Page 4 of Her Dark Angel

I know it’s wrong, but I can’t stop either. They would only guilt trip me further if I did, and that’s not something I want to deal with. Sometimes it’s easier to just pick and choose your battles, to keep your mouth shut instead of speaking up because it’s the only way to protect yourself.

I’ve learned that the hard way.

If it wasn’t for me, they wouldn’t live in the house they do or attend events with celebrities and high-profile people in Los Angeles. If it wasn’t for me, they would still be living in the shit box house they bought in the shittiest part of Hart.

And they know that. It’s why they hold the details over my head, and I have no choice but to go along with what they want. They know how to get to me, and I hate it.

“I’m taking a few days to think it over,” I say instead. I don’t have the fight in me to continue this conversation. The sooner they leave, the sooner I can crawl into bed and shut my eyes, ready to continue another crazy day and tight schedule tomorrow.

“Just agree to it,” Mom pushes, her voice tight. “It’ll be the best thing you do for your career.”

I frown as my knuckles turn white from the tight grip I have on the edge of the counter. “I’m not going to accept the deal without thinking it over, Mom. I don’t care if you think it’s the best thing for me. I need to be sure it’s the best thing for me.”

Mom gasps, her hand flying to her chest as if I had physically wounded her with my words. “That is no way to speak to me, Kinsley. Your father and I only want the best for you.”

“I’m twenty-four, not eight. I know how to look after myself and make my own decisions,” I counter, fighting to keep my voice even. I can’t show them I’m getting frustrated despite how badly I want to tell them that they’re getting on my fucking nerves. They won’t ever stop trying to dictate my life and it annoys the hell out of me. “Now, could you please leave so I can get some rest?”

Mom huffs and folds her arms over her chest. “No. We’re not leaving until we’ve gotten to the bottom of this discussion.”

I turn to Dad to see he has adopted the same stance as my mom, his arms folded firmly over his chest. He’s always been a sheep. Nothing has changed.

I grit my teeth and clench my fists at my side, my nails biting painfully into my palms. “Okay. Fine. I’ll leave then.”

I hate that I’m the one leaving my own house, but my parents are serious about staying to discuss the deal. They like to use my exhaustion to their advantage to get what they want. It’s a tactic they’ve used since I was eight, but I’m not a kid anymore.

Without saying a word, I grab my handbag, walk down the hallway to the front door, and collect my car keys, ignoring my parents calling out for me to stop. I don’t stop walking until I’m in my car and driving down the street.

I have no clue what I’m doing or where I’m going, but I know I can’t be at my house. At least not for a few hours until my parents realize I’m serious about them leaving. I could go visit my best friend Sadie, but she’s on a date tonight. The last thing she needs is for me to crash her night. And Matt is at work, running his restaurant. I can’t show up and demand he entertain me until I can return home.

Leaving me with no other choice, I pull out my Motorola MicroTAC and punch in Adam’s number I’ve mesmerized. He answers on the second ring.

“Kin! Is everything okay?”

The car crawls to a stop at a set of red lights and I sigh. I should take the red light staring directly at me as a sign to not go ahead with this, but I have no other choice. If I want to come to a decision soon, I need to get this over and done with.

“Give me Nash Beck’s address. I’m going to pay him a little visit and see if he’s worth potentially ruining my career for.”

2

KINSLEY

Of course, Nash Beck lives in the nicest part of Los Angeles. The neighborhood is nice and clean. Each house has a freshly trimmed lawn, expensive cars parked in the driveway, and not a single speck of dirt on the house's exterior.

My parents begged me to buy a house in this part of the city, hidden away in the hills, but I wanted to live in a quiet area and stay away from the public eye as much as I could. Most of the residents in my neighborhood are older people who have retired and also want a quiet lifestyle away from the craziness of Los Angeles.

It’s the perfect place for me to settle down since I don’t want a massive mansion with too many bedrooms and bathrooms; I wouldn’t know what to do with them, or have time to clean them all. I’m not about that life.

I pull up beside a large black mansion with a gate taller than the one guarding Hell. Green vines lace the exterior of the house, wrapping around each other like a DNA strand. Thick foliage lines the edge of the property, creating some semblance of privacy from the neighbors. Multiple cars are parked in the driveway and the lights are on inside. I guess Nash got bailed out of jail today. That doesn’t surprise me. He’s been arrested more times than I can count on both of my hands and each time someone from his team is right there to bail him out. At least from what I’ve seen reported in the tabloids.

I chew on my bottom lip as I stare at the front door from the comfort of my car. Am I making the right decision by coming here at this time of the night? It feels impulsive, but being around my parents makes me like that. Always has. But this feels like next-level idiocy.

Meeting Nash could wait until tomorrow, but I know when the sun rises I won’t want to do anything about it because of my crazy ass schedule. I’m rationalizing this by telling myself I need to get this over and done with now so I can make my decision quickly.

I have no choice but to go in there and meet the man. Who knows, maybe he’ll surprise me and won’t be anything like what he’s perceived in the media.

Fat chance, my subconscious tells me, but I ignore it and get out of the car. Inhaling a deep breath, I walk toward the large wrought iron gate and find it’s unlocked. Walking through it and up the driveway toward the large double oak front doors, I can’t help but feel like I’m walking into Hell. A cold shiver races down my spine. Anything could come from this visit—both good and bad—and it’s making me nervous.

I knock on the door as soon as I step onto the front porch to avoid losing my nerves. I’m walking into what feels like the lion's den, so I need to act confident. Well, as confident as I can when I’m about to meet the man I could potentially be faking dating for six months. I push my shoulders back and steel the nerves coursing through my veins.