A Week to Be Wicked, page 1
A WEEK TO BE WICKED
A FORBIDDEN ROMANCE
S.E. LAW
S.C. ADAMS
Copyright © 2023 by S.E. Law and S.C. Adams
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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CONTENTS
About This Book
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Epilogue
Sneak Peek: Claiming His Babysitter
Sneak Peek: Paying My Dad’s Debt
About S.E. Law
About S.C. Adams
ABOUT THIS BOOK
He wants me to do what? I may be a beauty pageant winner, but that doesn’t mean that I’m sharing my body with the devilish billionaire.
Rocky: What people don’t realize is that beauty contests are expensive. All the crowd sees are the glittering crowns, the shiny smiles, and the shimmery gowns. But what they don’t realize is that all that costs a fortune, and now, I have almost nothing in my bank account. How will I pay rent?
Fortunately, a handsome billionaire says he’ll pick up my expenses … for a sexy price, of course.
Logan Michaelson says he’ll pay for everything, so long as I attend a party on exclusive private island with him for a week. I can read between the lines. This isn’t a party – this is an ORGY.
Is Logan insane?!?!? In fact, has EVERYONE gone insane?
But I need the money …
And Logan’s H-O-T too. The billionaire’s got chiseled abs, powerful thighs, and a thick tool made of pure steel. The truth is that the party doesn’t seem so bad now. In fact, it sounds absolutely *delicious.*
But what happens when our week to be wicked is over? Will the billionaire still want me although our deal is done?
Logan: I’ve been invited to a week-long no-holds-barred orgy sponsored by a secretive group called the Circle. I wasn’t going to bring a date, but then the new Miss Millbrook lands in my lap, destitute and desperate. It’s perfect because this party is the perfect place to indulge in hedonism with a sassy curvy girl. But now, Rocky wants more … and she’s getting it, if I have my way.
This is a follow-up to Backdoor of Sin, where we meet Rocky, a small-time pageant winner. She may be a beauty queen, but that doesn’t mean she’s innocent or naïve! No, our sassy heroine gives her man a run for his money by showing him just what an adventurous girl can do with a glittery crown on her head, and soon Logan’s begging for more! Turn up the A/C because this story will have you panting. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and always a HEA for my readers.
CHAPTER 1
Rocky
I sit back on my couch, a steaming mug of coffee in hand as my buddy Elodie lounges on a nearby recliner.
“Ouch, that’s still too hot,” I grimace after a tiny sip, placing the joe down on the mahogany coffee table. “Why do I always do that?”
Elodie laughs. “Because you have no patience, girl! And because you insist on black coffee. If you were more like me, you’d be able to drink right away because all the cream cools it down.”
I scrunch my face. “Yeah, but you know I’m trying to lose weight, so cream and sugar aren’t going to do it for me. I mean, that stuff is half fat, right? At least the cream part.”
Elodie fixes me with a look.
“Cream is all fat, Rocky, and that’s what makes it amazing. Besides, I have no idea why you’re even talking like this! Why do you need to lose weight? You’re gorgeous, and you just won the Miss Millbrook pageant. If anything, this is the time to kick back and let our hair down. We should eat and drink anything we want.”
I sigh.
“If only it were so simple,” is my grumble. “I was starving for what felt like forever, so I feel like if I ate a bag of Cheetos right now, I might throw up.”
Elodie merely giggles.
“Okay, I’ll eat ‘em then. Where are said Cheetos?” she asks, looking around my apartment. “In the cupboard? In your bedroom?”
I giggle.
“You’re right, I was snacking last night in bed, so it’s in my bedroom. In my nightstand drawer in fact.”
My friend immediately leaps up and makes a bee-line for the bedroom before returning with a huge bag of Cheetos in hand. In fact, her fingers and chin are already dusted with the neon orange powder, and as I watch, she pops another tidbit into her mouth before biting down with a loud, satisfying crunch.
“Yum,” Elodie moans rhapsodically before sitting back down on the couch and swinging her feet up. “Damn, this is so good, and I definitely need this today. I’m still exhausted from last week.”
I sigh.
“Me, too,” I say, kicking my feet up on the coffee table as well. “I wish pageants weren’t so tiring, and dang, but the Miss Millbrook team worked us hard.”
Elodie winks playfully.
“Yeah, but at least you won. All I got was Miss Photogenic, which basically means they think I looked better in photos than I do in real-life. Is that a plus? I mean, when you really think about it, isn’t that kind of bad?”
I giggle.
“No! I mean, they think you’re beautiful both ways, it’s just that you’re especially photogenic too.”
Elodie merely rolls her eyes.
“I hope so, but I doubt it. I mean, it’s kind of a consolation prize. All those Miss Photogenic, Miss Congeniality things are. They just give it to the girls who win nothing.”
I shake my head.
“That’s not true!”
But Elodie nods wisely, popping another Cheetoh into her mouth.
“No, it’s true. The only reason why I even won anything is because my dad’s the mayor of this town. They couldn’t let Darnell Niehaus’s daughter walk away empty-handed, could they? It’d be an embarrassment!”
I use the opportunity to take another sip of my coffee because I’m not sure what to say. It’s true that my friend’s not traditionally beautiful, but she’s not ugly either. In fact, we look kind of similar, with our curly brown hair and voluptuous figures. It’s just that I smile a lot, whereas Elodie’s often making wisecracks or acting the class clown. At a beauty pageant, no less, where we’re supposed to come off as elegant, classy swans.
But I decide to stick to the positive.
“You’re lucky to have your family behind you,” I tell Elodie. “Not everyone’s so fortunate.”
She just pops another Cheetoh into her mouth.
“Tell that to my dad. He basically forced me to participate in the Miss Millbrook thing. Hell, if I had my own way I’d be listening to music in the library, or maybe checking out that new record store on Second Street. You know, the one called Academy Music?”
“I do know that one,” I muse. “It does look interesting.”
Elodie sits up with excitement.
“Yeah, I heard they have some Van Halen EPs and you know I love that stuff. Eddie himself is such a virtuoso on the guitar. But yeah, if I want the money to buy EPs, then I have to do what my dad says to keep him happy.”
I smile.
“Which means when the Mayor of Millbrook tells you to compete in a pageant, you compete,” I tease.
She sticks her tongue out at me. “You joke, but it’s true. I didn’t want anything to do with the pageant.”
I roll my eyes.
“I know, I know. Don’t worry, Els, it’s over now. The nightmare is done.”
But my friend feels petulant.
“Yeah, but it was a week of hell! I just wish my dad would let me have some freedom instead of being so focused on his “Millbrook First” agenda. Dang, I’m a grown woman, right? But I need his money, so I guess it is what it is.”
I merely smile ruefully.
“Well, at least your family has money that you can tap. Me? I have no idea how I’m going to pay next month’s rent on this place.”
My friend stares at me.
“What do you mean?”
I shrug.
“Pageants are expensive, you know? I spent pretty much every penny I had to compete in Miss Millbrook, and now I have no idea how I’m going to pay my bills. I mean, there were the entry fees which were not nothing, and then all the dresses, shoes, make-up, fake glittery jewelry, yada yada yada. You know,” I say.
Elodie stares at me. “Yes, but you have savings, right? I’m sure you can pay your rent with that for a while. Plus, aren’t you a nurse?”
I bite my lip. “I was, but I quit to prepare for the pageant. Plus, I pretty much emptied my bank account getting ready for the damn thing. It felt stupid to do it half-assed, so I went all out.”
Elodie gasps, her brown eyes wide.
“OMG! I had no idea, Rocky. But why?”
I merely shrug.
“Again, it seemed lame to half-ass things. I mean, I knew I wanted to win, so I decided to go for it and spent a ton as a result. It’s worth it though. I don’t regret it, and now I have t
Elodie giggles.
“Okay, yeah, that thing is kind of garish. Do you think you could sell it to get your hands on some quick cash?”
I guffaw.
“Elodie! You must be joking! This thing isn’t made of diamonds, it’s just paste. Besides, I signed a contract saying I wouldn’t.”
“Seriously?” she asks, looking confused. “I swear there’d be someone on eBay willing to buy the crown, just for the novelty factor.”
I roll my eyes.
“No, I can’t sell my crown. I just won it, so they’d kill me if I did. But yeah, I have no idea how I’m going to come up with next month’s rent at this point.”
Elodie’s quiet for a moment before looking up.
“Do you need a loan?”
I shake my head before she can even finish the offer. “I can’t take money from you.”
My buddy merely shrugs.
“You’d really be taking money from my dad, not me, and it’s not like he’d notice. He’s got boatloads of it because you know the whole mayoral thing is just a hobby for Darnell. My family’s actually in real estate, remember?”
I nod because it’s true. It seems the Niehauses own half of Millbrook sometimes. But the thing is that I really don’t want to take charity from my friend. I just won a fucking beauty pageant for crying out loud! Why do I have to act like a pauper now?
I shake my head again. “No, it’s okay. I’ll figure something out. You don’t have to worry about me.”
Elodie shoots me a skeptical look. “Are you sure?”
I laugh.
“Yeah, totally! I’m serious, I’ll be fine. Besides, I should be able to monetize my win somehow, right?”
Elodie shoots me another skeptical look.
“But how?”
I merely pat her knee soothingly.
“That’s for me to know, and you to find out.” With that, we start chatting about other things, even if inside, I’m wondering how I’m going to pull myself out of this conundrum. After all, I need to get my hands on some cold hard cash fast, but the question is from where? Time is running out, and there don’t appear to be many options at the moment.
CHAPTER 2
Rocky
I spin around before the mirror, looking critically at my reflection. Perfect. My brown hair falls in tousled waves down my back, and my dress is dark blue with a modest neckline. The hem comes down to my knees, and I’ve got matching blue pumps that elongate my legs. Then, I grab my clutch, as well as a plain canvas bag which contains a glittery mini-tiara. This thing is key because during public events, people like to see me with a crown on, and I obviously can’t parade about wearing the foot-long on my mantelpiece.
After all, visiting sponsors, politicians, community organizations, and schools is part of my job as the newest Miss Millbrook. Every Miss Millbrook has to make the rounds after her win, and it’s tiring, but also part of the job. In fact, I understand that pageants at the national level require even more from their girls. Those women are locked up in an apartment in NYC, and then forced to attend community events for an entire year. That would be sheer hell, if you ask me.
But today, there’s only one meet-and-greet on my agenda, albeit a significant one. The pageant organizers are taking me to pay our respects to Logan Michaelson, one of the biggest sponsors of the Miss Millbrook event. Evidently, he’s a billionaire property developer who also sponsors the Millbrook Hospital, as well as the Millbrook Museum, the Annual County Fair, and of course, said pageant. I’m expecting the usual. A handshake, a smile, and some light conversation in the billionaire’s office. We’re there to show how grateful we are, and to pay obeisance to a rich man because such is how the world works.
Quickly, I hop into an Uber, grimacing at the cost. I can’t afford the ride, but at the same time, it feels unseemly for Miss Millbrook to take the bus. Optics, and all that.
As the vehicle weaves through downtown Millbrook, I muse again on my troubles. What am I going to do for money? Just this morning, I bumped into the resident manager at my building, who gave me a suspicious look. Mrs. Lindemulder can sense when something is up, and I swear, she could smell my poverty from a mile away.
But I can’t do anything about that right now. At the moment, I have to focus on getting my head on straight so that I can smile and say all the right things once I’m in front of Logan Michaelson. The pageant organizers are expecting it, and I don’t want to fall down on my duties in the first week after winning my crown.
A few minutes later, I hop out of the Uber. We’re stopped in front of a mid-size corporate building just off the main strip of downtown Millbrook, and I push through the glass doors to find Ursula waiting for me. She’s a middle-aged woman with a fashionable, but very severe, look to her. Her brown hair is always scraped back into a too-tight bun, and she’s got red lipstick on that only emphasizes the hollowness of her cheeks. Rumor is that Ursula won the Miss Millbrook title some twenty years ago, although I can hardly believe it seeing that she’s not exactly a ray of light. Now, however, Ursula works on the business side of things and she’s my chaperone for this meeting with Mr. Michaelson.
She checks her watch. “You’re right on time, which means you’re late.”
I look at the clock on the wall in confusion.
“I guess a little. There was traffic.”
Ursula clicks her tongue and rolls her eyes. “A true Miss Millbrook would have accounted for any hold-ups. From now on, be at least ten minutes early to every event, understood?”
I nod, biting my lip. It’ll do no good to argue, so I merely nod and put my head down as if chastened.
“Come on, let’s go,” Ursula says in an exasperated voice before clacking to the elevator doors in her high heels. “Chop chop.”
I step forward obediently, feeling about two inches tall. Ursula always does this. She’s so intimidating and exudes major boss-lady vibes. Seriously, was the woman born this way? But then the elevator doors open and we exit into a lavish reception area with cream furniture, a thick pile rug, and a wonderful view of the downtown area. The young woman working the front desk smiles at us.
“You must be Roberta Cross, the new Miss Millbrook,” she greets, her eyes lighting up as she takes in my perfectly done hair and make-up. “And you must be Miss Keen,” she burbles at Ursula. “Let me just inform Mr. Michaelson that you’re here.”
The woman presses a button on her phone, speaks softly, and then hangs up with another smile.
“This way, please.”
We’re led down a hall, and then stop before a set of imposing double doors. The wood is a beautiful shade of mahogany, and the receptionist knocks before swinging the door open.
“Here you go,” she says. “Mr. Michaelson, Miss Millbrook is here, along with her companion, Ursula Keen. Welcome, ladies.”
Then the young woman nods and steps away as we enter the office. I stop in my tracks because the space is huge and lavish. There are floor-to-ceiling windows against one entire wall, framing a perfect view of the downtown neighborhood. A seating area is cleverly positioned so that it, too, gets a great view of the city, but it’s the huge oak desk and the man who stands behind it that take my breath away. After all, I’d been envisioning an eighty-year-old wizened dude with white hair and a cane. Realistically, that’s how most billionaires look. But instead, Logan Michaelson is absolutely gorgeous.
The man is tall and enormous. Wide shoulders seem to stretch the limitations of his blue blazer, and a white shirt shows off his bronzed tan. Not only that, but he has deep black hair swept off a high forehead and insanely blue eyes that are currently twinkling at me.
“Miss Cross, Miss Keen, welcome to the Michaelson Corporation,” he intones. “Congratulations on winning the Miss Millbrook title. Um, can I get you a napkin?”
