Torrid Love: Friends to Lovers Romance (Bad Boy Studs Book 1) Read online

  “And there’s Nana Irene,” Roark says cutting through my gloomy thoughts. “She fought the courts—and Mom—to the grave to save you from going back to The Fashion District. She may have lost the fight in the end, but it’s not for lack of determination. If that isn’t love, I don’t know what is.”

  Mom hated Nana with a vengeance. A judge who doesn’t know anything about how fucked up my mother was made a decision that was like a prison sentence. Nana retaliated. Mom made it her life mission to spew as much venom as she could towards my grandmother, accusing her of knowing where my father was hiding and protecting the lowlife. Mom was wrong. Nana hadn’t heard from her son since he skipped town.

  I stare at my brother harder. “Those are family ties,” I argue. “And why are we rehashing things I already know? It’s not as if I don’t remember where I come from.” I can’t help my irritation.

  Roark shoots me a crooked smile. “Because you seem to believe there’s only one shade of love.”

  “Says the guy who’s been in a long loving relationship with a woman for years,” I quip. Sarcastic? You bet. “Oh, no, wait. You’ve never been in a relationship in your life,” I roll my eyes. “Rich, really rich, big brother.”

  “I know I’m nowhere near Rory. I get why you don't let women close enough to develop feelings. I’m the same way. You and I deliberately choose flings who don’t want anything beyond a quick fuck because being abandoned creates trust issues. I’m nearly forty and still trying to get my act together—”

  “Then spare me the lecture,” I throw in his face.

  “You know what differentiates us?”

  “No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

  “You’re right,” he flashes me a mocking grin. “I’m a lost cause. I’m getting up there in age and with each passing year, I’m more and more jaded. Maybe if I had rescued a pretty girl in high school, there would still be hope for me,” he lets out a laugh. “All I’m saying is you’re in a different boat. You have someone like Dom in your life. You already trust her—implicitly. And you love her deeply––”

  “As a––”

  “I know, I know, as a friend.” He allows for a pregnant pause. “I don’t even have that with a woman. Never have.” Another pause. “Dom is determined, smart, gorgeous and loyal to a fault. And she’s always been yours, Rod.” I open my mouth to rebut, the expression on his face convinces me otherwise. “So now, the question is––especially after Saturday night––do you think she’s worth going after? It’s that simple, little brother.”

  “I couldn’t have said it better. Decide,” Loki repeats. “Once you do, everything else will fall into place.”

  They make it sound so easy.

  CHAPTER 20

  Dominika

  “I swear to God I’m going to end up cross-eyed,” I complain.

  I rotate my head in an effort to dislodge the kink in my neck from hours of pouring myself wholeheartedly into my work. It’s to no avail. My whole upper body aches.

  “Thanks a lot, Auburn Sorrel for being completely clueless.”

  Loki practically assaulted me yesterday morning in between takes to beg me to fix Auburn’s mistakes. Given the complexity of the video, I knew I would have my work cut out for me. I didn’t expect it to be this bad. Auburn screwed up monumentally. Translation, it’ll take me a couple of weeks before I present the band with a kick ass music video. I guess I can’t complain too much because Loki promised me a generous bonus. Since Joel and his band will be bouncing around from one interview to another for the next two days, the timing couldn’t be better.

  I need a break.

  I look at the time on my iMac and decide I need to put something in my stomach before I pass out.

  “Lunchtime!”

  One of the advantages of having my head wrapped in my work like this is there’s no room for Rod Wolfe. This consuming busyness allows me to cast him from my thoughts. It also prevents me from replaying my conversation with Joel. On one hand, his offer is tempting, on the other, it’s so life changing, I don’t know if I have the guts to take him up on it. And of course, the idea of being away from Rod for six months doesn’t weigh into my indecision.

  Right.

  I ready myself to get up from my chair, when my phone rings. I pick up immediately.

  “Hey, Marissa!”

  “Hi, Dominika! I hope I’m not catching you at a bad time,” she says.

  Marissa Feiffer is Rod’s executive assistant.

  “Actually, you’re preventing me from jumping behind the wheels of my car to track down Auburn through the city and strangle him with my bare hands. He’s a poor excuse for a video editor. Even his skills as a director are lamentable.”

  “That bad?”

  “I had better skills at fourteen.”

  “Yikes.”

  “I may even have to reshoot parts of it. Thank God there are hours and hours of footage I can hopefully salvage something from or else it would cost Rod and Loki a fortune in production.”

  “Well, that’s why the bosses keep raving about you. You’re their secret weapon,” she laughs.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “Oh, please, you don’t need it. You have mad skills and talent coming out of your yin yang.”

  I blush even though she can’t see me.

  “Is your boss asking you to do his dirty laundry?” I ask.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Are you calling me because Rod has a request, but instead of picking up the phone, he’s going through you?”

  I haven’t heard from him since I left him standing there at the studio yesterday afternoon. It’s weird. We’ve talked or texted each other every day since we became best friends. Even when he was traveling, we’d still be in touch.

  “Nah. The boss was at an offsite meeting until half an hour ago. I’m calling because someone has a not-so-secret admirer.”

  “You lost me.”

  “As Rod was walking into the office, this delivery guy holding the biggest bouquet of flowers I’ve ever seen in my entire life was also entering the building. Said bouquet, had your name on it.”

  “Flowers for me?”

  “Not just any flowers. We’re talking top of the line. Primo. The best of the best. And the sender is pretty cute, if you ask my opinion.”

  I guess they aren’t from Rod.

  “Are you going to enlighten me?”

  “So it’s true?”

  I expect her to elaborate, but she doesn’t.

  “What’s true?”

  “You’re seeing, Joel. I guess last night’s date went really, really, really well.”

  “It was just dinner.”

  “These stunning flowers say otherwise,” she argues. “Soooo… you guys are really dating. Wow.”

  The woman is relentless when she’s trying to get to the bottom of something.

  “This is LA… the land of smoke and mirrors. Just because I shared a meal with a guy doesn’t mean anything more.”

  “Oh, come on, you can tell me. I won’t tell a soul,” she cajoles.

  “My lips are sealed,” I mock.

  “You’re no fun. In any case, your maybe-boyfriend—”

  “You’re impossible!”

  “What? You’re not giving me much of a choice than to come to my own conclusions and we all know how dangerous that can be.” I laugh. “As I was saying, Joel sent you a spectacular arrangement from Eric Buterbaugh on Melrose Ave. He’s been voted––five years in a row––top florist in the city by voop.com. I don’t care much about Gail Valtrow, but her blog is pretty addicting. In any case, your maybe-boyfriend selected the Parisian Flair arrangement—all white flowers with a few anemones here and there. The monochromatic color schematic is stylish—like you.”

  She sounds like a professional commentator.

  “I’m grateful, but Joel knows my studio is next door. Why would he have the flowers delivered at Pending Inference’s studio?”

&nb
sp; “I think your maybe-boyfriend is sending a not-so-subtle message to your best friend.”

  I didn’t see that one coming.

  I’m so taken aback, I don’t even dare to ask what prompted her comment.

  Best to move on.

  “I’m sorry about that,” I say. “Let me get Morgan or Felicity to drop by and pick up the bouquet—”

  “Oh, it’s more than flowers.”

  “Really?”

  “Uh-huh. There are also two boxes. One is really heavy and they both have your name on them.”

  “Wow.” Joel went all out. He’s selling me hard on this idea.

  “Don’t worry, Rod took care of everything.”

  “As in, he threw everything in the garbage?”

  “You’re hilarious. No, my boss is a gentleman. He took everything to your studio and placed them in your office. FYI, the crystal vase weighs a ton. Joel certainly didn’t skimp.”

  “Rod did that?”

  “Yup! I just called to give you the heads-up.”

  “Thank you,” I say absentmindedly.

  “Alright, got to go. I’ll let you at it. Have a great afternoon, Dom. You’re in tomorrow?”

  “Yes, in the afternoon. Thanks for the call, Marissa. See you tomorrow.”

  I hang up and just stare at my phone in my shock.

  From Marissa’s description, the bouquet is stunning. I have no doubt something dazzling is hiding in the heavy box. Ditto for the second one. But none of those things are a source of consternation. Rod’s attitude is. From what I witnessed yesterday, I would’ve never expected him to react that way. I guess there is a gentleman hiding behind the gruff wolf.

  My stomach growls, reminding me I desperately need food.

  Twenty minutes later, I’m sitting in front of an enormous homemade Cobb salad. I devour my food in a few forkfuls. Once satiated, and after washing my plate, I head upstairs to my office. I barely have time to drop my butt into my seat when my phone rings.

  “Hey, Elsa!” I shout when I pick up.

  “Hey, Dom!” my good friend shouts back.

  “Did they unshackle you?” I laugh.

  “We’ve wrapped for the day. It’s already eleven at night here in Croatia. I’m enjoying a fabulous glass of wine and I thought I’d touch base. How’s LA?”

  “Perfect weather, as always. That’s one thing I’ll never miss about London. I loved the British experience and culture, the weather, not so much. I’m spoiled here in California. That said, Croatia’s weather is pretty dreamy.”

  “You won’t hear me complaining about the sun or the sea… or the hot men.” We both laugh. “How was it getting back into the swing of things?”

  “Jetlag is a bitch––”

  “Of course.”

  “It’s been back to the grind since yesterday. I’m only now starting to feel human again.”

  “It takes a few days,” Elsa sympathizes.

  “How are things on the set of the most popular fantasy serial drama in TV land?”

  Elsa is a hairdresser on the set of Risen Slayers. They film all over Europe. For the past few months, they’ve been posted in Croatia. I was able to visit her for three days while I was in Europe.

  “It’s good to be me,” she giggles. “Seriously, it was another grueling fifteen-hour day—I had to be on set at seven o’clock this morning. I’ve been working in the movie and TV industry for too long to complain. And as you know, I absolutely love what I do.”

  “You do.”

  Our passion for our chosen professions is something we have in common. Being violated by a predator is another.

  Elsa Dewsbury and I are good friends. She’s two years older than me. In many ways, we’re very different. I doubt we would’ve become friends had it not been for the fact we sought counseling at the same sexual trauma support group for women.

  “I was calling to check up on you.”

  I frown into the phone. “Why?”

  “How quickly she forgets.”

  “Are you going to give me more than that to go by?”

  “All the weird tension between Rod and you,” she reminds me. “Did you talk to him?”

  Overwhelmed by my colliding feelings for my best friend, I opened up to Elsa when I went to visit her. With everything that’s happened since I got back, my promise to her slipped my mind.

  “Sort of.”

  “Sort of?”

  “Yeah.” I let out a long exhale. “We did more than talk.”

  “That’s good, right?”

  “Well…” I hesitate.

  “Well what?”

  “I don’t know how to say this. I’m still trying to wrap my head around everything that’s transpired between Rod and I since I got back to LA.”

  “Oh, God, did you have a fight?”

  “Actually, we had two, but that’s after…” I let my words trail.

  “After what?” Elsa presses.

  I still don’t answer.

  “Dom, do I have to fly to LA overnight to shake it out of you?”

  I can’t help but laugh.

  “Things got intimate between Rod and I on Saturday night—”

  “You slept with each other?”

  “Yeah.”

  To my bewilderment, I hear roaring laughter on the other side of the phone.

  “It’s about time,” Elsa says when she finds her composure.

  “I didn’t expect that kind of reaction.”

  “I’m not sure why you’re surprised. You had confessed your feelings for him had changed, but you didn’t know if it was mutual. You saw him as more than just this friend, but didn’t want to compromise a pretty amazing friendship by telling him you were falling for him… which, I’m certain happened way before you were willing to admit it to yourself.” She’s absolutely right. “In any case, it was killing you because you were living in no man’s land—too chicken to just tell him, yet, tormented by the fact you felt compelled to keep it bottled up. I guess Rod made the decision for both of you.”

  “He did, but now things are really awkward between us.”

  I can’t lose this friendship. I’m an only child. I’m distant from my family in Europe. My dad never looked back after leaving us. My mother and I barely talk. Rod is all I have.

  “Do you want to start from the beginning?”

  Over the next half hour, I spill my guts, keeping the more salacious parts of the story to myself.

  “Wow! It’s like a volcano waiting to erupt. Talk about combustive. So why did you end up fighting?”

  Leave it to Elsa not to miss a beat.

  “You know how uncomfortable I can get––more like weirded out––about sex. It’s not nearly as bad as it once was, but there’s always that underlying fear—”

  “Even with Rod?”

  “No, not with him. Some of his questions were potential landmines and I guess he sensed my uneasiness. Rod being Rod, he started scratching the surface. My defenses went up and I pushed him away. The second fight happened yesterday before I went for dinner with Joel Banner—”

  “Wait. What? You had dinner with the lead singer of Brawn Impulse?” Elsa shouts. “After you made out with your best friend the ex-rocker?” Her voice goes up several octaves. “Girlfriend, you’re my new hero.”

  “You make it sound so sordid.”

  “How many women make out with two rock stars within the span of twenty hours?”

  “I wouldn’t know because my dinner with Joel was purely business.”

  “Oh.” I hear the disappointment in her voice. “Nothing happened?”

  “Other than a mind-bending proposal that could alter my life forever, no.”

  I quickly tell her all about Joel’s offer.

  “Holy shit! You have big decisions to make.”

  “I do.”

  We both remain silent for a few short seconds.

  “I’m glad Rod is the one who helped you move forward. At least you felt safe with him.”

  “I alw
ays feel safe with him. Everything was amplified when we were together. I not only felt safe, but I also felt cherished beyond belief. He was patient, caring and considerate. I know those adjectives don’t necessarily come to mind when you think about sex with a bad boy like Rod, but for some incredible reason he managed to make it kinky and loving.”

  “Sometimes, you need a good man to wipe the slate clean,” Elsa says.

  “Can you ever really forget an asshole?” I ask.

  “I didn’t say forget, Dom. I doubt people like us can ever forget the monsters who robbed something from us, but we can’t let them prevent us from enjoying intimacy. I know exactly where you’re coming from. Last summer, I had to call in reinforcements.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was stuck. Every time I started dating a guy, I would stress out to the point of being physically sick, dreading when he’d want to have sex. My anxiety was so high, it was a self-sabotaging exercise. Of course, the guy would break things off because I was a mess. Jason had moved back to my parents’ house after his latest company had failed.” Her brother is determined to become the next dot-com king. “Alex was hanging out with him for the evening. Jason drank a little too much and fell asleep. Alex and I started talking and one thing led to another—”

  “Alex? Your older brother’s best friend?”

  “Yeah. I had a long-time crush on him and it turns out it was mutual. I told him what had happened to me and how I desperately wanted to get past my trauma—or at least not freak out like I always did when it comes to sex. So last summer, Alex taught me how to trust again.”

  “Wow. You never said anything.”

  “I felt weird sharing because he’s my brother’s best friend.”

  “You didn’t want more than a summer fling?”

  “Alex was chasing after his own dreams. He had his sights set on Tokyo. It was right at the time I found out I got the job on Risen Slayers. It was perfect in many ways. What we shared was really meant to only last a season. It was never supposed to be forever. We didn’t have the deep connection you and your best friend share.” She pauses. “From your question, should I assume you want more with Rod?”

  “I’m not sure of anything right now,” I confess.