2. Kinsley
2
KINSLEY
O f course, Nash Beck lives in the nicest part of Los Angeles. The neighborhood is nice and clean. Each house has a freshly trimmed lawn, expensive cars parked in the driveway, and not a single speck of dirt on the house's exterior.
My parents begged me to buy a house in this part of the city, hidden away in the hills, but I wanted to live in a quiet area and stay away from the public eye as much as I could. Most of the residents in my neighborhood are older people who have retired and also want a quiet lifestyle away from the craziness of Los Angeles.
It’s the perfect place for me to settle down since I don’t want a massive mansion with too many bedrooms and bathrooms; I wouldn’t know what to do with them, or have time to clean them all. I’m not about that life.
I pull up beside a large black mansion with a gate taller than the one guarding Hell. Green vines lace the exterior of the house, wrapping around each other like a DNA strand. Thick foliage lines the edge of the property, creating some semblance of privacy from the neighbors. Multiple cars are parked in the driveway and the lights are on inside. I guess Nash got bailed out of jail today. That doesn’t surprise me. He’s been arrested more times than I can count on both of my hands and each time someone from his team is right there to bail him out.At least from what I’ve seen reported in the tabloids.
I chew on my bottom lip as I stare at the front door from the comfort of my car. Am I making the right decision by coming here at this time of the night? It feels impulsive, but being around my parents makes me like that. Always has. But this feels like next-level idiocy.
Meeting Nash could wait until tomorrow, but I know when the sun rises I won’t want to do anything about it because of my crazy ass schedule. I’m rationalizing this by telling myself I need to get this over and done with now so I can make my decision quickly.
I have no choice but to go in there and meet the man. Who knows, maybe he’ll surprise me and won’t be anything like what he’s perceived in the media.
Fat chance , my subconscious tells me, but I ignore it and get out of the car. Inhaling a deep breath, I walk toward the large wrought iron gate and find it’s unlocked. Walking through it and up the driveway toward the large double oak front doors, I can’t help but feel like I’m walking into Hell. A cold shiver races down my spine. Anything could come from this visit—both good and bad—and it’s making me nervous.
I knock on the door as soon as I step onto the front porch to avoid losing my nerves. I’m walking into what feels like the lion's den, so I need to act confident. Well, as confident as I can when I’m about to meet the man I could potentially be faking dating for six months. I push my shoulders back and steel the nerves coursing through my veins.
One of the doors swings open to reveal a man around my height with a buzzed haircut and brown eyes staring back at me. A cigarette hangs from his lips as his eyes rake over my body, eyeing me like I’m some kind of fucking meal.
Ew. Gross. If this is the kind of people Nash likes to hang out with, then we’re already off to a bad start.
“Can I help you, sweetheart?” he drawls, his voice thick like he has just woken up. A black short-sleeved button-down hangs from his thin shoulders, the buttons undone to reveal his torso. The protrusion of his ribcage from beneath the thin material captures my attention for a brief moment before I remind myself to focus on the reason why I’m here.
I clear my throat. “Uh, yes, you can. I’m here to see Nash. Is he around?”
The man squints. “Does he know you’re coming by?”
Well, he’s fucking got me there.
“No, but he knows who I am.” At least, I hope he does.
He chuckles dryly and shakes his head. “Yeah, that’s what they all say.” He takes a step to the side and points up the large, wooden spiral staircase that leads to the second floor. “He’s in his bedroom at the end of the hallway. You won’t miss it.”
My feet feel like they’re filled with lead, unable to take the first step inside. The man is watching me carefully, and I take this as my sign to hurry the up and get away from him. He’s creeping me out big time.
I nod at him before stepping into the foyer, the floorboards creaking beneath my weight, and take each step quicker than I normally would. Stale smoke coats the air, assaulting my nostrils. The need to get this meet and greet over and done with outweighs my nosiness of wanting to look around this beautiful home and take in the decor—if there is any—and whatever else there is to see.
Instead, I follow the creepy man’s directions and head straight down the hallway until my nose is almost touching the black door at the end. It’s the only door that is black in the hallway—the rest are white with cream walls surrounding them. From the corner of my eye, I notice there isn’t any artwork on the walls or photographs. Nothing to show Nash’s personality.
Inhaling a deep breath, I knock. I expect the door to fling open, but it doesn’t. Nothing happens. Is he even in there like the creepy man said he was?
I knock again. This time, a voice follows.
“Fuck off!”
I frown. Is this man for real? Is that how he talks to everyone? Well, I’m not going to let that fly. Not when I’m the one who would be helping him the most, considering his current track record with the media.
With a huff, I ignore his words and open the door. It flings open into a large bedroom that is bigger than most apartments in downtown Los Angeles. He lives like a fucking king out in the hills. I barely have time to take in the rest of the room before my eyes drift toward the large California King bed to the right fitted with sleek black sheets. Black seems to be his favorite color. I hate that we have that in common.
My eyes widen when I fully take in what is happening in front of me.
A woman is on her hands and knees while Nash Beck drives his hips into her from behind, her tits bouncing wildly as locks of blonde hair sticks to her sweaty neck. Her knuckles are pearl white as she grips the tousled bed sheets and drags her bottom lip between her teeth. Her eyes have basically rolled into the back of her head as she moans loudly.
Worst of all, he doesn’t bother to stop what he’s doing. Instead, he just fucking smiles at me.
I gasp when the realization of what I just walked in on catches up to me like a semi-truck slamming into me. Spinning on my heels, I turn away from them and cover my eyes with my hands. The sound of skin slapping against skin and soft moans reach my ears. I want to scream. I force back the panic threatening to implode in my chest as the sounds continue to ring in my ears.
What. The actual. Fuck ?
You’re such a good girl for me, Kinnie.
I squeeze my eyes shut and whisper to myself, “Stop it. Fight it.”
You’re so beautiful, and you’re all mine .
I can’t let the memories take over. Not now. Not ever. I certainly won’t allow him to see me as anything but confident. I refuse to appear weak to anyone, especially someone like Nash Beck.
“What the hell!” I shout, my cheeks flaming with embarrassment. I’m such an idiot for walking in like that. I should’ve at least knocked a few more times in the hopes that he would stop whatever he was doing to come to the door, but no. I had to barge in like a fucking lunatic.
Jesus.
“I told you to fuck off,” he responds gruffly, but I hear the small trace of amusement in his voice. The motherfucker still hasn’t stopped what he’s doing. Unbelievable . “What are you doing in here?”
“I came to see you about our… deal,” I answer, my voice barely audible over the slapping of skin and deep moans.
I know I should flee the room and wait until they’re done, but my feet are rooted to the brown shag carpet. Could this get any worse? I close my eyes and inhale a deep, calming breath to ward off the tingling in my chest. My body’s instinct is to completely shut down when I’m triggered, but I have worked too hard to break down in front of a man like Nash Beck.
“Harder, Nash,” the woman cries, and I could just about fucking die right on the spot.
You look so pretty, my sweet Kinnie. No one is going to care about you the way I do.
Nash grunts as he gives her what she wants, and I wish I could rip my ears off and throw them out the window. This is mortifying.
“Oh, are you that girl I’m meant to be dating?” Nash continues the conversation as if it’s the most normal thing in the world, completely ignoring the fact that he’s shoving his dick into a woman. His voice is rich and smooth like a shot of whiskey straight from the bottle.
“No—maybe—I don’t know.” I point to the open bedroom door. “I-I’m going to go.”
“Stick around,” he says. The words are followed by what sounds like his hand slapping the woman’s ass. She cries out at the contact. Kill me . “I’ll be done here soon.”
I don’t bother giving him a reply before I race out of the room, making sure to slam the door shut behind me. What I need right now is a bottle of bleach to clean out my tainted eyes and ears.
I can’t believe that just happened.
When I reach the foyer, the creepy man is standing in the doorway to what looks to be a large living room off to the left. I can’t see much of the room because I’m too focused on the way he’s looking at me.
“Oh, yeah. I forgot to mention he had a girl up there.” He shrugs. “I thought you were the second girl running late. That happens a lot with Nash.”
I groan and cover my face. This is worse than I thought. What the hell was I thinking wanting to give this man a chance to change my mind about this publicity stunt? How can I possibly fake date this man for six months when it seems he’s used to having a new girl in his bed every night? Sometimes two.
This is bad. Really fucking bad.
My feet pace the shiny floor of the foyer as I gain control of my breathing and steady my racing heart. I was so close to tipping over the edge of the cliff I’m constantly walking near at the sight of Nash with that woman, memories threatening to resurface that I have kept buried for a long time. But I refuse to let my past break me more than it has. I’m stronger now than I was all those years ago, so I have to remind myself of that whenever I feel my resolve wavering.
I have every mind to walk through the front door and forget this ever happened. I could ask Adam to tell James to shove his deal up his ass and just pray that It Girl goes well at the box office. But I don’t get a chance to do that before I hear approaching footsteps making their way down the staircase.
“Johnny, grab me and my new friend here a drink. I have a feeling we’re both going to need it.”
The creepy man standing in front of me nods. “Of course. I’ll bring it into your office.”
He scurries away a moment later, disappearing down the long hallway behind the staircase that I’m sure leads to the kitchen.
I close my eyes and exhale a steady breath. You can do this, Kin , I tell myself. All you have to do is talk to the man and see if you can both make this deal work .
I slowly turn around to face Nash. He’s standing on the last step of the staircase in nothing but a pair of black sweatpants that hang low on his hips. As my eyes drag up the length of his lean body, I try not to linger on the rigid muscles of his abdomen and chest, or look at the tattoos covering his right arm and parts of his torso.
When I meet his eyes, I can’t help but shiver at the sight of them. I knew he had Heterochromia because I had seen his face plenty of times on TV, but it’s a different story seeing them up close. They’re so much more intense, especially when they’re focused solely on me.
One eye is a bright blue that could be mistaken for the color of the ocean on a summer’s day, and the other is a haunting dark green that makes me feel like I’m walking in the depths of the Amazon rainforest. It’s stunning, to say the least. Strands of jet-black curly hair fall across his eyes, sticking to the light sheen of sweat on his forehead, and brush over the top of his shoulders. He certainly has the rockstar look about him with his sharp features and wicked grin.
I swallow hard. Oh, good lord. I had no idea he would be this handsome in person, but I can’t let it crumble my resolve. I’m here for one reason and one reason only.
I clear my throat and fold my arms over my chest. “It seems it didn’t take you long to finish up.”
Nash rolls his eyes at my emphasis on finishing. “Well, I was distracted by the crazy woman who had just barged into my room. Can’t blame me, can you?”
There are so many things I could say to that, but I let the words die on my tongue. Time and place, Kin . “Let’s get this over and done with, shall we? It seems we’re both not pleased about this arrangement.”
Nash doesn’t say anything. He simply gestures for me to follow him down the long hallway to my right. With a huff, I follow after him. My eyes rake over his broad back and the muscles in his shoulders. But what catches my eye is the large angel wings tattooed over his shoulder blades and down his back, the tips stopping at his waist. Holy shit. That must’ve hurt like a bitch to sit through. The design is intricate with lots of fine lines and detailed edges. It’s breathtaking, really. And also haunting.
When we reach the door to his office, I step inside and spot a large mahogany desk in the center of the room. Images of Dark Angel records line the wall behind it. A piano sits to the left of the room and beside it a crimson electric guitar. It feels calmer in here than the rest of the house. I don’t know why and I can’t seem to put my finger on it. Maybe it’s the black accents on the desk or the images of Greek mythology creatures on the wall. It could be that it’s just the two of us in here, away from that creepy man. I don’t know.
Nash walks behind the desk and sits down. He points to the two black suede chairs across from him.
“I’ll stand,” I mutter, and fold my arms over my chest.
He leans back in the black leather chair and folds his large hands over his bare stomach, the muscles of his six-pack rippling from the movement. The thick veins running up his arms don’t go unnoticed by me, and I swallow hard at the sight. “Suit yourself.”
I say with a huff, “Look, I don’t like the idea of this deal our managers made any more than you do, but I came to see if this—you—was worth agreeing to the stupid idea.”
Nash rolls his eyes. He likes to do that a lot. Asshole. “What’s your name again?”
My arms fall to my side and my fists ball tightly at his fucking audacity. “Are you serious ?”
“Or would you prefer blondie?” He quirks a challenging brow at me.
I would prefer to be anywhere but here to not have to deal with his attitude, but my impulsiveness had other plans.
“Kinsley,” I say through gritted teeth. My palms are beginning to sting from how deeply embedded my nails are, but I ignore the pain. Just more pale white scars on my palm that’ll serve as a reminder of my bad habit. “But my friends call me Kin.”
Nash licks his lips, his eyes traveling up and down the length of my body for the first time since meeting him. He takes in my baggy blue jeans and white sweater. The intensity of his two-toned eyes makes me swallow hard. This man is intense, to say the least. Everything he does is with purpose and without fear.
“Kin…” he drawls, meeting my gaze again. “Sounds like sin. Are you a sinner, Kinsley?”
What the?—
“What does that have anything to do with what we’re currently talking about?” I snap, a bite to my tone.
What the hell is his problem? You can’t just ask a stranger a question like that.
A wicked grin spreads across his face, showcasing his perfect teeth—which is odd considering how much drugs and alcohol he consumes, and the number of times he’s gotten into fistfights. How does he maintain his appearance with a lifestyle like that and still look like he’s just stepped off the cover of a Calvin Klein underwear shoot?
“I can see the darkness lurking beneath your eyes,” he says cryptically, his eyes meeting mine. “I know because I have the same darkness in me.”
Fuck . How can he read me so well?
I have spent years trying to simmer the darkness and hurt lurking within my soul so no one would ever find out what happened to me. It took years to learn how to mask the trauma from onlookers. How did he see through my facade after just meeting me?
“Tell me, does the darkness nip at your ankles when your back is turned? Does it threaten to swallow you whole when you’re alone in your room, lying awake at night? And has it been close to pulling you under to the point you almost let it consume you?”
I swallow hard. He’s hitting too close to home with that assessment, but I’m not going to tell him that. I barely know this guy, so there is no way in hell I’m going to reveal the deepest part of my soul to him. He doesn’t deserve it anyway, no matter how much darkness we share. I’m not going to ask about his, so he doesn’t need to know about mine.
“That’s none of your business,” I spit, but the waver in my voice and the way some of the syllables crack is blatantly obvious. “Can we get back to the topic at hand?”
Nash huffs and reaches for the carton of cigarettes on the desk in front of him. I watch as he flicks open what seems to be a custom black lighter with red angel wings etched into the base, matching the tattoo on his back, and lights the stick, ember flecks catching my eye as the edges of the thin white paper burn away.
I glance at the ink covering his right arm as he leans back in the chair. A detailed image of the Grim Reaper on his forearm flexes as he lowers his arm and blows out a puff of smoke. The flames around the symbol of death make the design appear more menacing as it mixes with the acrid air.
My heart races and I want to gag at the smell of the smoke circling around my head, but manage to swallow it down.
Time and place, Kin .
“Fine. What is it that you want to talk about?”
Finally, we’re getting somewhere.
“If I can trust you,” I say, uncurling my fists. “I want to know that if I agree to this deal you’re not going to fuck me over.”
He raises a brow at me. “Fuck you over? Now, why would I do that?”
“Because you’re… you . You don’t care about anyone but yourself.”
He feigns hurt, placing his hand over his heart. “Ouch, that fucking hurt.”
“Am I wrong?” I challenge, tilting my head to the side. When he doesn’t answer, I know I’ve hit the nail on the head. “If we go ahead with this contract, it’s only for six months and then we can go our separate ways.”
Nash waves his hand in the air as he takes another puff of the cancer stick. “My manager told me all of this.”
“Then what are your thoughts on it?”
He shrugs as smoke billows out of his nostrils and slightly parted lips. “I don’t care either way. If your pretty little ass can help clean up my image like James told me you can, then who am I to say no?”
I can tell by the tone in his voice he doesn’t care about anything in his life unless it’s making music, touring the world, and fucking an endless line of women. He doesn’t care about his public image at all, and it shows through the way he acts and talks. It’s his manager who cares about his image, not him.
I want to remind him that his image is everything, but who am I to tell this grown man what to do? He’s been in the music industry long enough to make a name for himself. I don’t think he cares either way if people like him or not if it means he can continue to live a rockstar lifestyle.
I huff. “Well, I care what will happen to my career if this deal blows up in my face, so I’m proposing some ground rules.”
Nash purses his lips as his features tighten. “Ground rules? It’s bold of you to assume I’m going to listen to you when I don’t know a damn thing about you.”
“If you want me to help stop your career from tanking, you’ll listen to these ground rules.”
The corner of his mouth lifts into a smirk. “You’re a feisty little thing. I like it.” He takes another puff of the cancer stick and waves his hand in the air. “Okay. Fine. What are your ground rules?”
Shit. I didn’t think he would agree to listen to them. A few ideas come to mind but only a couple stick out to me as being deal breakers if he can’t agree to them. I need to have some measures in place so this doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass.
“Okay,” I say slowly as I sit in the chair across from him. His eyes watch me intently, never leaving my face as I make myself comfortable. “First, you can’t be seen out in public with other women. It’ll shatter the illusion our agencies are trying to create.”
He nods but doesn’t say anything, so I continue.
“Second, besides having to attend scheduled events, we need to have a dinner date once a week and make sure we’re spotted by the paps. It’ll help build the narrative that we are a real couple and make it seem more believable and not a publicity stunt.”
“I don’t take women out on dates,” Nash comments dryly. “Why should you be the exception?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. It’s like I’m going in circles with this man. “Don’t make me repeat myself, Nash. You’ll do it, whether you like it or not. It’s only for six months and then you’re free to continue fucking bitches and not taking them on dates like you are now.”
His lip quirks at my remark, but I don’t wait for a response before I state my final condition for the deal. “And lastly, we need a public break up when the time comes.”
Nash frowns as he stubs his cigarette out in the dirty ashtray beside him. “Why?”
“Again, it needs to be believable,” I remind him. “If you agree to these ground rules, I might consider signing the contract.”
He folds his arms over his chest, making the muscles in his biceps and forearms pop. I can’t help but look at the swirling black dragon that curls up the left side of his torso and down his bicep. The muscles constricting make it seem like the creature is moving on his skin, coming alive. I clear my throat, hoping he didn’t catch me staring, and meet his eyes.
“Only if you promise not to fall in love with me.”
I snort out a laugh, unable to hold it in. Tears brim the corners of my eyes as I fight back the laughter. Nash doesn’t seem fazed by my outburst in the slightest.
“Look, I’m sure you’re not used to hearing a woman say this, but there is no way in hell I’m ever going to fall for you.”
“If you say so,” he says with a shrug. His tongue pokes the side of his mouth as he regards me for a moment, his stare intense. “You have yourself a deal, little devil.”
My eyes bulge at the nickname. “Wh-what did you?—”
A knock at the door interrupts me, and I glance over my shoulder just in time to see a woman with brown permed hair and blonde highlights walk into the room wearing the skimpiest hot pink lingerie set I’ve ever seen. It’s so see-through her nipples are visible through the thin material.
She struts into the room with her eyes locked on Nash, not even acknowledging me in the slightest.
I roll my eyes. Fucking hell, does this man ever sleep alone? I’m not even surprised this is a different woman from the one I walked in on earlier. He’s going to have a hard time keeping his extracurricular activities out of the spotlight once we sign the contract.
“Nashie, baby,” the woman drawls as she rounds the desk. She lifts her leg over his lap and straddles him, making sure to grind her ass into his crotch. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Nash licks his lips as he takes in the sight of the woman’s large breasts right in front of his face. His hands snake around her waist to rest on her ass, palming the skin roughly as he leans around her to look at me.
“You’re welcome to stay for another show if you want, little devil. I’m not opposed to an audience.”
Of course he’s a exhibitionist.
“I would rather not have to witness something like that ever again,” I retort and stand from the chair. The woman is already sucking on Nash’s neck while grinding against his hard length—the sweatpants leave nothing to the imagination—but his two-toned eyes are focused on me. “I’ll have my manager talk with yours about where to go from here.”
“I’ll be seeing you soon, little devil.”
I sigh as I turn and walk out of the room. A loud smack followed by a high-pitched giggle sounds in the room before I have the door shut behind me. I lean my back against it as muffled voices filter through it. My eyes flutter closed as I take in a deep, calming breath.
Fake dating Nash Beck is not going to be easy. I’m worried it’s going to drive me to insanity.