Unintended Read online

  I knew exactly what Furlough was trying to do. He'd obviously seen all the stuff we'd put out in the last day and wanted to take one last jab at me for destroying his selfish, greedy, money grabbing career. If I ever saw him again nothing would stop me from killing the bastard. I'd smash him within an inch of death and make him plead for his life and see how he liked it.

  "West," Josh said, laying a hand on my shoulder.

  "I want to snap the fucking bastard in two." I shook his hand off and pushed past him back into the room. I began pacing, trying to control my anger.

  "That won't solve anything, mate."

  "Everything's riding on this, the show, now it's fucking ruined. Over." I threw my hands into the air in exasperation. "She's not fucking coming now."

  "Blair knew about your past, didn't she?"

  I pulled in a shaky breath and glanced away. "No. Not all of it."

  "Then you have a decision to make," he stated bluntly.

  I turned to face him, confused. "What decision? I don't have anything left-"

  "You do, West. You can come clean."

  "I-"

  "The papers will print whatever they fucking like. True or not. I'm sure Blair knows it, she was in them quite a bit. But this is your chance to tell your side of the story. You can let the rumors fly, let them eat away at you and tear down everything you've worked for in the last three months, or you can take the bull by the horns and fight back."

  Fuck he was good.

  "Perhaps you should discuss it with the rest of the band and with Sasha. I know they'll have your back whatever you decide to do."

  I ran my hands over my face and began to pace back and forth again. Tell my side of the story? I wasn't sure what would be worse. Not saying anything and letting the media run wild or tell the world the whole fucked up truth. Who the fuck was Jake West? A complete utter failure and fuck up. Drug addict, womanizer, megalomaniac, sadist. I wasn't that person, I'd never been that person…had I? I couldn't even admit it to myself so how was I going to admit it to the entire fucking world? I felt my skin begin to itch with the need to shove something up my nose and forget.

  After hearing what Blair's dad had done...I couldn't let her find out. She'd probably already seen the headlines and was already running as fast as she could. Wildcat.

  "You don't have to make a decision now," Josh said, watching my agitated movements back and forth. "You can lie low until after the concert. It's only another day."

  "Only a day?" I scoffed. "It only takes five minutes to get a story out. Type some bullshit and press send. Imagine all the crap that's about to come out of the woodwork. There's blood in the water, Josh, and there's a fuck load of sharks waiting to take a bite outta me."

  "Working yourself up about it won't make it any better. Remember what we discussed when you begin to feel overwhelmed."

  I sighed, curling my hands into tight fists. "Acknowledge the trigger."

  "And?"

  "Acknowledge the way I deal with the stress." Which was like a nuclear fucking bomb.

  "And?"

  "Remind myself why I want to change." I picked up my phone and pressed the power button. The photo I took of Blair while she was sleeping back in Paris, back when we were happy together, flashed onto the screen. I studied her peaceful features, her long eyelashes, her perfect as fuck lips... I wanted to be someone who was worthy of her love, which meant I had to keep fighting. It wasn't just my wildcat, if I was doing all of this just for her it still wouldn't be right. I had to want to go on for myself just as much.

  I had to fight for her, for me, for us because loving her was worth it.

  "Better?" Josh asked after a moment.

  "Better," I echoed, putting my phone back on the side table.

  There was a knock at the door and I pulled on a robe as Josh went to answer it. A moment later, a flustered looking Sasha practically ran into the room, tablet and smartphone in hand.

  "Fuck, West," she cried. "Seriously…what the fucking fuck?"

  "Couldn't have put it any better myself," I said wryly.

  "We need to do some damage control."

  "I don't like the fucking sound of that."

  "West, I know it sounds fucked up, I know…but we've gotta say something."

  "No," I said, holding up my hand. "No. Don't do anything."

  Sasha looked me up and down, her face contorted in confusion.

  "It's about time everything came out," I murmured, looking out the window at a grey London day.

  "The article was true?"

  I snorted. "Sasha, how long have you been our stage manager?"

  "Three years."

  "And in three years, you never noticed anything?"

  There was nothing but silence behind me - you could hear a pin drop and all those other fucking metaphors. I still wanted to snap Furlough in two, but he'd probably done me a favor while trying to destroy me. Truth was all I had left if I wanted to win Blair back and if I wanted to finally acknowledge my problems and begin to heal.

  "West, what are you saying?"

  I turned back to Sasha and grimaced. "I think it's time to tell my side of the story, don't you?"

  Josh gave me a slight nod in encouragement, but Sasha was still frozen to the spot, absolutely dumbfounded.

  "After the concert, get a journalist and a fucking camera. I don't give a shit about the money; I'll do it for fucking free if I have to. They can ask me whatever they want. Nothing's off limits. I don't care what you have to do, Sasha. Just make it happen."

  She nodded, swallowing hard and scurried from the room. I turned back to the window and saw the throng of media that were already gathering on the street outside. Vultures.

  Now wasn't the time for pussyfooting around. Now was the time to take the bull by the balls. Fuck the horns.

  "You'll probably have to keep your head down until then," Josh said from behind me.

  I grunted, way beyond discussing it any further. The paparazzi and the media would have a field day with this. This was their version of crack cocaine and wasn't that an ironic metaphor. The next day and a half would be the greatest test I'd ever have to face. If Blair saw the papers and decided not to come… There was nothing more I could do. I just had to wait and hope that she heard my message and still cared enough about us to come regardless.

  It wasn't that manly of me to admit to myself, and I felt my balls shrinking at the mere thought of it, but I was hoping that love would win this round. Because, love conquered all, didn't it?

  Jake West kept fucking surprising me with pleasure and pain and everything in between.

  I'd seen the papers. How couldn't I? I saw the things they'd written about him and I wanted to hate him more. I wanted to hate him forever for not trusting me like I had him. I'd had a fucked up life. An alcoholic wife beater for a father, a mother who wasn't strong enough to save herself or her daughter, the vitriol and bullying that went with being the innocent child in all of it. Daddy dearest had shot my Mum's face off and then his own, but I hadn't resorted to the desperate lengths West had to escape. I just fucked it away. He tried to kill himself. Whether it was on purpose or not didn't really matter. I could compare him to my father or I could compare him to nobody…because he wasn't my father. Because he was Jake West and I still had fucking feelings for the bastard.

  I stood in the queue to get into the Roundhouse, ticket in hand and wondered if I was doing the right thing. I wasn't the same Blair Hayden that I was at the start of our story. Not by a long shot. I didn't say the word fuck nearly as much. That was a start.

  The attendant at the door scanned my ticket and I walked inside, flowing with the stream of people. No, he wasn't my father.

  "Blair?"

  I looked up at the sound of a female voice and frowned when I saw a tiny waif of a woman waving me over. She looked familiar, but I couldn't quite place where I'd seen her face before. There was this punk rock look about her with her black choppy haircut and studded denim vest, but she had an ai
r of business as well. I didn't know how that was possible looking like she did, but whoever she was, she pulled it off.

  I stopped in front of her looking her up and down, sizing her up and she let out a laugh. "I'm Sasha. I was Affliction's stage manager. Now I'm the manager." West had mentioned a Sasha when he'd crashed into the shop the other day. "West-"

  I held up my hand to stop her. "Don't. Whatever he said to tell me, just don't."

  "Blair, he-"

  "I don't want to hear it. He's said enough, don't you think? The posters, the song."

  She laughed, shaking her head.

  "I'm not even sure why I'm here," I said, not dropping my gaze from hers. "Just let me watch the show and make up my own mind. If I want to see him after, I'll come find you."

  Sasha nodded, worrying her bottom lip and I wondered if she'd been instructed to get me backstage at any costs. She pointed towards stage left. "The stage door is over there. Ask for me and I'll do the rest. I'll let the bouncer know."

  I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding and considered saying the two words I hardly said to anyone. "Thank you."

  "No problems. I'll let him know you're here."

  "Don't," I said a little too forcibly. "Don't give him hope that I'll stick around."

  Sasha regarded me for a moment, sadness in her eyes. Why she felt sad for me or anyone else was beyond me. I didn't even fucking know her.

  "Sure."

  I watched her disappear into the crowd and crossed my arms over my stomach, suddenly feeling sick. Usually, I'd have run ages ago. Got out while I still had some dignity intact. Saved myself and fuck everyone else. The universe was a hard bitch to work around.

  Squashing down all my ingrained tendencies, I made my way into the theatre itself, into the darkness as the support band's gear was being cleared off the stage. Roadies ran too and fro and it dredged up memories of the first night of Affliction's tour. I'd been sitting on the floor in an empty venue in Paris. West had been up on stage, bathed in a soft blue light, a hand shielding his eyes, scanning the darkness for me.

  My heart did this stupid flip flopping thing and I put my head down, elbowing my way through the throng of people and found a spot to the side of the stage where I could stand and watch without being jostled. I stood and waited, oblivious to the thousands of people around me, getting more and more nervous as time wore on. Affliction's drum kit was rolled out onto the stage, their bevy of guitar techs testing equipment and tuning, all kinds of people milling in the wings. I should've gone to the bar to get something to calm myself. I should've…the house lights flicked off and as the venue was plunged into darkness, the crowd began to go ape shit. At least there were people out there that didn't give a rat's ass what was in the papers.

  I'd seen a ton of Affliction gigs in the month I was on the road with them. I'd watched them walk out, I'd watched them play, but I wasn't prepared to see West walking out onto a dark stage, his shoulders sagging. Where had my cocky Dark and Dangerous gone? Seeing him like that felt like someone had sucker punched me in the gut. Fuck, I was so confused.

  I watched with my arms curled around myself as they played song after song and as West scanned the crowd every chance he got like some perverted Where's Wally? When his gaze came my way, I found myself sinking back behind the people in front of me.

  "Usually," he said into the microphone, "this is the time we'd walk off stage and tease the fuck outta you guys for an encore." He glanced at Joe who gave him the thumbs up. "But not tonight." He cast his gaze onto the floor in front of him and his shoulders rose and fell as if he'd taken a deep breath for luck. "You guys may have read a lot of crap about me in the papers today."

  Um, fuck.

  "I know people say don't do drugs and it's like a fucking cliché. People laugh and tell them not to be such a drag. I don't care who the fuck you are…listen to them. Drugs almost took my life and destroyed everything else that meant anything to me. They cost me the woman I love. If you wanna get high, go out and chase a beautiful woman and fuck her stupid. Find a guy and ride him into oblivion." He let his head drop for a moment, his hand still on the microphone, the other on the neck of his guitar as a few random cheers and whistles broke the silence of the packed concert hall. When he looked back up, I was actually surprised at the determination on his face. "If you're out there tonight, wildcat, this one's for you."

  The opening chords to Wildcat (I'm in Love) echoed out into the venue and I blinked hard, trying to hold it together. Various photos flashed up on the screen behind the band, different images from all over the world, and in all of them were people's efforts in posting up the Wildcat posters. West's message to me. It was then I realized how far this thing stretched. I could run, but he'd still find me. If not in person, then through the song and the posters. He'd still be in my life wherever I turned. It was fucking brilliant, actually. Add that to the charring turmoil that was currently searing through my entire body and West had one hot mess on his hands.

  I let his voice wash over me, I let him have his say, I let the emotion behind his words into my heart and I knew that without a doubt, I'd be shoving my way to that stage door the moment the house lights went up. What I'd say when I finally came face to face with him again was another story.

  When the band finally walked off stage, and the last sounds of their reverb were silenced, I snapped out of my trance. The house lights flicked up and people started to turn and wander out of the venue. I pushed and shoved my way across the floor, going against the grain, earning myself a few angry glares and curse words, but I didn't fucking care. The bouncer at the stage door saw me coming and frowned, angling himself so he could watch the storm that was my approach.

  "I need to see Sasha," I barked at him. "Tell her Blair's here."

  The bouncer looked me over and nodded, disappearing through the door, leaving me to fidget anxiously and I turned to watch the crowd mill around. A few minutes passed before there was a tap on my shoulder. I turned to find Sasha smiling and gesturing for me to follow. She led me past the side of the stage, through a corridor that was bustling with stage hands and crew and stopped outside a nondescript looking door with one of those name plate things. There was nothing in it and it made me wonder where she was leading me. Down the garden path to insanity-ville. Population me.

  Opening the door, Sasha ushered me into a small box of a space that looked like a private dressing room. There was a table and mirror, and along one wall, a low three-seater couch.

  "I'll go get him," she said kindly. "Give me five."

  I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded, sinking down onto the couch. Squeezing my thighs together, I thought about what I was going to say. More to calm myself than anything because the moment he was here I knew all coherent thought would fly out the fucking window.

  The door opened, banging against the wall, and suddenly West was there, filling up the opening with his broad shoulders. His gaze met mine and something passed behind his eyes, but I wasn't sure what. All I felt was anger and my pussy constricting in on itself at the sight of his sweaty, delicious, mind-blowing body.

  "Are you trying to make me angry, because it's fucking working," I fumed, rising to my feet, trying to squash down the rage that was burning a hole through my gut.

  "It got you to come here, didn't it?" Each word he said carefully, like they were breakable, his gaze never leaving mine as he stalked towards me like the fucking predator he was.

  "You can't do this to me. You can't-"

  "I fucking can. I lo-"

  "We're a fucking car crash," I hissed, interrupting before he could say the one word that'd break my heart. "Total fucking wreckage."

  "That's the thing about flaming wreckage," he said, grabbing my arm and pulling me into his chest. "It's makes the front page every fucking time and as far as I'm concerned, we're front page every day of the week…wildcat."

  He held me so tightly, I didn't have a chance to pull away and hit him like I wanted to. His body agai
nst mine, all the emotions smashing into me, everything was fogging my mind up. I hated him and wanted to ride him, right here in this room, all at the same time.

  "It's okay," he murmured, sensing what I wanted. "It's okay to want release, Blair. It's okay to take it from me."

  Before I could stop it, a moan bubbled up in the back of my throat and he pressed into me, betraying how hard he was. West was always hard, wasn't he? Fucking horny bastard.

  "Take what you want, wildcat," he whispered, lowering his lips toward mine. "Even if it means nothing to you, then I'll take whatever scraps you'll throw my way."

  I couldn't take it anymore. He was fucking intoxicating, the way he smelt, the dominating way he held my body while giving himself to me. He was giving me what I'd always wanted. Control.

  Digging my fingernails into his scalp, I pulled him against me, sucking his bottom lip into my mouth and tugging desperately at it with my teeth. A strangled moan shuddered through his entire body as his tongue met mine in a blaze of agony. That's what this was. Agony. It hurt to touch him, to kiss him, but it felt so fucking good.

  I let my body take over and shoved my brain to the side, letting all the pent up sexual tension out. I deepened the kiss, our tongues entwining, clashing, devouring. My pussy was throbbing with the need to be touched, it was wet and ready and I needed his cock in me. I needed...

  "I need you to make me come. Make me come," I gasped desperately, pulling at his T-shirt.

  "Blair, are-" He stopped mid-sentence as I slid my hand down the front of his jeans and began stroking his already rock hard cock. His eyes rolled back as I stroked him, a strangled moan escaping through his parted lips. I needed what he could do with it, what only he could do.

  "Fuck me," I snarled against his mouth. "You want me to take what I want from you. I need to you fuck me, West. I need this from you. You owe it to me."

  Pulling my hand away, I stepped back and let my jacket fall to the floor. Crossing my arms, I tugged off my T-shirt and kicked off my boots. West's gaze never left me for one second, the noise from outside the room dropping away to nothing. I started on my jeans, undoing the button and unzipping the fly, then they were gone too, and I was just standing there in front of the man who smashed me to pieces in nothing but my bra and knickers. I was so fucking insane.