Tangled Trust (The Lust List: Kaidan Stone #2)

Copyright © 2014 by Nova Raines

Editing by Erynn Newman

All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner without the written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

NoMi Press

www.RomanceByNoMi.com

Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

Tangled Trust (
The Lust List
: Kaidan Stone)/ Nova Raines—1st ed.

The Lust List
Series

by Nova Raines and Mira Bailee

The Lust List
: Kaidan Stone by Nova Raines

One Condition (The Lust List: Kaidan Stone #1)

Tangled Trust (The Lust List: Kaidan Stone #2)

Stolen Desire (The Lust List: Kaidan Stone #3)

Scandal Exposed (The Lust List: Kaidan Stone #4)

The Lust List
: Devon Stone by Mira Bailee

First Taste (The Lust List: Devon Stone #1)

Second Chances (The Lust List: Devon Stone #2)

Third Degree (The Lust List Devon Stone #3)

Four-Letter Words (The Lust List: Devon Stone #4)

Sign up for
The Lust List A-List
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RomanceByNomi.com
.

For Mira.

I’m happy we created the
Lust List
world together! It’s been so much fun, and I’m looking forward to the hours and hours of
ScandalLust
conversations still ahead .

Palm trees and perfect weather. Glitz and glam. Wealth and fame. Red carpets, A-List parties, gorgeous people.

But what you see is nothing but smoke and mirrors. Los Angeles is a beautiful lie.

Here’s the truth: LA’s dirty just beneath the surface. And the people who are desperate to be here—the people the tabloids chase? They’re broken, all of them—insecure wannabe stars craving validation. Who else would want this life?

I’m heading down the freeway to my lawyer’s office, and the salt-spray air whipping through my car tosses my blond hair, tangling it. I’d love to be able to roll up my driver’s side window, but surprise, surprise, it’s broken—just like everything else in this town. The Mexican gangsters who smashed it out a week and a half ago want the money my dead, druggy rock star dad owed them. Too bad I don’t have it.

My stomach twists as I check my rear view mirror again to see if the black SUV is still trailing me. It fell into line behind me the second I left my penthouse, and it’s been following me through traffic ever since.

I finally catch sight of it, three cars back, and my damp hands tighten around the steering wheel. Last time, these guys basically kidnapped me. What’ll they do next? My payment is beyond late. I need to lose them before I get to the parking garage.

Heart in my throat, I speed up, weaving through the tight traffic, cutting people off. Angry honks fill the air, and pissed off drivers throw me the middle finger. I ignore them and drive faster. I dart into the left lane and suck in a breath as I nearly clip the front end of a Jaguar. The Jag slows, and I make it. The SUV weaves through traffic to catch up, but it’s falling behind.

When I get ten cars between us and lose sight of them altogether, I finally begin to breathe easier.

That is, until the sirens go off.

There’s a cop on a motorcycle behind me, lights flashing.

“Fuuuuck.” I pull over to the side of the highway, my eyes burning. So much for losing my gangster friends. Now I’ve got them
and
a cop on my ass.

The cop jumps off his bike and walks up to my car wearing dark aviators. He raises his brows when he sees me. Does he recognize me? Maybe I can use that.

“Good morning, officer,” I say in my sweetest voice. I try to look shocked, like I have no idea why he pulled me over.

“License and registration.”

I hand him my info and sink down in my seat, shoulders slumped, as he goes back to his bike. I dart a glance at my rear view mirror, but the SUV is gone. My chest lightens. The thugs said they had cop friends, but maybe they were full of shit. Maybe this cop scared them off.

I adjust my mirror to look at myself and wipe extra eye makeup from beneath my green eyes. Then I pull my low-cut t-shirt down to display more of my cleavage. It’s a total hooker move, but I’m desperate, and what else have I got going for me? The cop’s heading back to my car, so I fix the mirror and sit up straight.

“Officer…” I make my voice shake and widen my eyes. “What did I do?”

“You tell me.”

“Well… I may have been going a little fast.”

“Yep. Eighty-five in a sixty-five. That’s a steep fine.”

“I… I’m so sorry. I won’t do it again.”

He hands my license and registration back without responding and takes a long look at me. I can’t tell what’s going on behind those glasses, but I hope he’s thinking of letting me go.

He pulls out his notepad, and my heart sinks. He’s writing me a ticket. I can’t afford a ticket! I can’t even afford to fill up my tank when I run out of gas next time.

A smug smile appears on his stupid mouth, and he lowers his glasses to look at me. Yeah, he knows exactly who I am. I can see it in his eyes. And he’s enjoying this.

Maybe I should tell him Latino drug dealers were chasing me, and that’s why I was speeding. Tell him they’re threatening me for drug money my dad owed them.

Oh God, who would even believe it? And what if drug dealer Luis was telling the truth, and he
does
have friends in the LAPD?

The cop rips the sheet off his pad and hands it to me. “You might think you can do whatever you want in this city, Miss Wade, but I don’t care who you are.” He gestures toward a jagged piece of glass still jammed in the place where my window used to be. “And you better get that fixed.”

I glare at him, not answering, seething, even though I know I deserve the ticket. He’s obviously a newb. The LAPD absolutely bends the rules for celebrities… and other criminals.

He strides back to his motorcycle, and my hands shake as I read the ridiculous ticket he just handed me.

On top of the speeding fine, he’s added a fine for my broken window.

A lump forms in my throat, and I shove the ticket into my glove compartment so it won’t fly away. I hope my lawyer has good news. Why else would he call me in?

My phone beeps, and I glance down at it, praying it’s my brother. I called him about the thugs, but he ignored me like always. He doesn’t seem to give a shit about me.

But it’s not my brother. It’s a text from my best friend, Charlotte.

“You ready to talk about Kaidan yet?”

I toss my phone in my purse and pull back onto the road. Tears spring up in my eyes as I drive the rest of the way to my lawyer’s office, hoping the whole time I won’t see Kaidan there. I can’t handle looking at him after what he did, even if he
did
text me ten times since the party last week.

Everything’s broken in LA.

Including me.

When I drive past LA Entertainment Law to park in the garage, I see the paps are still out in full force, probably waiting for Mr.
Lust List
#1 to show up or leave the building. Hate flares up in my stomach at the thought of millions of women gawking over candid shots of Kaidan. Would they want him if they knew what a complete asshole he was?

Before I leave my car, I self-consciously smooth my hair and check my make-up. I’m wearing leggings, a tunic, and ankle boots. Sloppy, but still hot. I shouldn’t care, but… I do.
ScandalLust
speculates I’m with Kaidan, and even if that’s not true, the paparazzi think it is. If someone’s gonna sell pictures of me, I might as well look decent in them. Damn. I’m the one who needs the money. Maybe I should sell pictures of myself.

I shake my head at the thought and slap on a giant pair of sunglasses. Then I leave the garage and head down the sidewalk for the law office.

It takes the paps a few minutes to decide who I am, and they get in a few shots before I step into the lobby.

I stop to shove my glasses into my purse and glance around to be sure Kaidan isn’t hiding in a corner somewhere. My pride can’t handle seeing him face-to-face. I’m such an idiot. I regret everything about that party.

But maybe I have no one to blame but myself for what happened with him. He was a dick to me, and yet I let him lead me into that bedroom, and then… my cheeks warm at the thought of everything that happened, everything up until the moment he called me by his ex-girlfriend’s name.

I’ve spent the past week hiding out in my penthouse, reading tabloid articles on Kaidan and his past flings. He’s definitely got an unhealthy obsession with green-eyed natural blondes like Peyton and me. I will always and forever be a doppelganger.

I let out a little growl and march toward the receptionist’s desk. She’s a petite bottle-blond with ridiculous lips and huge boobs. On the East Coast, I’d peg her for a stripper. Here, she’s just another probably-aspiring-something.

“I have an appointment with James Nordstrom,” I say.

She narrows her wide blue eyes at me, like I have some secret and she wants to know what it is. Then she leads me down the hall, her stripper heels sinking into the plush runner.

My throat tightens, and I’m on edge, glancing up and down the empty hall like a nervous mouse, hoping Kaidan doesn’t come out of one of the rooms like last time.

I’m barely paying attention as the secretary opens a door and leads me into the wood-paneled office. The door shuts with a whisper behind me, and too late, I realize it’s not my lawyer sitting behind the massive, polished wood desk.

It’s Kaidan.

My breath catches, and my heart instantly speeds up.

I’m in his office, and he’s signing some paperwork. He completely ignores my presence as I stand there, paralyzed.

He’s so damn gorgeous. Perfect. Strong, angled features, broad shoulders, and ripped abs beneath that suit—I remember that.

High cheekbones, full lips, tan skin, just the right amount of stubble. I think of how that jaw lightly grazed my inner thigh, how those lips moved… elsewhere. My whole body’s on fire when he finally looks up at me.

His dark eyes meet mine, and I feel my face flush as I remember how he looked up at me from between my thighs.

“Sit down.” His eyes are intense, and he expects me to obey like last time.

The anger in my belly flickers back to life, and it’s stronger than my lust or my embarrassment. This guy thinks everyone worships him—that everyone should do what he wants.

I clutch the strap of my bag tightly. “I’m here to see my lawyer. Not you.”

“And you
will
see him, but you’re seeing me first.” He steeples his hands in front of him, and his jaw tightens. “Sit down, Hayley.”

I’m not a damn dog. I swallow and resist the urge to sit. “Thanks, but no thanks.”