Bad For Me (My Forbidden Rockstar) Page 2

  “Daddy, I know, it’s just-”

  “You’re hurting my feelings, she’s very special to me and I want you two to finally meet,” he admits.

  I cave.

  “Alright, Daddy. I’ll be there.”

  I hiccup a little too loudly.

  “Annabelle, have you been drinking? What time is it?”

  “Umm, I maybe had a glass or two of wine.”

  I can practically hear my dad roll his eyes over the phone.

  “I’ll send a car for you at five. Be ready.”

  Oh, hooray.

  “And Annabelle, wear something other than your rocker jeans.”

  Ouch. That hurt. I’ve been practically living in my rocker jeans.

  The ones that Sid gave me.

  If I’m honest with myself I still love him.

  Bastard.

  Chapter Two

  Annie

  Ten of five rolls around, and I am dressed and blow-dried to perfection. My dad will be beyond happy. My hair is soft and wavy, thanks to the diffuser on my blow dryer and Elle’s handiwork with a large barrel curling iron.

  I’m wearing acceptable makeup, meaning no heavy black eyeliner, and I even put on my old favorite Berry Kiss lip-gloss. To complete my girly ensemble, I’m wearing a teal and white tunic dress, with matching white sandals.

  “You look beautiful!” Elle says happily. She bites her lip, unsure if she should continue.

  “Go ahead, and say it.”

  “Well, I haven’t seen you look this good, since you know.” Elle’s voice trails off and I hear everything she doesn’t say. Since you and Sid ended things. Since he ripped your fucking heart out.

  I suddenly feel much older than twenty-four.

  World-weary.

  How at twenty-four can I feel so jaded against men? Against life?

  I hiccup again.

  “How much wine did you drink?” Elle asks, narrowing her eyes.

  I shrug. “Not enough to help me get through this dinner.”

  I hear a horn beep and look outside to see a sleek black limo.

  Holy hell, my dad is embarrassing.

  He can’t just send a town car; he has to send a freaking limo.

  Sometimes he can be so ostentatious.

  Elle bursts out laughing. “Is he happy with you or mad at you?”

  “I have no idea,” I sigh, giving her a quick hug and heading out the door.

  Sometimes I really can’t understand my father. I wonder if he sent this ridiculous limo to try to please me - or to embarrass me for taking so long to meet Roxie.

  Either way, I get the point.

  The driver rushes out of the vehicle when he sees me coming, opens the door, and gives me a little bow.

  Oh, please.

  I grimace and climb into the limo.

  I immediately decide that I need a drink. Perhaps I will find my much-needed vodka in the back of this limo.

  I search through every shelf and drawer, but only find Cokes and water.

  I push the button to send down the partition between the driver and I.

  “Excuse me, but is there any alcohol back here?”

  I see the driver grin sheepishly in the rearview mirror.

  “I’m sorry, Miss, but Mr. Winterford made it clear not to have any alcohol in the limousine.”

  Of course he did.

  I snatch a Coke, and pull the tab back a little too hard.

  Driving my beat up car around a bit longer seems a lot more appealing than going to this dinner tonight.

  I settle back to enjoy the ride to my father’s home. We take a beautiful scenic route, and I look out my window at all the tall palms and lush homes we pass.

  All too soon, we are rolling up the steep driveway to my father’s mansion. I didn’t grow up in this home, but it feels like my home now, even though it's far more room than anyone could ever need.

  My dad’s jewelry business didn’t start taking off until I was fifteen, and by the time I was eighteen he had become a multimillionaire. That was the same year he dumped my mom and began dating trophy women half his age. My mom recovered quickly, she got a hefty piece of dad’s new fortune, and relocated to the East Coast. I don’t blame her for wanting to distance herself. My mom likes to play the victim, but I know she wasn’t an angel during their marriage either.

  The driver jumps out and opens the door for me. I walk past the large bubbling fountain and up to the ornate front doors. I ring the doorbell, and the housekeeper, Clara, let’s me in immediately.

  “Annabelle!” she says happily, and I smile at her. Clara has been with my dad for five years, and she has always treated me like her own daughter. I lean in and give her a hug.

  “I can’t believe your daddy got you here,” she whispers.

  I know exactly what she means. She can’t believe that my dad actually got me to come to his house while Roxie was there, too.

  I nod at Clara, not wanting to talk about it. My buzz has all but worn off, and now I am really doubting my decision to come here. I always have a hard time stomaching my dad’s bimbos, and this was bound to be a real shit-show.

  “Well come on in, honey, and let me take you to your daddy and Roxie. They are in the sun room.”

  Usually my dad likes to have pre-dinner drinks on the patio, but I know it’s too hot today. LA’s normally mild weather has been plain awful lately, and no one wants to sit outside during a heat wave.

  I follow Clara down the hall, and my sandals click loudly in the hallway. I’m used to all the obnoxious, fancy art that hangs downstairs, but I notice some new pieces hanging on the wall now. My dad doesn’t have the greatest taste in art, and a lot of his choices are ugly, brightly colored modern pieces that look like they were made by a five year old.

  But I see a Monet, a Renoir and a Degas.

  Christ, are they real? And when did he develop such good taste?

  I walk into the sunroom and find my father standing there, looking as handsome as ever, his salt and pepper hair is slicked back and his bright blue eyes are shining with pride for me that I probably don’t deserve. He’s dressed in tan slacks and a tailored white shirt.

  And he looks happy.

  Really, really happy. Crap. He must really love this Roxie.

  Then a woman gracefully walks towards my father from the other side of the room.

  Roxie.

  I try not to let my jaw drop...she is not what I expected at all.

  She looks part punk and part refined. It’s the strangest combination.

  And she looks to be fairly close to my father’s age.

  Unbelievable.

  Roxie is tall and slender, and I can imagine she must kill in a bathing suit, even at her age. She’s dressed in slim, cropped black pants and black heels, with a sleeveless plum blouse that shows off her toned arms. Her skin is a normal shade, not overly tanned like my dad’s usual women. She has a lovely face with high cheekbones and big eyes. She looks real.

  But most shocking is her hair. It’s black, short and spiky with a purple streak at the front.

  I can’t help but stare.

  “Hi Annabelle. I’m Roxie,” she says, and her voice is smooth and friendly.

  “Annie,” I mumble as I go to shake her hand. Her grip is firm.

  She is nothing like the simpering little girls my dad usually falls for.

  I notice the beautiful diamond on her finger. I’m sure Daddy designed it himself. It’s stunning and Roxie catches me looking at it.

  “It’s lovely isn’t it?” she murmurs. Then she smiles broadly and pulls me into a surprise hug.

  “It’s just so nice to finally meet you!” she exclaims.

  I sort of hug her back, I struggle as I try to wrap my mind around my dad’s completely appropriate fiancé. I thought for sure she would be some bimbo that wasn’t much older than me and only after my dad’s money. But I get the strange feeling that she could care less about my dad’s money. It strikes me that she might even have her own mone
y.

  “Annabelle is a singer, too,” my dad boasts proudly.

  I’m sure Roxie already knows this about me, and I catch my dad’s last word.

  Too.

  What does that mean?

  “Oh, are you a singer?” I ask Roxie.

  She laughs loudly. “Oh, heavens no! My son is a vocalist.”

  Of course he does. Everyone in LA is trying to make it at something. He’s probably an actor, too.

  “How nice,” I say, trying to smile. The last thing I feel like doing tonight is talking about music.

  My dad pours me a Coke and hands it to me.

  I shoot him an annoyed look.

  “Don’t you have anything stronger, Daddy?” I ask sweetly.

  “Not for you, dear,” he answers in the same sweet tone.

  Roxie smiles, and she does well to hide the slight discomfort that I can tell she's feeling. I’m too tired from being upset all day, plus my dying buzz is giving me a headache, so I give up and lounge across the soft white couch by the windows. I look out into the back yard and see that the landscaping has changed a bit. It’s filled with lots of pink and purple now.

  I turn around to say something and I see Roxie smiling at me.

  “I guess you’ve noticed I made a few changes,” she smiled.

  My dad drifted to the back of the room, and I decide I have no reason to be aloof to Roxie. I already like her more than I expected, and I feel guilty for disliking her before meeting her.

  “I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to meet you,” I apologize, ducking my head with embarrassment. “You’re not what I expected at all.” I twist my hands nervously in my lap, and wish that I had painted my nails.

  Roxie laughs again; and it's a throaty, refined sound.

  “Don’t worry,” she says waving her hand, “I know I’m not your father’s usual type.”

  “You do?” I ask, shifting uncomfortably on the couch. I really don’t want to talk about Daddy’s idiot exes. Miffy was the absolute worst. She didn’t even hide her greed for Daddy’s money, and she was two years younger than me.

  “So, your father says you sing?”

  Roxie is only being friendly, but I take a big sip of Coke and nod my head, hoping that it will end there.

  “You know, my son sings, and he could really use another female singer for his band.”

  I plaster a smile on my face, and shake my head. I hate favors from my father, and I hate them even more when they come from strangers. I don’t want Roxie to ruin the fact that I like her.

  “Well, maybe if you just let me tell you a little about him,” she begins, but I cut her off.

  “Thanks, Roxie. I really appreciate it, but I’m trying to make it on my own. Everyone is struggling in LA, so I doubt your son could help me that much anyway.”

  My dad guffaws in the corner, and I shoot him a dirty look. I don’t know what is so damn funny. Why the hell did I even come here tonight?

  Roxie gives me an indulging smile, and it seems like she and my dad share a private joke.

  This is bullshit.

  “Actually,” Roxie says, tilting her head, “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. I’m certain he could help you.”

  I jump up, and slam my Coke glass down. I know I’m being dramatic and Roxie is only trying to help, but after the day I’ve had, I’m not interested.

  “Annabelle,” my dad says sternly, and I think he’s about to reprimand me. “Roxie is only telling you this because her son is coming to dinner too. I actually haven’t met him yet.”

  Oh, great. I’m supposed to spend the night with another wannabe singer?

  No, thank you.

  “Roxie, it was great to meet you. I mean that,” I say, smiling at her, “but I don’t think I’m up for dinner tonight. Please forgive me. I would love to see you again, though.”

  Roxie looks put out and she stands up too.

  “Please stay,” she says, looking contrite.

  “I’m sorry.”

  I walk over and give Daddy a quick kiss on the cheek. He looks just as surprised as Roxie at my sudden departure.

  “Annabelle,” he pleads.

  But I turn on my heel and I brush my perfectly styled hair out of my face, and flee from the room. I'm in such a hurry that I don’t even notice the figure walking into the room and I smack into it with full force.

  “Ow! What the hell!” I cry, bouncing back.

  I hear a deep, throaty laugh, and my mind processes the source of the sound.

  I stumble back and glare at the offending person.

  Holy shit.

  Not only am I standing before an absolute sex god...I am looking at none other than the Dom Dresden.

  Dom Fucking Dresden.

  “Excuse me,” he purrs in his throaty voice, and I drink him in like I’m dying of thirst.

  My body instantly responds to this beautiful man, and my insides clench in a delicious and tantalizing way.

  He’s taller than me by a whole foot, and he has that same wild black hair that I’ve seen on the cover of countless magazines. It’s a little longer than I’ve seen pictures of, and it hangs in his face a bit. I have the sudden urge to reach out and brush it from his eyes.

  His eyes.

  They smolder at me, greener in person than in pictures, and they are hazy yet sharp as he takes me in. He has a few days of stubble on his face, but it doesn’t distract from his kissable lips. I have to force myself to get a grip.

  Because not only is Dom Dresden hotter than fucking hot, but he is just my type.

  My old type.

  And all of a sudden, I can’t catch my breath.

  “Dominic!” Roxie exclaims happily, and I step aside, as if in a dream, as I watch Dom hug his mother.

  Who happens to be my father’s fiancé.

  Holy flying fuck.

  “Hey Mom,” he says.

  As he gives Roxie a tight hug I notice his eyes are still on me, and I try to remember what I’m wearing.

  Oh, right, I’ve dressed up today, thank God.

  Dom is dressed just how I imagined he would be, in tight black jeans, black boots, and a white t-shirt with a black scarf. Not a girly hipster black scarf, but a Steven Tyler type of scarf. It works for him.

  I feel my heart pounding against my rib cage and I know I need to get out of here fast. Not only so I can process this bizarre connection, but before I do anything stupid.

  Not that Dom Dresden would ever in a million years be interested in me, but the last thing I need to do right now is make even more of a fool of myself.

  “Dominic, this is Annabelle, Cliff’s daughter.”

  I smile stupidly, and a slow, sexy grin spreads across Dom’s face as he rakes his hand through his hair.

  “I was just going,” I manage to say, and I give him a lame wave as I hurry out of the room. In my haste, I miss the step leading up into the hallway, and I cry out in surprise before I fall flat on my face.

  Chapter Three

  Dom

  I hurry over to Cliff’s daughter after she trips and sprawls spectacularly across the shiny hardwood floor. But not before I get a good look at her ass and creamy thighs as she goes flying. One thing is for sure – this girl has a killer bod.

  My mom and Cliff hurry over, and I grasp the girl by her arms and help pull her up. She’s hot.

  It’s not just her body, but her face is gorgeous, too. She’s not a brown paper bag kinda girl. That’s what we call the groupies with hot bodies, but ugly faces. They’re good to fuck though...if you put a brown paper bag over their head.

  This girl is dressed all fancy, and her hair is all shiny, and I can’t help but take a whiff of her.

  She smells good, too.

  Like lemons and mint.

  I can’t help myself as I look at her ample tits, and I notice her scowl when she catches my eyes. I grin impishly and shrug. If she doesn’t want her tits ogled, then she shouldn’t put those puppies on display.

  “Are you okay?” I a
sk.

  “I’m fine, thanks,” she says tightly. She yanks her arm from my grasp, and straightens her dress.

  Oh. She’s an uptight princess.

  Her skin is flushed, and I can tell she’s embarrassed. Shit, I’d be embarrassed too if I took a fall like that. I don’t know where the hell the fire was. She bumped into me as I was coming in, and then as soon as she met me, she was rushing out again.

  “Annabelle,” Cliff starts, and I looked over. I hadn’t even gotten a good look at my mom’s new man.

  I study him shrewdly. He’s classier than what I had expected. Of course, I've heard of Winterford’s Jewels before, but I wasn’t sure what to expect of the owner, and my mother’s new fiancé.

  He better treat my mom better than those other fuckers she dated. I don’t give a shit, I’ll punch Mr. Fancy Jewelry in his fucking face too if he hurts her like the last guy.

  I’m guessing Mom hasn’t shared her shitty past with Cliff, and that’s just as well. No need telling her new man that she has had some lousy taste in men. I think darkly of my father, and I know my mom’s had bad taste in men for a long ass time, it's nothing new.

  The girl, Annabelle, gives her father a strange look, but she goes over and sits down on a couch by the window. I see her eyeing me from the corner, and I watch as she crosses her legs. I can’t help but think of what lays between those two pretty little legs of hers. I bet I could have her moaning in seconds.

  I lick my lips just thinking about her, but then my mom pulls me back in.

  “Thank you, Dominic, that was so nice of you. Annabelle are you alright?”

  “I’m fine, I’m fine,” she mumbles, sipping a Coke.

  My mom looks slightly ruffled, but she smiles at me, and guides me over to meet Cliff.

  “Cliff, this is Dominic,” she says proudly.

  “So nice to meet you,” Cliff grins, shaking my hand. “I’ve heard lots about you.” He winks, and I wonder what the hell my mother could have said.

  Oh well, it’s probably better than the shit he might read in a magazine. Lately my band, Diesel, has been all over the news thanks to our new record, which went straight to number one in less than one week.