Sugar, We're Going Down: A Bad Boy Rockstar Romance (Love Me, I'm Famous Book 2) Read online

  Sugar, We’re Going Down

  Love Me, I’m Famous Book 2

  M. H. Soars

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Author’s Note

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by M. H. Soars

  Prologue

  London - October 2015

  OLIVER

  It’s too early to be dealing with this shit. My head is about to split in two, I didn’t have time to eat or even grab a cup of coffee, and to make my morning even more hellish, I’m horny as fuck. The image of a siren with green and blue hair, and a mouth as sinful and perverse as the goddess Venus comes into my mind. My cock strains against my jeans and I grip the steering wheel hard, turning my knuckles white. The moment I saw her singing on that stage, I felt the pull, an immediate attraction that had me craving her body like a junkie craves his next fix.

  A car cuts me off and I hit the brakes, narrowly missing the moron. I slam my fist against the horn and don’t let it up until my annoyance subsides. I switch lanes and when I pass him, I make sure to lower my window and flip the driver off. Then I stomp on the gas pedal.

  I love my car. It’s an Aston Martin Vanquish, the greatest fucking car in history, and it was the first thing I bought with my own money. I’d never had a problem spending my parents fortune before, but it wasn’t until I started making my own that I realized how good it felt to not depend on them anymore, to finally be able to cut the strings. No more forced monthly dinners, no more pretending I give a shit about their high-society friends and appearances.

  As I approach Sebastian’s place, I grapple with my brain for an idea to help him out of the messed up situation he’s in. If the paparazzi see me, they will never leave. More likely, they will call their friends and we’ll have a mob gather in front of his apartment. I know I’m the reason they’re stalking my friend, I don’t want to make matters worse.

  I park on the street parallel to Sebastian’s, in front of the town house that is directly behind his place. If I’m not mistaken, I believe there’s a small garden at the back. If Liv can jump off his kitchen balcony into that yard, she’ll be home free. I’m aware I’m betting on a lot of ‘ifs’ right now. I stare at the house in front of me, trying to guess what kind of people live in there.

  A cab stops ahead, catching my attention. I squint behind my sunglasses, trying to peer inside the black car, but with the tinted windows it’s impossible. A minute later, the door opens, and I see a mane of multicolored hair emerge. I suck in my breath. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

  Her hair is even more luscious in the daylight and it falls in waves down her back. It’s the most gorgeous thing I have ever seen and my fingers itch to touch it, to ascertain that those locks are as soft as they look. I let my gaze travel down her body and I commit every single detail to memory. She’s wearing dark jeans so tight, they don’t leave much to my imagination. She has on some kind of flouncy, asymmetric black top that peeks out of her cropped leather jacket. But what seals my fate is the pair of over the knee high-heeled boots on her feet. I forget the humiliation of last night. I must have her. I won’t quit until she’s under me, writhing in pleasure.

  She doesn’t glance at my car, even though she’s now standing right in front of it. Her gaze is fixated on the house I had been looking at myself a minute ago. She hesitates for a brief moment before she walks towards the front door. I manage to take my mind out of the gutter in time to realize what she’s about to do. Apparently, she’s here to save her friend, and somehow, came up with the same plan I did. A weird feeling unfurls in the pit of my stomach, something foreign that I quickly dismiss as hunger pains.

  I exit the vehicle and make my presence known. She hears the noise and turns to me, narrowing her eyes. I remove my sunglasses and recognition finally hits her expression.

  “You! What are you doing here?”

  Fuck me! Her voice is like soft, rich, velvet. I didn’t get to appreciate it properly last night while she was screaming at me. Smooth and raspy, it’s even more lethal than her mouth.

  Her tone is indignant which means she’s still mad at me for my bold proposition at the karaoke bar. I grin at her as I take a few steps closer. Her porcelain skin is flawless without any make-up. Instincts are telling me to keep walking until our chests touch and I can suck her plump lips into my mouth. But I can’t indulge in my crazy fantasies right now. My impulsiveness is what created this situation.

  “I’m here to help your friend out,” I say.

  SAYLOR

  I cross my arms and stare at the stupid man in front of me, unable to decide if he’s serious or not. The few times I’d caught him on television giving an interview, I’d pegged him to be a snobby jackass. Last night just served to prove me right.

  His striking, almost surreal, blue eyes are glued to my face, searching for something I can’t fathom. It’s almost as if he’s trying to invade my mind, peer into my thoughts. His blond hair is messy, like he’s just run his fingers through it without a thought. I don’t want to concede, I don’t want to acknowledge it, but he is a sexy motherfucker. Tall and wiry, with a face carved to be on the cover of a magazine, and that arrogant mouth, he has serious potential to be my next huge mistake.

  “I think you’ve done enough damage,” I say.

  He moves closer, almost invading my space, but I don’t step back, I don’t want to show that his nearness bothers me. He’ll never know how he’s affecting me right now. I refuse to drop my stare from his electric eyes, tilting my head is the only way. He’s so damn tall.

  “You know, this is as much your fault as it’s mine. If you had been more accommodating…”

  My jaw drops, a reflex on my part when I hear complete and utter bullshit. Quickly, I realize Oliver likes to play games, mess with people’s heads. What he doesn’t know is that he’s met his match. I take a step forward, a movement he wasn’t counting on, if the flexing of his jaw is any indication.

  “You’re saying that if I had dropped down onto my knees and taken your dick into my mouth right then and there, no one would have recognized you?”

  I’m close enough that I can see his pupils dilate and hear his sharp intake of breath. But he calls my bluff and leans down, until his nose almost touches mine, until his lips are close enough that I can smell his minty toothpaste. “I can’t undo the past, but the picture you just painted sounds a lot like an offering.”

  My heart is flittering like there’s a hummingbird trapped in my chest. But I won’t back down, I won’t step away. I’ve gone through more shit in my life than Oliver can possibly imagine. This stand-off is nothing.

  I smile. “Do you wanna hear a secret? I probably would have
done more than suck you into oblivion last night if you hadn’t been so crass about it. I guess you’ll never know what it fee—”

  Oliver crashes his lips against mine, cutting off my reply. His hand cups the back of my head, his fingers curl around my hair, keeping me in place as he devours my mouth. And I let him. Not only do I let him, but I join the feast because this is the best fucking kiss ever.

  One

  SAYLOR - JUNE 2016

  I swallow the Texas sized lump in my throat as I stare at the empty living room. I’ve been trying to remain strong, to pretend that I’m unaffected by change—that’s the persona I portray to the world after all, that I’m the I-don’t-give-a-fuck kind of gal. But the finality of this moment—the stacked up boxes with my name on them, the slight discoloration on the floor that indicates where our furniture has been—hits me like a bazooka, obliterating the carefully placed wall I keep tight around myself. It’s truly over. No more midnight snacks with Mandy as we binge watch nineties TV shows on Netflix, no more running lines with Kennedy until I memorize the script myself, no more going out with Emma and being her wing girl.

  I feel the burning in my nose and the moisture in my eyes, and realize I’m a moment away from crying like a baby. But a presence behind me forces me to keep the mope fest in check. Emma places an arm around my shoulder and squeezes my arm.

  “I can’t believe this moment has arrived,” she says.

  “Yeah, me neither.”

  To my right, Kennedy and Mandy emerge from my former room. Mandy’s face is already streaked with tears and Kennedy’s eyes are red.

  “Oh, great. Mandy is going to make everybody cry,” Emma says in a choked up voice.

  “Why shouldn’t I cry? I’ve spent the best three years of my life in this apartment,” she says defensively.

  I can’t speak for Emma or Kennedy, but I share Mandy’s sentiments. Living with these girls helped soothe the constant ache and darkness in my heart. They might not have been the best years of my life—I don’t think I will ever be able to have those anymore—but they were definitely better than my senior year in high school.

  “Oh stop with the sniveling. It’s not like we shared the same roof in the past six months.” Emma drops her arm from my shoulder and walks toward the window, turning her back to us.

  Her natural honey colored hair has new highlights and it’s also shorter, the tips touching her shoulders now. She was always a stylish girl, worldly, but now she has an air of maturity about her.

  In the past six months, there have been many changes in our lives. Emma left for an internship in Brussels last January, Kennedy was busy shooting her indie movie and consequently was never around. Liv moved in with Sebastian, and I got wrapped up with Wreck of the Day practices.

  “True, but now it’s finally over over.” I detect the wistfulness in Kennedy’s reply.

  “Oh shush. You’re a movie star now. Soon you won’t even remember us mere mortals.” Emma turns around with a small smile on her lips.

  The front door opens and in comes Liv, out of breath and with disheveled hair. There’s a healthy glow on her cheeks and her clothes are wrinkled. Sebastian must have taken her to Oh- Town before she left their place.

  “Someone has been busy.” Emma wiggles her eyebrows up and down and walks back to where I stand.

  Embarrassment takes over Liv’s face as she finger-combs her hair in a vain attempt to disguise the obvious.

  “Yeah, well, Sebastian wanted help with, uh, the shower.”

  “Is that what you kids are calling it these days?” I smirk at her and she glowers at me.

  Emma covers her ears with her hands. “La-la-la, I don’t wanna hear about your sexscapades, Liv. Not when I’m not getting any.”

  Kennedy snorts and crosses her arms. “If Donna Juanita there is going through a dry spell, the rest of us are doomed.”

  “You can’t complain. You get to kiss Skylar Fisher,” Mandy says and a star-struck gleam flashes in her eyes.

  Her comment makes Kennedy dip her chin to stare at the floor. “Got to kiss him. The movie wrapped up last week. Besides, it didn’t count. Kissing him with a bunch of lights on my face in front of dozens of people was hardly something to get excited about. It was technical and tiresome.”

  Then how come she can’t even look us in the eye every time Skylar is mentioned? When Kennedy began shooting the movie, we couldn’t get her to shut up about him, and now, we’re lucky if we can get a couple of coherent words strung together.

  “Are you packed?” Liv asks.

  My eyes sweep the room. “Pretty much.”

  “It was nice of Remi to offer to rent you a room until you can get your own place,” Emma says.

  “Yes, it really was.”

  Mandy gets a pinched look on her face and I try to think of another subject to change to. She wanted me to stay with her and her grandmother, but for several reasons, I can’t. First, being next door to my mother’s house creates a mega problem. I can’t be near that place. It brings back too many awful memories. Second, it would put me in constant contact with Connor, Mandy’s older brother. There’s a history there we don’t need to revisit.

  “When are you and Sebastian picking a date for the wedding?” I ask Liv.

  A flash of excitement shines in her eyes. “Soon.”

  Kennedy’s Star Wars ringtone fills the room and it stops me from asking Liv more questions.

  “It’s my agent.” She surprises all of us when she sends the call to voicemail.

  “What’s up with that?” Emma asks.

  “He wants to discuss Saint’s promo tour schedule. It can wait.”

  “Well, we better get these boxes in the van. I can’t be late for practice.” And I don’t think I can last much longer without crying.

  “Okay, before we go, we need one last picture of all of us in the apartment,” Emma says.

  We move closer together for a group selfie and I don’t know about anyone else, but the bright smile on my face couldn’t be more fake.

  After we hug and kiss, and all of my stuff is loaded into the van I rented, I begin the drive to Remi’s house with a heavy heart. Not that I don’t appreciate Remi helping me out, but I honestly thought that I would be in a much better place in my life by now. My mood sours even more when my phone flashes my mother’s name, indicating a new text from her. She doesn’t call me anymore because she knows I won’t answer.

  When I stop at a traffic light, I read the message. She wants me to come by the house. There’s a letter there for me. Fucking great. I debate blowing it off, but then she sends me another text telling me she won’t be home. Okay, then. I can deal with the house and the memories if she’s not around. It’s the combination of her guilt ridden stare and the memories that I can’t take.

  We used to be close before all the shit that happened by the end of my junior year. Now, she can barely stand to look me in the eye. When your boyfriend tries to rape your teenage daughter, it’s impossible not to feel responsible. I could tell her the truth, but it wouldn’t change the outcome, it wouldn’t change the fact that the man rotting in hell was scum. People ask me if I feel remorse for what I’ve done and my answer is always the same. Fuck no. He deserved to die.

  I stop in front of our cream colored house and stay in the van for a few minutes, my hands gripping the steering wheel tight as I stare straight ahead, seeing nothing. My heart rate has increased and I fucking hate how after all these years, this place still affects me this way. Come on Saylor. It’s just a house.

  Then the insta headache hits and my vision blurs. It’s so painful that I almost cry out. I shut my eyes and place the heel of my hand against my forehead, breathing in and out until the pain subsides. This is the third time this month that it’s happened and I’m beginning to worry. I kind of forget where I am for a second, until my vision returns to normal and I recognize the street.

  Taking a deep breath, I get out of the vehicle and march to the front door. The sooner I collec
t the stupid letter, the sooner I will be gone. I’m hit by the familiar smell of Mom’s perfume when I cross the threshold. I close my eyes and I can almost picture her running around in a frenzy, trying to get ready to go to her shift at the hospital. She couldn’t be on time to save her life.

  I walk to the kitchen where Mom said she left the letter for me. I find the thick manila envelope on the old, faded blue kitchen table. A treasure found in a flea market, it was the last D.I.Y. project Mom and I worked on together. The blue paint is chipped in several places, and now it’s just a sad reminder of what our lives used to be.

  The envelope has the logo of a law firm and I instinctively know what this is about. This is the final piece on the deal Mom and I made with the devil, a.k.a., my biological father.

  If I ever wrote the story of my life down, one could mistake it for a soap opera script. My conception was such a cliché. Mom had an affair with a married man, never told him she got knocked up. Years later, when my life turned to shit, Daddy dearest found out about it. My name was never released to the public since I was a minor, so that makes me think that the man had always known about my existence. He sent his people to deal with ‘the situation’ as they called it. He was running for State Senator and couldn’t have such a dark secret ruin his chance. Using his powerful connections, he made sure my case was dealt with quickly, but in return, I would relinquish all my rights to his fortune and name.

  I shove the envelope in my hobo bag and get out of there. I’m surprised it took him this long to send the papers I need to sign. It doesn’t matter. I might not make loads of money waitressing or playing with the band, but I have zero interest in anything that has to do with him. He can shove his money and good name where the sun doesn’t shine.

  Two

  OLIVER

  With my arms crossed behind my head, I lie down in bed and enjoy the show. There are very few things that get me as turned on as watching two hot birds make out. And when they both have their hands on my cock as they suck each other’s faces, even better. Tiffany and Amber, or was it Keira and Jennifer? Fuck, I can’t remember their names, only that they are wannabe models I met at an upscale club in town. Let’s go with Tiffany and Amber, a brunette and a blonde who were only too eager to volunteer for a threesome.