Home > The Consequence of Seduction (Consequence #3)(6)

The Consequence of Seduction (Consequence #3)(6)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

“But—”

“See ya!” I grabbed my coat and darn near collided with a wall in order to get away.

The minute I walked outside it started pouring rain.

I tried to hail a cab and only succeeded in getting drenched from head to toe. Hanging my head, I finally decided to walk back to my apartment. Was it wrong to wish to get mugged? Because that would at least prove to the universe that I wasn’t invisible.

Or that the only people that hit on me were either gay or crazy or—lucky me—both.

CHAPTER THREE

REID

“So?” Max barked into the phone. “How’d it go?”

I stared blankly ahead as the sound of the TV filled my large apartment. “Just tell me why you did it.”

Max sighed. “I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about, but could you please get there faster so I can go have sex?”

“Too much information.”

“Then talk faster, bitch!”

I must have been a real bastard in another life to get cursed with a brother like Max, one who would try the patience of ALL nuns, not just one of them—all of them. Even the old senile ones with hearts of gold.

“She knew I was hitting on her.”

Max was silent, then whispered, “Isn’t that the point?”

“No,” I roared. “She was in on it! You planted her!”

“I did no such thing!” Max argued back. “Why the hell would I do that? I wanted you to get on the horse, go for a ride, slap the pony, get yours—”

“I get it.” My temples throbbed.

“So, what would lead you to assume I planted the ass I wanted you to tap?”

“You kiss your fiancée with that mouth?”

“I do more than kiss her. Last night, I—”

“I’m sorry I asked,” I interrupted. “And the girl you planted accused me of being gay!”

Max burst out laughing.

I growled.

“Oh.” A few more chuckles. “I’m sorry. I was laughing with you, not at you.”

“I wasn’t laughing.”

“Why the hell not? It’s hilarious!”

“Good-bye, Max.”

“No, wait!” Max laughed louder. “See! This is what I was saying earlier! Your charm is misfiring. It’s like you’ve discovered the unlucky penny. You have to get out there and settle down. It’s time, man. At least the universe proved it to you so I wouldn’t have to.”

“Whatever.” I licked my lips. “I’ve got an early call time in the morning, so I’m going to bed.”

“Did you at least get her number?”

“Dude, she ran away from me.”

Silence.

I waited. “Max, you still there?”

“It’s sad when your balls start to work against you by rejecting all traces of females in your vicinity. I’ll add them to my prayer list.”

“Please don’t pray for my balls at the dinner table.”

“Silly, we pray for them in bed.”

“Good night, Max!”

“Night, Reid! Remember, get on the horse!”

“Right.”

I pressed “End” and threw the phone against the black leather couch. Max was the confused one, the deranged one. I was happy! I was just fine living the high life of a bachelor!

Hell, I was an actor, well known on Broadway and soon to be all over the media, especially considering I’d just been cast in the film role of the century playing opposite A-lister Mona James.

I didn’t need a woman.

I wasn’t off the horse, therefore there was no need to hop back on and ride it. Riding had never been the issue. I did just fine with one-night stands—no need to add a relationship to the mix.

And I hadn’t lost my touch with women. So what if I’d had a few bad dates in the past month? It wasn’t my fault my last date accidentally set herself on fire. To be fair, the candles had burned a bit out of control, but candles were romantic. I was setting the scene, damn it!

And the other two girls? Well, they just lacked—something. I wasn’t sure what, which was exactly how I’d worded it when I took them both out to a fancy dinner the night before my flight out to LA. I didn’t have time to separate the dates, and it wasn’t like we were serious. I couldn’t even remember one girl’s name, but when you’re in bed, does it really matter? I received wine in my face from one and a swift knee to the balls from the other, which meant I spent the majority of my five-hour flight with an ice pack on my crotch.

I refused to believe it was bad luck.

Bad luck was seeing a black cat and then getting hit by a semi, not going on bad dates with overly emotional women who got pissed because I refused to commit.

I flipped off the lights in the living room and made my way to the bedroom.

Sleep—that would cure everything. Besides, I was meeting with my new PR company in the morning. My manager was adamant that we use the best company in the business, considering this movie was going to either make or break my career. I hated that it was a necessity, but I wasn’t going to say no even though it was so expensive I wondered if each publicist came with their own private jet and small island.

Ridiculous that in this day and age I needed to have a glorified babysitter because I couldn’t be trusted on my own. Now, if it was Max, I’d get it. But I’d never had a problem being in the public eye. I’d just have to make that crystal clear when I met with them. Hell, I’d probably be the easiest client they’d ever had.

   
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