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  Unintended (Unexpected#3) by Amity Cross

  Copyright © 2014 Amity Cross / Nicole R. Taylor

  Kindle Edition

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All song titles, song lyrics, products and band names mentioned in this book are the property of the sole copyright owners.

  Cover Design: © Nicole R. Taylor

  Contents

  One – Blair

  Two – West

  Three – Blair

  Four – West

  Five – Blair

  Six – West

  Seven – Blair

  Eight – West

  Nine – Blair

  Ten – West

  Eleven – Blair

  Twelve – West

  Thirteen – Blair

  Fourteen – Blair

  Undeniable – A Taste Tester

  About Amity

  Hey little monster, I got my eye on you

  Where are you going, where you running to?

  Hey little monster, you know it's all ok

  I'm gonna love ya, no matter what you say

  - “Little Monster” by Royal Blood

  The first thing I did when I laid eyes on Jake West, was slap him as hard as I could. The second thing I did, was go for his balls with a strategically aimed knee, but he was too quick. A hand grasped my thigh and he shifted himself out of range.

  "Okay, so I deserved that," he said, as I stepped away from his toxicity.

  I stared at the bright red hand mark on his cheek and hoped it fucking stung like a bitch. "Get the fuck out before customers start coming in." I glanced at the front of the shop where I was currently standing in the middle of, racks of black PVC corsets and clothes around me. Uber goth central, smack bang in the middle of Camden, London.

  "No."

  "No?" I rose my eyebrows at him, trying not to take in his sexy as fuck body. It was cold out, so he was wearing a black biker jacket over his trademark tight T-shirt and jeans. He was trying to press my buttons. "I fucking work here, asshole. It's not fight night and believe me, that backhand was just a taste tester."

  "You need to stop running and listen, Blair."

  "I believe the last thing I said to you was, don't follow me."

  "You really think I was gunna listen?" he asked, stepping closer. "I know you still have feelings for me. I can still see it in the way you move. The acid in your voice. I'm here to show you-"

  "You don't have the right to come here and tell me what I should feel," I hissed. "You gave up just when things got hard. I never gave up."

  "You're so fucking strong, wildcat."

  "Don't call me that." I flinched away from him, digging my fingernails into my palms.

  "You're the strongest woman I know, B. You have a beautiful heart and a beautiful soul and I'm sorry I hurt you."

  "Shut up."

  West clamped his mouth shut, sensing he'd laid it on too thick. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket and looked around the shop. He was nervous and Jake fucking West was never nervous. I was kinda enjoying watching him squirm.

  "How did you even find me? I never told anyone-"

  "I hired a private investigator."

  "You fucking what?" Anger flared in my gut and my skin pricked with a renewed urge to kick him in the balls. How dare he sift around in my private life without my permission. How dare he have a stranger find out the things I wanted to keep locked away.

  "Blair, you disappeared. You just vanished."

  "Did you ever stop to think I wanted to?"

  "I know you wanted to," he said evenly. "It's exactly what I did when I fell apart. You're falling apart, Blair."

  "And why the fuck do you care? You let some slut suck you off and you called her my name you son of a bitch."

  "I know I fucked up-"

  "How could you think I was her?" I hadn't cried once since I left him, but tears were currently threatening my hard exterior and it made me even more pissed at him. I wouldn't let him see me cry. "Do you understand how much I hate you, West? I fucking hate you. I gave you everything."

  "I know," he said, a sigh escaping his lips. "I know Furlough played you. I know what he did and he's gone for good, but I know what I did was fucked up. The kicker was that he knew what I was going to do and did nothing to stop it. I did it anyway. I wasn't strong enough to handle losing you. That night, I thought you'd gone for good."

  "All I can hear is blah blah blah," I hissed. "Fucking excuses."

  "I'm getting better, Blair. I-" He ran a hand through his hair, becoming more agitated. Glancing out the front of the shop, I noticed a heavyset guy standing just outside, watching our exchange.

  "Who's that?" I asked, nodding at the man. "Is he your boyfriend?"

  Glancing over his shoulder, West shook his head. "That's Josh. He's my sober companion."

  "Good for you." I rolled my eyes and looked away, too hurt and shocked by his sudden appearance to be anything but a bitch. It was probably a good thing he was getting help. Proper help.

  We stood in silence for a while, Sisters of Mercy playing some twisted goth anthem through the shop speakers. Despite the searing hate I felt at seeing him, I could still feel that palpable attraction crackling in the air between us. It knocked the wind right out of me and I realized I still cared about him. My body cared about him, but my heart wanted to bitch slap him from here into next year. What use was caring for someone if you couldn't trust them? I didn't want mindless fucking anymore. I didn't want mindless anything. I wanted to fill my heart up with someone and them to fill theirs with me in return, but all I seemed to get was a hollow ache.

  Standing there staring at him, staring at his perfect as fuck body, thinking about his delicious cock, his wicked words…all I felt was the rising need to run. I thought about quitting my stupid job, going back to the flat I rented a room in, packing my suitcase and going to Heathrow and getting on the next flight outta Dodge. Travel the world and see the things I always wanted to see. Fill my heart with me.

  Snapping out of his awkward silence, West reached behind him and pulled out a white envelope from the back pocket of his jeans. Turning it over in his hands a few times, his expression changed like he was trying to decide whether he should give it to me. After a moment of silent deliberation, he held it out.

  "What's this?" I asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

  "Take it." He waved it at me until I reached out and snatched it from his fingers. "We're playing the Roundhouse on Friday. I'd really like it if you'd come. I have something I'd like to show you."

  I held the envelope to my chest, wrapping my arms around myself like it'd protect me from him. "I took your stupid envelope, now get out."

  He looked down at the floor, his brow furrowing and sighed. "Please consider it."

  I didn't trust myself to answer, because my knickers were getting wetter by the second as my traitorous body reacted to his presence. How could I still want him like that after I saw some other bitch sucking him off? His gaze met mine and it was so full of emotion - regret, hope, lust, pain - that I looked away. I didn't have to watch him walk away from me and out of the shop because I was aware of every tiny move he made.

  "Hey bitch," a familiar female voice called out and I looked up to see Lucy walking in. She turned to check out West's a
ss as she passed him and mouthed, fucking sexy, at me.

  West chose that moment to glance back and our eyes met. A sexy, lopsided grin pulled at his lips and then he was gone, his boyfriend slash sober companion turning to follow him down the street.

  "Who was that?" Lucy asked in her thick Scottish accent. She was this bombshell uber goth with her perfect makeup, blood red lips, tiny waist and Bettie Page fringe framing her porcelain skin. We were a stark contrast standing side by side. Me with my almond skin and wild hair. A goth and a rocker.

  She dumped her coffin shaped handbag under the counter, the billions of thin silver bracelets around her wrist clattering together. "Blair, sweetie, dish the dirt. That man had a sexy ass. I'd like to bite down on that."

  "There's no dirt," I huffed, nervously arranging the rack of clothes in front of me, remembering my first day in London. I'd said the same thing to him. I have this urge to sink my teeth into your tight ass cheeks. I squirmed, wondering if I should go out back and rub one out to get the sexual tension out of my body.

  "Fuck you," she laughed. "Your knickers are soaked, bitch. Who was the hottie? You fuck him or somethin'?"

  I nodded, knowing there was no way I was escaping her bombardment. "I fucked him."

  "I knew it," she shrieked dancing around on the spot. I'd only worked here a few months, but I quickly learnt that Lucy was full throttle twenty four seven. It did my fucking head in. I turned away, hoping that was the end of her questioning. "He looks like that guy from that band. You know, Affliction?"

  I snorted at the irony. West was like an affliction. One that I couldn't get rid of like a nasty as fuck STD. The genital wart that just wouldn't drop off and die.

  "Is he?" Her eyes widened as her jaw dropped. "Was that...Blair!"

  She obviously didn't read any tabloids because she would've hounded me about it weeks ago. "He's a fucking asshole, so just drop it."

  She frowned at my reaction and shrugged. "Suit yourself."

  The door beeped its annoying electronic beep as a group of customers came into the store. Lucy gave me a look and weaved her way through the racks of clothing to go greet them, leaving me to shift my attention onto the envelope West had given me.

  It was only blind curiosity that stopped me from ripping it in two and chucking it in the bin. When Lucy's attention was fully occupied, I peeked inside and saw a concert ticket and a card. It was like West had said. He wanted me to go to the Affliction gig on Friday, but what was the card for? Sliding it out, there was only one thing written on it in his scrawly handwriting. A YouTube URL. Instantly, I wondered what his fucking game was. Obviously I was it and I didn't want to play at all, but the fucker had got my curiosity amped up and I wouldn't be able to stop thinking about the video that the URL led to until I went home and plugged it into my flatmate's laptop.

  Jake West you fucking cocksucker.

  There was no way I was going to that concert. There was no way I was going to entertain his meager attempts at winning me back into his bed. I wasn't going to be his hole to fuck anymore. That trust was long gone, along with my heart and any ability I ever had to love.

  There was no fucking way I was going.

  I walked out onto Camden High Street, my skin prickling with…I don't know, but I was itching all over. The air between Blair and I had been thick with sexual tension. I still felt it after all this time and I was sure she did, too. My cock sure did because I desperately needed to rearrange myself as soon as I was off the street.

  "So?" Josh asked, peering at me over the top of his sunnies. He was a tough, muscled guy, built like a ton of bricks, donned in a dark leather jacket, jeans and shit-kicker boots. He certainly didn't look like a sober companion, he looked more like my bodyguard than anything. The guy had been a life saver, literally. He took no bullshit from me or anyone else and didn't care if he hurt my manly pride. He drove a hard bargain, which was exactly what I needed. I just wished he'd been around from the start, I wished I hadn't of listened to Furlough and paid more attention to the professionals.

  I shrugged at his question and continued walking down the street. "I said my bit, now it's up to her."

  "That's fair enough, you know," he said, switching into counselor mode. "You can't force her to go."

  "No, I can't," I muttered as I weaved through the slow walking tourists who were gawking at all the alternative clothing and tattoo shops. A group of goth girls watched me as I passed and I put my head down. I wasn't in the mood for an autograph and selfie session. My head was filled with her, my wildcat, who was still as feisty as ever.

  I'd come a long way in the past three months. It had taken every scrap of will and hope and strength I had to not give in and use again. Because with Blair gone, and the thought of her hating me, was too much to handle. If it wasn't for the rest of the band, Joe, Mick, Rob…and our new manager Sasha, fuck I'd be a dead man. It was Sasha who arranged for Josh to come meet me. I owed them a fucking lot. I owed them all my life if I was going to get all down and dirty about it.

  "If we wanna make the hotel by lunch, we better get moving," Josh said, looking at his phone.

  We had a meeting at the hotel with Sasha and the rest of the band to discuss my epic plan to win Blair back. An intricate plot that required many moving parts and a fuck load of planning.

  I had one hand of cards left to play. One hand that had been three months in the making and lots of late nights and schedule shuffling. One hand that if played right, would get Blair to see how I truly felt about her. How sorry I was about everything. If she could see, if she could understand, maybe she would come back.

  The envelope was step one. The video was step two. I had trouble voicing my feelings, so the only way I could get them out and show her was through music. Music was the thing that spoke to my heart. It was my soul. She needed to see my soul.

  Walking towards the tube station, Josh in tow, I smiled to myself as I saw a wall plastered with dozens of black and white posters. It had already started.

  I stared down at the laptop Joe had shoved in my face and couldn't believe what I was seeing. We'd released our new single that morning and it was already sitting at number three on the UK iTunes charts. By the end of the day, it'd probably be number one.

  Wildcat (I'm in Love) was more than just a song...more than my apology. It was mine and Blair's love story. It was my love for her. The whole world would hear it, but it would mean nothing if she didn't. I hoped her rabid curiosity would win out and she'd punch that URL into a computer someplace. I knew her well enough to know that it was the thing I was counting on.

  "If she doesn't see this, then she's blind," Joe said, flicking the back of the screen to get my attention. "Of all the hair brained schemes we've cooked up over the years, this has to be the best one."

  "If it works, it'd be the only one that has," I mused, setting the laptop onto the coffee table.

  I sat in my latest hotel room with the guys, along with Sasha and Josh. Actually, for all my ideas and drive, it was Sasha who made most of this stupid plan a reality. She was a tiny five foot nothing pocket rocket who never seemed to sleep, all business with her black punk rock hair do and attitude.

  "Where we at with the posters?" I asked nobody in particular.

  "There's a bunch of guys in Camden slapping them up as we speak," Joe said. "Cops will be on their ass, but they're pros."

  We'd enlisted the help of some of the city's best graffiti and stencil artists to help us pull the entire thing off. Sasha had organized a bunch of posters printed of the single cover and then distributed them into the willing hands of a small army of street artists. We were aiming for this thing to go viral. Hit all the websites, the newspapers, the gossip rags, TV, everywhere. Blair had a tendency to run and I wanted her song to be everywhere she turned. Posters everywhere she went, the song on the radio, on the television, on her housemate's stereo, in that dingy shop she worked in. Maybe it was a bit of a dick move, forcing her to listen, but I was a fucking idiot in love.


  "Are we gunna get any flack from the city councils or the police?" Mick asked.

  "I've instructed them to put them up where they're legally permitted to, but if they choose to put them up elsewhere..." Sasha trailed off and shrugged. "Not our problem, they signed a waiver."

  "Cheeky little devil." Mick gave her a wink.

  "NME have agreed to the cover and article in this weeks issue," Sasha went on, handing me her tablet. "They were foaming at the mouth for the exclusive so it was an easy sell. It goes to print tonight and ships out in the morning." We'd scored the cover at our own expense, a few pages inside and the poster that was currently being slapped up all over the world was being printed in the centerfold.

  "Fuck you're good," I said with a laugh. We should've fucked Furlough off years ago and got her. I flipped through the mockups the magazine had sent us and shook my head. They were fucking good. Too good.

  "Do you really think this is going to work?" Sasha asked.

  "I don't know," I replied, truthfully. "Even if it doesn't, I'll die knowing that I did everything that I could possibly do to let Blair know how I feel about her. To let her know I'm sorry."

  "I hope so," Sasha said. "I really like her."

  I rubbed my eyes, suddenly feeling tired.

  "Okay," Joe said, clapping his hands. "Everything's in motion and there's nothing we can do now except ride the wave until Friday. Since it's a mother fucking Tuesday night, I say we order in and hit the shops tomorrow. Who's with me?" He looked at me expectantly and I nodded.

  "Fucking starving," I muttered. It was probably better if I hung out with the guys tonight. Otherwise, I knew I'd be wound up and angsty after my brief encounter with Blair. I could still see her in my mind's eye, pissed off, angry…hurt. I'd hurt her in the worst way possible. I'd wanted to take her in my arms and never let go. I would've done anything to touch her again, to feel her mouth against mine…my cheek still stung with the memory of her slap.

  "West?" Josh waved his hand in front of my face and I blinked hard.

  "What?" I grunted, sitting up straight.