Page 17 of Addicted to the Bad Boy
I can’t wait any longer.
Four days. That’s how long it’s been since I’ve seen Mira. I’ve had the photo of Tyler cheating on her for five, and it’s driving me insane. Thinking about what to do with it has me twisted up, but no matter how many different ways I slice it, I always come to the same conclusion: Tyler is an unfaithful, arrogant, narcissistic piece of shit who doesn’t deserve her, and I’m sick and tired of watching the days tick by getting closer and closer to their wedding.
I’m done.
Done watching him pretend like he deserves her, done watching him drive to Lake Chelcuya to cheat on her, done playing over stomach-churning visions in my mind of him putting hands on my princess on their wedding night. Mira deserves better. She deserves to be cherished, worshipped, loved. And she sure as hell doesn’t need me standing back like a pussy just waiting for her to be sold off like cattle.
I’ve waited long enough.
My boots hit the concrete like gunfire as I stride out of the shop, my hands curled tightly around my phone. I can practically feel the energy emanating out of it. The energy ofthe evidence. Clear, undeniable evidence of Tyler’s infidelity. Unabashed and grinning, loving every second of his hands wrapped around the ass of the blonde he was bragging about at the bar.
Goddamn son of a bitch.
As a Heartless Bastard, I’ve seen a lot in my life—blood, bruises, fire, destruction—but nothing burns me like the thought of Mira being betrayed like that. Harmed by a man who cares only for himself. When I think of her eyes red, tears streaking down her cheeks, her lips trembling, and sobs falling from her lips, adrenaline courses through my veins, sending me straight to the edge.
I know where he is right now. He always eats at the same overpriced sandwich shop where all the rich pricks in Chesterville go like it’s their own little secret club or something. I’m not the kind of guy they’re used to seeing there, so when I park my bike across the street and start to walk over, the man watching the door instantly goes on alert.
“May I help you, sir—” he asks, his voice weak and trembling.
“I’m here for Tyler,” I reply, my voice cutting through the air like a razor blade. The man hesitates, glancing behind him.
“Is he expecting you?”
“Look at me,” I growl. “You think I’d show up here looking like this if hewasn’texpecting me?”
I watch his eyes scour my leather jacket, my torn jeans and shirt, my tattoos and messy hair. After a moment, he nods. “Corner booth in the back.”
Wrong move, pal. Bullshit like that wouldneverget you past the door at the Heartless Bastards clubhouse. But a softie like this isn’t used to coming up against actual force. He steps aside, and I brush past him into the dimly lit space.
I spot Tyler instantly. Hair slicked back, Patek Phillipe watch shining on his wrist. You could buy yourself a car with the priceof that thing. He’s cracking up to whoever he’s talking to on his phone. I make a beeline for him and slide in the booth opposite. I think I catch a glimmer of recognition in his eyes as he pauses his conversation. Maybe he recognizes me from Jayne’s the other night.
“Hey, Perry, I gotta go. Yeah, I’ll catch you later about that deal.” He hangs up and cocks his head as he looks at me, then takes a sip of what looks like whiskey. “Who the hell are you?”
Nope. Doesn’t remember me. But that’s no surprise. We had no direct contact, and he was drinking with his buddies.
“That doesn’t matter,” I reply, opening my phone and pulling up the picture. “What matters is this.”
I show it to him.
For a moment he stares, but then he bursts out laughing. “Yeah? And?”
“And I don’t think it would be good for you if this got out. Do you?”
This causes him to laugh even harder. He takes another sip of his drink and throws an arm over the back of his seat.
“This is about Mira?” he asks. “You really think I give a damn if she sees that? Hell, if she doesn’t know I’m seeing other women by now, then she’s even dumber than I thought.”
My right hand curls into a fist, and my lips purse in anger. I’m getting hot. Burning with fury at this sick bastard. I’ve never met someone so self-centered in my life. I’m dying to knock his teeth down his throat, but that wouldn’t solve anything. In fact, that would make even more problems for me.
“No, I don’t think you care ifshesees it,” I reply. “But I do think your boss, her father, would care if these got released say…online? Or to a couple of journalists I know?”
I’m bluffing—about the journalists. But releasing this online wouldn’t be hard at all.
His Adam’s apple shifts up and down as he swallows hard, and I see the edges of his eyes widen.Yeah, try and hide the fact that you’re scared, bastard.
“Hang on a second—”
“You’re a real son of a bitch, you know that?” I growl, leaning in on him. “You were going to marry this sweet, innocent princess? Let her walk down the aisle with you, looking like an angel, while you were out there sticking your dick in any woman who fell for your bullshit?”
