“I’d love to meet them,” Lex speaks up. His voice is so masculine yet smooth as silk. “I’m a huge Royal Kings fan.”
“Sure, if you can pry them away from the Playboy Bunnies,” I joke.
The three of them laugh. “Easier said than done, right?”
I continue to chat for a few more minutes before Josie finds me and requests that I head on outside to film some additional scenes with a few Hollywood big names who are at the party.
I quickly excuse myself, promising Lex I will find Ash and Logan and send them his way.
We set up outside where I clip on my mic, and film for another hour. Our discussion revolves around weddings and my relationship with Wesley. I honestly couldn’t have thought of a more mundane topic, but Cliff gave the camera crew strict instructions to film me discussing my wedding plans. Fictional wedding plans since we aren’t actually getting married!
I make sure I don’t have any alcohol in hand while filming, but when a waiter walks past with a tray of drinks I reach out and grab a glass, downing it in one go when Josie uses the restroom.
This wedding talk does nothing to curb my anxiety. Every time I think about it, I resent Wes even more. I bet he’s not being filmed talking about the wedding because he’s a guy. Fucking sexist bullshit.
Karl’s now joined Josie and asks me to walk through the house and find Wesley so we can finish up taping. I keep walking and stop just shy of the fire-pit where Logan’s sitting next to some woman. He hands her a wine, and despite the bullshit he said earlier she’s a fucking blonde.
In the corner of my eye, I see his gaze shift to meet mine. I quickly move on, ignoring the jealousy building up inside me. You have no right to feel that way—ignore, ignore, IGNORE.
Inside the house, Karl moves the camera around the room capturing what I’m witnessing. I continue walking, pretending Logan’s behavior doesn’t affect me whatsoever because it shouldn’t, and I’m terrified the camera will pick up my irrational emotions.
Wesley’s moved to the main living room cozied up in the middle of women only. There appears to be no men around him, and oddly, it bothers me more than it should. I still care about him, and I hate admitting that.
“Here’s my baby,” he slurs. “Come sit on my lap?”
I don’t sit on his lap. Instead, ask the skank beside him to shove over.
“Did I tell you girls how much I love her? She’s going to be my wife.” He laughs, grabbing my neck with his hand and pulling my lips toward his. I watch him pull back with mixed emotion written all over his face. “You smell different.”
My instinct is to sniff my armpits, but the more he stills the more I become paranoid. I shouldn’t smell of anyone... Logan hasn’t been near me. Stop being so paranoid. “I’ve been mingling with everyone, hugging everyone…”
He continues to watch me then follows through with a laugh. “Oh, yeah.” Sliding his hand up my thigh, he leans into my ear. “I don’t care what you want. I’m going to fuck you tonight.”
“Stop it!” I tell him, pushing his hand aside. “You’re drunk.”
He leans back in and I know the microphone can’t pick up too well over the noise in the room, but Wes strategically removes his mic.
There’s a commotion near the entrance, a fight has broken out between two men. Karl turns to face them and film.
Wes grabs my thigh, applying firm pressure. “You think someone else can touch you? Then think again. You’re coming home with me and the second we walk through that door, I’m going to take back what’s mine. I’m done waiting for you.” His demand to take me without my consent angers me beyond belief. How dare he! Wes thinks I so easily will forget what he did? I know I’m not thinking straight. I know the champagne’s not only expensive, but it is rather potent clouding any rational thoughts or any ability to remain civilized.
He doesn’t own me.
No one fucking owns me!
“You’re a jerk. I’m not coming home. So, do whatever the hell you want!” I storm off and start looking for Ash and Logan. Searching everywhere, Karl tries to keep up with me, calling my name frantically. I notice Ash huddled in the corner with his head buried in some girl’s neck. I stomp to them, quick to pull him away.
“What the fuck, Emmy?”
“We’re going.”
“I’m busy.” He motions with his eyes to the girl next to him.
“He’s married,” I shout at her. “Did you know that? Or you don’t care ‘cause you just want to be known as a whore?”
The girl stands up on her platform heels, her skimpy dress pulled up past her knees. She has on way too much mascara, so much so you can barely see her eyes in between her thick lashes. “Who you calling a whore?”
“Uh... you?” I bark with a smile, crossing my arms firmly over my chest.