New Year’s Eve. After being forced to witness her ex proposing to the woman he dumped her for, she has one too many drinks and makes an uncharacteristically impulsive decision: she’s not going to be good anymore. It’s gotten her nothing but heartache, and besides, everyone knows bad girls have all the fun.
Sam Everly enjoys the lifestyle his family’s wealth provides, but he hates the trappings of society that come with it. If he has to attend one more family function full of bored socialites, he just might lose it. Diane Milstrom, his eldest brother’s ex-girlfriend, is the worst of the lot…or so he always thought. But when he overhears her making a Bad Girl To-Do list, he starts to wonder if maybe there’s more to her than meets the eye. Curiosity gets the better of him, and he volunteers to help her with some of the more…ahem, explicit items on her list.
When Sam points out that being naughty with her ex’s brother is something only a bad girl would do, Diane can’t help but see his point. Besides, she could do worse than a little between-the-sheets action with a sexy guy who makes her heart beat in ways his brother never could. It’s only supposed to be a fling, a way to help her stretch her bad girl wings. But the more items they cross off her list, the higher the stakes become. Because if they aren’t careful, she just might fall in love…and that’s one thing a bad girl should never do.
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Bad Girls Do
Copyright © February 2015
by Rosalie Lario
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All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior permission of the copyright owner.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
Cover design by Robin Ludwig Design Inc.
Editorial Services provided by Chelle Olson, Literal Addiction.
License Notes
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
Books by Rosalie Lario
About the Author
Chapter One
Golden orbs hung suspended from the ceiling, reflecting glittering streams of light in the festively decorated ballroom. Revelers drifted throughout the crowded space, their faces aglow from the holiday merriment. Some of them were watching Ryan Seacrest count down the seconds to the New Year on a big screen TV mounted to one of the ballroom’s walls, but not Diane Milstrom. Her gaze was instead riveted on the scene unfolding just a few feet before her.
A handsome man wearing an expensive, tailored tuxedo was bent on one knee before a pretty brunette with a mass of curls that fell partway down her back. The sequins on her slinky, purple gown glimmered as she lifted her hands to cover her open mouth.
“Hailey Thompson, I can’t imagine my life without you,” the man said to the brunette, yelling so she could hear him over the din of the crowd. “Will you marry me?”
“Oh my god. Yes.” The brunette sniffled, a few stray tears streaming down her face. “Yes, of course, I will.”
He slipped the ring on her finger and then, beaming with happiness, rose to scoop her into his arms, just as Ryan shouted, “Happy New Year!”
“Well, shit,” Diane murmured. Of all the things she’d expected to see tonight, this hadn’t been one of them.
Her friend, Angela, made a soft sound of sympathy and gave her arm an awkward pat. “Ouch, sweetie. Are you okay? Is there anything I can do?”
After glancing down at her half-forgotten champagne glass, Diane downed the contents, then held the empty glass out to her friend.
“Yes,” she said dryly. “Keep them coming.”
Angela winced but, smart girl that she was, said nothing as she accepted the glass and left to refill the contents.
It wasn’t so much that it was her ex, Andrew Everly, who’d made the proposal, or even that he was proposing to the woman he’d dumped Diane for. No, what really got Diane was that he’d done it right in front of her, as if she were invisible.
Come on, face it. As far as he’s concerned, you are invisible.
Andrew wasn’t a cruel man. A little cold sometimes, and an undeniably ruthless businessman, but not mean-spirited. So the odds were he hadn’t even noticed her standing there, less than ten feet from where he’d just mapped out the rest of his life with another woman.
Proving herself to be just as quick as she was helpful, Angela returned with a full glass of champagne for Diane. She gave it to her and then guided Diane by the elbow, turning her and marching them through the crowd.
Diane made sure to hold her head high, just in case anyone she knew had seen what had happened. But they all seemed caught up in their own celebration. Well, at least she didn’t have to contend with a group of witnesses to her personal shame.
When Angela led her to the nearest empty table, Diane gave her friend extra credit for placing them right near the open bar. She had a feeling she was going to be availing herself of that particular option much more before the night was through. Thank god she lived in New York City, where cabs abounded.
“I’m sure he didn’t do that on purpose,” Angela said lamely as she took a seat. The shimmering lights glinted off her auburn strands, which she’d tucked into an elaborate up do.
Years of etiquette training prompted Diane to sit with her spine straight. Of course, that effect was probably ruined by the big gulp of champagne she took, but she couldn’t bring herself to care right now. “I figured that out already.”
“So…how are you feeling?”
Diane thought about it. Honestly, she couldn’t even bring herself to be the slightest bit heartbroken about Andrew being off the market. Their relationship had been lackluster, to say the least. They’d been thrown together by her father, who invested in Andrew’s company and had thought Andrew would be a good match for her. Or, more likely, that Andrew’s wealth would be a good addition to her family’s.
Although she could objectively recognize Andrew’s good looks, they’d suffered a complete lack of chemistry. So much so that they’d dated for months and hadn’t gone further than a few halfhearted goodnight kisses.
So no, it wasn’t his being engaged that bothered her so much. It was the fact that he hadn’t given her a second thought.
“How am I so boring and forgettabl
e that he doesn’t even consider whether or not it would bug me to witness him proposing?”
“You’re not boring,” Angela said dutifully. “You two just weren’t a good match.”
“I know, I know. But…” Sighing, Diane chugged the rest of the liquid in her glass.
“Take it easy, sweetie,” Angela murmured. “You know you’re not a big drinker.”
“I’ve decided to start now.” Two glasses of champagne weren’t nearly enough.
Angela let out a short laugh. “You’re not allowed to make that kind of decision when your ex-boyfriend just proposed to his new girlfriend in front of you.”
Diane decided to ignore the fact that Angela was right. She rose to her feet and glided over to the bar, thanking the elegance of her shimmering gold ball gown for at least giving her a bit of confidence. Truth be told, she was feeling pretty undesirable right now.
Sliding her empty glass onto the bar top, she said to the older gentleman in the bowtie, “I’ll have another.”
The bartender took one look at her and said, “You look like you could use something harder. Vodka tonic?”
“Yes, please.” Anything to dull the slow simmer of anger that threatened to heat to boiling.
Angela caught up with her at the bar, worrying away at her lower lip. “Are you sure you should be drinking that?”
Her friend was right to worry. Diane never had more than a glass of wine or champagne. A drinker she was not. The second glass of champagne she’d just consumed was already making her tummy flutter and her head feel spacey.
Just what she needed right now.
“Oh, I’m sure,” she said to Angela as she took a sip.
Her eyes roved past Angela and landed on the older gentleman who stood halfway across the room, engaged in conversation with another man. Time had thickened his waist and grayed his hair, but her father looked every bit as imposing as he had on the rare occasions she’d seen him growing up. As always, the sight of him elicited multiple emotions. The need to please. The desire to be seen. Anger that he didn’t care for her more than he did. She thought her feelings would’ve dulled after moving in with him earlier this year, but it seemed she still held that childish hope her father would pay her more attention.
Well, she was a fool. The ball had dropped more than ten minutes ago and he hadn’t even bothered to make his way over to wish her a happy New Year.
Her eyes still locked on the figure of her father, she announced to Angela, “My mother thinks I should have a casual affair.”
Angela blinked and a stuttering sound escaped her mouth. She turned back to the bartender. “Make that two.”
The bartender made Angela’s drink with admirable efficiency then set it down in front of her.
Angela grabbed her glass, watched as Diane took another sip, then curled her fingers around Diane’s and led her back to the table. The moment they sat down, she leaned in close. “Let me get this straight. Your mom suggested you have casual sex?”
Diane smirked at Angela’s disbelieving tone. She supposed it might seem strange to many people, but she’d only just met Angela when she moved to New York back in February. Angela had no clue what her mother was like.
“If it puts things into perspective”—she took a long pull of her vodka tonic and made a face as the strong liquor burned its way down to her stomach—“my mother just divorced her fourth husband and her newest lover is five years younger than I am.”
“Oh.” Angela’s brows furrowed. “Okay.”
Diane glanced toward her father. “I wish I were more like her.”
“Like your mother?” Appearing fascinated, Angela took an absentminded sip of her drink, then let out a hard cough. “Do tell, how so?”
“She’s never cared about propriety or what anyone thinks of her. She lives her life the way she wants to.”
It was something Diane had always both admired and hated about her mother. Simone Edwards was the epitome of a French woman, full of joie de vivre. For a little girl who’d cared too much about others’ opinions, especially her father’s, growing up with Simone for a mother had often been quite difficult.
“When she came to visit last month, she brought her lover to the family dinner. You should have seen my father’s face when he realized the guy was barely old enough to legally drink. It turned all red and purple.”
Angela’s lips quirked in amusement. “That must have been quite a sight.”
“Yes, I thought his head was going to explode.” Diane stifled a laugh at the memory and lifted her glass for another big sip. When she gurgled up the last of the liquid, she looked down in surprise. She didn’t remember drinking the whole glass, but that explained why her head felt like it was floating. At least the shame of Andrew’s proposal had faded to a dull ache.
“You’re drunk,” Angela observed, looking on in a mixture of amusement and fascination.
“Huh. Guess I am.” There was a first time for everything, and at the ripe old age of twenty-eight, she supposed it was overdue.
The liquor heated her from the inside out, and suddenly she could think of nothing but the telephone conversation she’d had earlier with her mother. “You know, I think my mother’s right. Bad girls do have more fun.”
When Angela leaned forward, one of the glittering orbs overhead reflected off her auburn strands, momentarily blinding Diane. “Your mom said that to you?”
Diane shrugged. “It was one of her strategic points for convincing me to have a casual affair.”
Angela laughed and shook her head. “To think, the most scandalous thing my mother and I have ever discussed, was whether the cook and driver were dating behind our backs.”
Sudden inspiration struck, and Diane slammed her empty glass onto the table. “That’s it.”
Angela’s eyes grew wide. “What’s it?”
“I’m going to be a bad girl from here on out.”
After all, her mother was a self-professed bad girl, and look what it had gotten her? More money than she could ever spend, and a bevy of hot, young lovers.
Her friend broke out into laughter. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”
Nonplussed, Diane stared at Angela. “Why not?”
“You can’t just say you’re a bad girl.”
“I know that.” Just because she was drunk didn’t mean she didn’t realize action was required.
She plucked her clutch off the table and dug into it for her cell phone. Then she swiped through it until she opened up her memo app…which, really, took much longer than it should have.
Maybe I shouldn’t have had that last drink.
“Okay. I’m going to make a list of things a bad girl would do.”
Angela arched one brow. “A Bad Girl To-Do list?”
Diane nodded at her friend. Now she got it. “Exactly.”
“Okay, I’ll bite.” Angela scooted her chair closer to Diane, staring down at the empty memo screen. “What’s the first thing on the list going to be?”
Diane thought for a second. “Oh, that’s easy, of course. Have an illicit affair.”
She typed into onto her screen.
Giving her a dubious glance, Angela said, “Let me get this straight. You are going to have casual sex with someone? Without it meaning anything to you?”
That made Diane frown. “What, like it’s hard?”
Just because she’d never done it didn’t mean she wasn’t capable.
Right?
Angela let out a disbelieving laugh. “Okay, well, if you’re going to take it that far, why not go further?”
Diane blinked at her. “What do you mean?”
“If you’re going to have meaningless, bad girl sex, why not indulge in every fantasy you might ever have? Bondage, sex club, voyeurism.” Angela ticked each item off on her finger.
Diane stared at her for a moment before shrugging and adding the suggestions that interested her to her list. From Angela’s guffaw, she might have been teasing, but Diane couldn’t think
of a single reason why Angela wasn’t right. If she was going to be bad, why not do it all the way?
After typing everything into her phone, she looked up at Angela expectantly. “Come on, help me think up more stuff for my list.”
“Somehow I have a feeling this is going to backfire on you,” Angela murmured. But, like the good friend she was, she dutifully helped anyway.
***
This New Year’s Eve ball had started out just liked any other boring family function. Wealthy socialites gathered around to gossip about where they’d be summering, while their male counterparts congregated to compare the size of their dicks—or maybe it was stock portfolios, he could never keep up.
Okay, perhaps he was being a bit jaded about the whole thing, but the truth was, Sam Everly was tired of the lifestyle his family name provided. As the youngest son of the late publishing magnate, Andrew Everly, Senior, and official Art Director of Everly Publications, Sam was accustomed to socializing with Manhattan’s elite, but it got old after awhile.
Unfortunately, the company was undergoing a worldwide expansion spurred on by Sam’s older brother, Andrew, which meant there would be many more of these types of events in the foreseeable future. At the beginning of the night, the thought of that had grated at him. But now, he found himself well and truly distracted. To his surprise, the cause of his distraction was none other than Diane Milstrom.
When his older brother James’s girlfriend had pointed her out as a dating prospect earlier in the night, Sam had laughed at the thought of ever hooking up with Diane. Not only was she the daughter of one of the company’s investors, but she’d also dated his oldest brother Andrew for a few months. More importantly, the woman was about as interesting as reading his company’s monthly corporate reports. So while he could objectively recognize her hotness—with her stacked body, long, blonde hair, and green eyes, she gave Ivanka Trump a run for her money—he couldn’t be less interested.
But then, as he’d been headed to the bar for a refill on his Chivas whiskey, he’d overheard her talking to a friend about making a bad girl list. Being your average red-blooded male, that had stopped him dead in his tracks. The rest of what he’d heard Diane say had veered into the oh-so-interesting category.
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