Bad For Me (My Forbidden Rockstar) (3 page)

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 money.

“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 ask.

“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.