Chasing Love: A Billionaire Love Triangle (Dark Love Series Book 1) Read online

  Kat T. Masen

  Chasing Love

  A Second Chance Love Triangle

  The Dark Love Series Book 1

  Kat T. Masen

  Copyright 2020 Kat T. Masen

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to real events, real people, and real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, organizations or places is entirely coincidental.

  All rights are reserved. This book is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the express written permission of the author. All songs, song titles, and lyrics contained in this book are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders.

  Disclaimer: The material in this book contains graphic language and sexual content and is intended for mature audiences, ages 18 and older.

  Editing by Nicki at Swish Design & Editing

  Proofing by Kay at Swish Design & Editing

  Book design by Swish Design & Editing

  Cover design by Outlined with Love Designs

  Cover Image Copyright 2020

  First Edition 2020

  All Rights Reserved

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  He was my first love.

  Shattered me, then left without a goodbye.

  Eight years have passed, and now he’s back.

  But, I’m engaged.

  And he will do anything to make sure I’m his... again.

  I’ve fought hard to rebuild my life. So when the ever-so-perfect Julian Baker proposes marriage, I’m ready to forget the past and move on with my new love.

  In a cruel twist of fate, my past and future collide. I’m forced to face the man who destroyed my heart back in high school.

  Lex Edwards, turned billionaire tycoon, is ruthless, cunning, and will not stop until I’m his.

  A complicated love triangle was never something I imagined when Julian proposed to me. Especially not involving Lex.

  Hearts and egos are bound to be broken.

  But whose heart will capture mine when the darkness fades?

  Blurb

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Other Books by Kat T. Masen

  Connect With Me Online

  About The Author

  CHARLIE

  I wrapped my arms around myself to shelter my body from the sea breeze. The evening air was cool yet humid—the lingering smell of rain mixed with salt. A sudden flash of lightning brightened the dark sky, a beautiful sight followed by the inevitable. I placed my hands over my ears, burying my head between my legs. The crash of thunder startled me. Slowly, I raised my head and uncovered my ears, then I listened to the low rumble disappear into the night.

  I hated storms, they terrified me, but here I sat, waiting patiently as I had always done.

  This was our special place, but tonight, with the moon obscured behind the thick dark clouds, this no longer felt like our safe haven. Anxiously, I pulled out a weed that stood between the rocks and tore it apart until there was nothing left. The lightning struck once again, and the threat of thunder forced me to bury my head. I rocked back and forth as I hugged my knees. Unwillingly, my mind returned to the night my fear of storms began…

  “He’s the most beautiful man you’ll ever see. His soul will capture you but don’t be fooled, Mi Corazon. He’ll use all his powers to draw you in when there’s nothing left to do but take the one thing you’ve been holding on to.”

  It was past my bedtime, but I couldn’t sleep. A storm was rolling in, and the thunder was getting louder. I pulled the covers over me, frightened by this creature Momma spoke about. With my heart racing and my voice shaking, I dared ask the question that haunted me.

  “Who is he, Momma?”

  Momma paused, staring out of the large window. Fear passed over her classically beautiful face. I wasn’t sure why. Daddy would protect her. Daddy had a gun and said if anyone would ever hurt us, he’d hunt them down like hungry wolves.

  “The big bad wolf,” she whispered.

  The big bad wolf was scary. I didn’t understand what I’d be holding on to. I was only eight. This fairy tale was nothing like the others. Where was the happy ending? Momma told this story as if she memorized it by heart.

  “Will he come for me, Momma?”

  The thunder shook the house, and I clutched her arm as tight as I could. I was scared, the roar was so loud, and I didn’t want the big bad wolf to come for me. He scared me. I wanted to stay with Daddy, Momma, and Sissy. As the noise became louder, I buried my head under Momma’s arm, trying to shut out the horrible sound.

  “Momma, I’m scared.”

  “Sleep, Mi Corazon.”

  Humming my favorite lullaby, she stroked my hair to calm me down until I fell asleep in her arms.

  I never believed the myth about the big bad wolf, but for some reason, it stuck with me, and unfortunately, so did my fear of storms. Just poor timing, I kept telling myself. Frustrated, I looked down at my watch. You’ve got to be kidding me. He’s an hour late. Like I had nothing better to do than wait around for him. I could’ve finished my English assignment I had been putting off for days because he was more important. My grades were already slipping, and Principal Stephens could smell my fear of failure a mile away.

  Just as I was about to get up and leave, his masculine arms wrapped around me, warming my body. Placing soft kisses along my neckline, the stale smell of some alcoholic beverage lingered on his breath. My heart sank. I knew something was wrong, but I wasn’t in the mood to be sympathetic. I was sick and tired of all this sneaking around.

  “Rough night? Haven’t you heard of a cell?”


  I could see the lie coming. “Rough doesn’t even cut it. I’m sorry, my cell is acting up.”

  Distracted, he moved his hands underneath my jacket and ran them along my stomach.

  “You smell like you’ve been to a frat party,” I spat, frustrated.

  Unable to hide my annoyance any longer, I moved his hands away, but he stopped me immediately. He tightened his grip around my waist and buried his head in my hair.

  “Your hair… it’s so… I miss you…” he mumbled words that made no sense, and I grew even more irritated. I pulled away and stood up, the blood in my veins beginning to pump vigorously from anger.

  “What’s this? I know you better than you know yourself. You’re drunk for a reason.” Without hesitation, I blurted out the words that plagued my mind. “You’re going to tell me it’s over. The signs are here, you’ve been acting weird all week. Let’s see… Sammy cried so much you felt sorry for her, and you owe it to your marriage to make it work.”

  He stood up fast, unsteady on his feet. I half-expected him to laugh it off, but even in his intoxicated state, he seemed to understand what I meant. The hesitation alone was enough for me to think the worst, but I stood and waited without taking a breath. His eyes fixated on me, a trance I tried not to get pulled into, but slowly I felt drawn in, cast under his spell without any hope of climbing out.

  “Over? I can’t fucking breathe without you, Charlotte. This is torture. Us, not being able to be us in front of everybody. Don’t do this, okay? Don’t fucking make it out like it’s over.”

  He was trying to blow off steam, equally frustrated with our constant battle to hide our relationship. I got it, I did, but he was the one to blame here, not me. I was just the girl who fell in love with her best friend’s brother who happened to be married.

  The wind shifted and so did his mood. He ran his finger down my cheekbone just as he had always done, then slowly and reassuringly he placed his lips on mine.

  “Look at me, Charlotte,” he begged.

  My eyes found their way back to his, and just like they had done a million times before, the emerald green shone back at me. In their reflection, I saw only us.

  Him, me—together against the world.

  He placed my hand over his heart. “As long as this beats, it’s for you. I’ll find a way for us to be together. Don’t give up on us. We happened for a reason. The rest are obstacles we can overcome. As long as you place your trust in me, I promise never to break you. I love you… only you. I swear, it’ll be us for life, baby. Ride or die, ‘til death us do part.”

  I gave into him that night because I loved him more than life itself, but it was soon afterward that I realized what Momma tried to tell me all along.

  The big bad wolf had come for me. Taken all that was mine, then left me alone in the dark. He’d emptied me of everything good and pure, leaving me hollow and unable to love, wandering alone in the darkness like a tortured soul. I prayed that he wouldn’t come for me, but he did. His name was Alexander Edwards, and that night he filled me with promises, made me believe it was only us in this world, that we only needed each other.

  “Ride or die, ‘til death us do part.”

  And that was the last time I saw him.

  CHARLIE

  It’s day two of my mission to create balance in my life.

  I made the mistake of reading this article about living the best life possible and why our bodies need self-care. I run every second day or so, but according to this journalist, being a member of a gym motivates you to work out and increases social activity.

  Two areas I’m failing at miserably.

  Standing here in front of this machine with two handles side-by-side and a chair meant for sitting, I’m dumbfounded. I assume you pull the handles together which works your arms.

  Placing my towel on the bench, I take a seat and latch onto the handles, reining them in. The handles don’t budge, making me look stupid for even trying this.

  And this is why I don’t do machines.

  Or the gym.

  Frustrated and barely breaking a sweat, I step away and walk toward the cross-trainers. This can’t be too difficult. There are five cross trainers, and three of them are taken. A young guy is going hard, sweating profusely with no towel in sight to wipe his dripping forehead. A girl, attractive with cute workout wear, is beside him with a cell in hand taking selfies.

  Then there’s granny beside me. Gray permed hair cut short with a white sweatband sitting on her head to hold it back. She wears an oversized sweatsuit in baby pink, made of that same material people wear when parachuting off a plane.

  Her speed is slow, yet consistent, looking easy enough for me to keep up with.

  Flinging my towel over the rail and nestling my earphones into my ears, I follow the instructions and press the button to start the machine. Okay, move feet like walking and swing arms. Easy.

  My body unwillingly moves too fast, whacking the front and forcing me to grip tight not to fall off.

  “Doll, are you all right?”

  Great, granny feels sorry for me.

  I hate the gym so much.

  “Um, yeah. Just getting my bearings.”

  “I’m Susan. I haven’t seen you around. New to the joint?”

  Moving my feet slower this time, I gain momentum and try to hold this conversation.

  “Charlie, but it’s short for Charlotte,” I tell her, coordinating my movements. “Yes, first time here. I read this article, and I’m trying to be nicer to my body, especially since I love anything carbs, donuts, you know… the food that kills you.”

  Susan smiles, nodding her head in agreement. “Doll, you look fantastic. Let me tell you a story. I’ve got eight children and fifteen grandbabies. My body has seen it all, carried a few ten pounders, too. But nothing, and I mean nothing, can prepare you for being seventy-two and chasing little ones around. That’s why I come here every morning.”

  I have to give it to Susan, she doesn’t look in her seventies, early sixties at best.

  “I also heard that gyms are great for socializing. Look, Susan, it’s not like I’m desperate to meet a guy, but you know… it’s kinda been a while, and I’m pushing thirty in a few years. I just don’t know where the time has gone. Okay, wait, I lie. I focused on my career so much and opening our small firm that I didn’t have time for anyone. Now look at me, I can’t even use a cross-trainer without almost falling off,” I ramble, oversharing way too personal information.

  Susan slows down her movements until she hits a complete stop. Stepping off the machine, she grabs her towel and water bottle. “I don’t do this all the time, but you strike me as a lady who can use some help. I have a son, Jesse Junior. He’s from out of town but never settled down with a woman. I think he’d be a good match. I could pass on your number.”

  The humiliation just doesn’t stop. Jesse Junior certainly doesn’t seem like my type. An out-of-towner means country boy on some isolated farm expecting me to raise his kids and bake pies every day.

  “You know what?” I say, keeping a smile and the conversation amicable. “If the next time you see me, I’m still single, you pass me Jesse’s number.”

  “Junior, doll, Jesse Junior,” she corrects me. “Jesse is my husband, and Lord knows he’d eat you up like a hungry wolf.” Susan waves goodbye, and walks toward the restroom, disappearing behind the red door marked Ladies.

  I manage to use the cross trainer for another twenty minutes, listening to Olivia Newton-John’s ‘Let’s Get Physical’ in hopes of inspiring my newfound hobby. All I can think of for twenty minutes is whether or not anyone will judge me if I wear spandex to the gym.

  Slowing down my pace, I hit stop and step off the machine, knees shaking and unbalanced. I wonder how many Hershey bars I just worked off. God, I need chocolate so bad.

  In an effort to forget about my sweet tooth, I decide to try another workout, casually walking past a man sitting at the machine I previously attempted to use. He’s lifting his arms,
making grunts, then I realize how stupid I look since I didn’t use the machine that way, hence my abandonment earlier.

  That’s it, I’m making the gym my bitch. I refuse to be a pawn in its sick and twisted game.

  Spotting another machine by the corner, I make my way over and get comfortable, placing my towel on the chair. This one looks easy. All I have to do is pull the lever-looking thing and work on my arms.

  I’m about five minutes in, and I am certain my limbs will need to be amputated tomorrow. Grabbing my towel, I stand, bumping into a man, accidentally resting my hands on his chest.

  “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. I just wasn’t looking,” I apologize, out of breath.

  He rests his hands on my shoulders, pushing me away but kindly and in a non-offensive way. Baring a grin, his expression is amusing rather than annoying.

  “Hey, it's cool. My fault.” He pulls one of his earbuds out, “Lost in some Bon Jovi… you know, gym music.”

  “‘Livin’ on a Prayer’?”

  He laughs, cute dimples gracing his perfectly sculpted face. Gosh, he’s gorgeous. He reminds me of someone, but I can’t figure out who.

  “‘Keep the Faith,’” he answers. “But I’ll do some sets to ‘Livin’ on a Prayer’ occasionally.”

  My eyes wander toward his chest, surrounded by his toned arms. His tank is white, dripping in sweat but not in the gross way that makes you scrunch your nose. No, more like the I-want-my- milkshake-to-bring-you-to-my-yard type sweat.

  He extends his hand. “I’m Julian… Julian Baker.”

  “Charlie Mason.” I shake his hand, relishing in how masculine his hands are and why they do something to me I haven’t felt in a long time.

  “So, the machine. Are you done?”

  I turn around, unwillingly, then realize my unwarranted lust over this man is pathetic since he only wants the machine.

  “Um, yeah, go for it. I’ve wiped it down and everything, so like you don’t have to worry about sweat or rashes. Wait, is a sweat rash why we’re supposed to wipe it down, or can you catch like herpes?” The words are like verbal diarrhea, and my temperature rises from sheer embarrassment. “Look, I don’t know anything about herpes, so can we forget I ever mentioned that?”