Bad Boy And Me

This book is dedicated to Zoey Raven,

For loving bad boys and taking no days off in creating memories and penning beautiful stories.

Disclaimer:

The people and events in this book exist only in the author's imagination. Any resemblance to real life bad boys, yacht parties, or secret billionaires is purely coincidental...probably. This story contains drama, danger, and swoony romance. Read at your own risk of falling in love with my imaginary friends.

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations used in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Acknowledgments

First and always, to God-for the strength, creativity, discipline, and courage to turn wild ideas into stories that live on paper.

To all the bad boys round the world, thank you for making this book a reality. This one is for y'all. You are the reason behind every late night writing session and every crazy plot twist of BAD BOY AND ME

Chapter 1: Tori Tennar

"Tori Tennar."

Her name rang through the auditorium, spoken by the dean at the microphone.

Tori stood, adjusting the black cap on her head, and walked up the steps to the stage. The graduation gown rustled against her legs as she walked across the stage.

"Congratulations, summa cum laude," the dean said as he handed her the certificate and shook her hand.

"Thank you," Tori said, forcing a small smile.

She turned toward the crowd as the photographer snapped pictures. Families were cheering loudly, waving at their kids, holding up phones and flowers. Tori's eyes searched the rows of seats.

She looked left, right, center. Her chest dropped when she realized her father wasn't there.

She kept her smile in place for the camera, but it felt weak.

The announcer listed her other awards-Best Graduating Student in Fine Arts, special honors for her portfolio, and she accepted them one by one. The applause was loud, and her course mates cheered her in the crowd.

***

Outside on the campus lawn, students clustered into groups, throwing their caps into the air and taking photos. Parents carried flowers, balloons, and gifts. Tori stood with her classmates, holding her awards as the pictures went on and on.

"Smile, Tori!" her friend Lana said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

Tori managed another smile. "Yeah."

Lana's eyes softened. "Your dad didn't come?"

Tori shook her head. "No. He couldn't make it."

"He should've been here. You're the top of the whole school. He'd be proud."

"Yeah," Tori said again, though the word caught in her throat.

When the crowd began to thin, she slipped away, pulling her phone from her bag. No texts. No calls. She opened the rideshare app and booked a car to take her back to her apartment. She was still deciding if she'd go for the after party or not.

She was staring at her screen when it rang. The number was international. Her stomach flipped. She answered quickly. "Hello?"

"Tori."

It was her father's voice, but rough and tired, nothing like how he usually sounded.

"Dad? Where are you? Why didn't you come?"

"I'm sorry, baby. I couldn't make it." His words were broken by short breaths. "Congratulations my love, daddy is super proud of you."

"What's going on? Are you okay?"

There was a rustling sound, then the video camera switched on.

Tori gasped.

Her father was in a hospital bed. Bandages wrapped his chest. His face was pale, and tubes ran from his arms. The sheets beneath him were stained faintly red.

"Dad-what happened to you?"

"I was shot," he said plainly. "In Italy."

Her heart froze. "Shot? By who? Why? What are you even doing in Italy? I thought you were in New Jersey?"

"Tori, listen to me." His tone sharpened. "You can't come home. And you can't stay in Washington. Do you hear me?"

She shook her head, gripping the phone tighter. "What are you talking about?"

"Things are not safe. For me and you. You need to leave Washington immediately. Go somewhere else. Don't use my name. Keep a low profile. Use the money in your account and stay quiet."

Her eyes burned with tears. "I don't understand. Why? Who's after you and why?"

"I can't tell you right now." He coughed, wincing. Someone in the background spoke in Italian. He turned his head toward them, then looked back at her. "There isn't time. Promise me you'll do as I say. I want you to leave tonight."

"Dad, this doesn't make any sense!" She was crying openly now. "I graduated today! You were supposed to be here. You promised me."

"I know," he said softly. "And I wanted nothing more than to be there. You're everything I'm proud of. But I need you to leave Washington tonight. Do not call my numbers or message, do not speak to anyone about me. Do not tell anyone where you're doing, just leave. Do not use Tennar for now and stay away from social media."

"Please don't talk like that."

"I may not be able to call again. If I don't-"

"Stop it. Don't say that."

"I love you, Tori."

Her throat closed. "Dad, don't-"

The call cut off.

"Dad? Dad!" She redialed immediately. The call failed. She tried again. The line was dead.

She sat down hard on the stone steps outside the auditorium. Her gown pooled around her, but she didn't care. Students walked past laughing, hugging, still celebrating. She was hunched over her phone, shaking, pressing call after call.

There was no connection. Tears ran down her face.

***

The rideshare driver said "Congratulations" when she got in, but Tori barely nodded. She stared out the window, the city passing in a blur.

Her apartment felt cold when she entered. Usually, her canvases and art supplies scattered across the space made it feel alive.

She sat on the couch, clutching her phone. She replayed his voice in her mind. The bandages. The blood. The words Don't stay in Washington. Leave tonight.

Her stomach churned. She opened her banking app. The balance was higher than she remembered. He must have transferred more money recently.

Her phone buzzed again. She grabbed it instantly, praying it was him. It was a different number, an unknown number.

She answered. "Hello?"

It was silent before the call ended.

Her skin prickled. She tossed the phone onto the couch and stood up quickly, her breathing uneven.

She went to her bedroom, pulled a box from the closet, and began packing. Jeans, t-shirts, jackets, dresses. Her passport. Her sketchbooks. Whatever she could grab quickly.

Chapter 2: Victoria Island

Tori landed in Victoria Island that night. It was a quiet private state, the kind of place that didn't feel as loud as where she was coming from. She pulled her big box along, tired but alert, and went straight to the address of a shared apartment she had been searching online since her journey.

She stopped a cab, gave the driver the address, and sat silently until they arrived. When she got there, she paid the driver and walked in with her box.

The landlady was already waiting. A small woman with a calm voice, she showed Tori around. It was a two bedroom apartment. Two girls in each room, four of them living together.

The landlady opened one of the rooms.

"This is where you'll stay. Your roommate is Ciara. That's your bed over there, stay away from hers."

Tori nodded and stepped inside. Ciara was on her bed, scrolling on her phone. She lifted her eyes once, gave Tori a look, and went back to her screen without saying a word. Her face carried attitude. Tori quietly dropped her box at the corner, choosing not to say anything.

"Incase she didn't tell you, you cannot bring a friend over, especially a man." Ciara said, she sounded not only rude but cocky.

"And I hope you don't steal," Tori snapped. "Because bitch, I will chop off your fingers."

"I hope you have something worth stealing and a really sharp knife." Ciara jumped down from the bed, glaring at Tori. "You think you can walk in here and act all posh? Sports girls?"

Tori frowned, already bored. "Take two steps back, your breath stinks." She walked past Ciara and started to settle in.

"Bitch be careful, I can be a magician." Ciara turned, licking her lips.

"What are you doing in a shared apartment then? Use that magic to make some money." Tori responded, unpacking her box.

***

Later that night, Tori sat in the parlor, her phone in her hand. She opened Instagram and watched her old classmates dancing, drinking, and posting stories from the graduation after-party. They were laughing, hugging, living it up.

They gave a shout out to her even though she wasn't there. They were genuinely happy and proud of her.

Tori sighed and turned off the volume. She opened a new private account on Instagram, uploading only faceless pictures. Then she started scrolling, looking for something, someone, anything to take her mind off the emptiness.

That was when a notification popped up. A message.

The username was Jules.

Curious, she clicked it. They started chatting right away. Jules seemed easy with his words. Within minutes, he asked her to come over. She hesitated, then agreed.

But the problem started when she tried to find a ride. She spent three hours searching on her phone, checking every app, and still nothing. It was late. She was already regretting it when Jules sent another message.

My friend will come get you.

Minutes later, Jules' friend drove down to her estate. But the gate was locked. The security guards didn't want to open it. Tori waited nervously as Jules' friend argued with the guards. Eventually, money changed their minds and the gate opened. The car drove straight to her block and stopped.

Tori stepped out, her chest heavy, and climbed in.

"Hey..."

"It's not far," the guy said from the driver's seat. "We'll soon be there."

She nodded slowly, clutching her phone. Her heart was beating too fast. She didn't know these people. She didn't even know where exactly she was going.

Her mind ran wild-what if they were kidnappers? Rapists? Organ harvesters? She couldn't even share her live location with anyone. Nobody knew where she was.

Tori shut her eyes tightly, whispered a small prayer under her breath, and leaned back in the seat.

Chapter 3: A time on the Yacht

"You made it."

The guy's voice was close as Tori stepped out of the car, the dock lights cutting the dark into short bright lines.

Jules' friend walked ahead, carrying a small bag and moving like he belonged. He led her down the pier, past rows of boats with music coming from them.

She kept her handbag close. The yacht tied at the end of the pier looked bigger than she had imagined from the photos on Jules' profile. White and glossy, with polished rails and a name stenciled on the stern. Someone had tied a rope with a neat knot, the sort you saw in movies. Men in dark shirts stood near the gangway, watching without much expression.

"Be careful stepping up," one of them said without smile.

Tori felt the knot in her stomach again. She had always hated water. It wasn't just fear, it sat there at the bottom of her, tight and cold. She'd never learned to swim properly. The lake from when she was little came back in flashes and the memory tightened her throat now.

She forced one foot onto the gangway and then the other. The wood shifted under her shoes. The yacht tilted a little. The motion almost made her drop her handbag. Somebody laughed from a yacht close by and the sound annoyed her.

She looked up and saw another yacht moving fast through the water, loud with people. She could see heads bent close together, hands on shoulders, hair wet with spray. A small group gathered around a low table with a mirrored tray. Someone leaned, and white lines were there. She watched one man bend and snort Cocaine, her stomach turned.

On the far side a third yacht had its deck full and bright. There was a woman everyone would recognize, she was in magazines, she smiled at red carpets and she lay across the deck.

A man who was not her husband was on top of her, both of them open to the night and nobody seemed to care about shame as the man raised her legs to place on his shoulder, fucked her harder and she moaned loudly. Tori's mouth went dry and she couldn't look away.

The friend led her up the short steps and onto the yacht. The wood on the deck felt solid and waxed under her shoes. A steward in a neat shirt took her handbag and nodded. The cabin smelled of lemon oil and expensive stuff. Narrow hallways led down into a living space with leather couches and low tables. Glassware was lined up behind a small bar.

"Jules said to give this to you," the friend said, handing her a small card. "He'll be back in a bit."

She opened it carefully. It said welcome and had a phone number. She slid it into her pocket and looked around. Pieces of a life here were obvious, framed photos, a sculptural bowl, a neat stack of magazines. Everything had been placed so it read like a curated set.

The friend shut the cabin door behind him and walked back down the gangway. The sound of his steps faded.

She stood there a second. Then a voice said, "Hey."

He was in the doorway, like he'd been waiting a little while. Jules was taller and more handsome than his pictures made him look. He had a cute beard and a jacket that fit the yacht. He smiled, casual and easy, and walked over.

"Hi," she said. It came out smaller than she wanted.

He hugged her quickly, that polite, testing kind of hug, and she felt some of the tension ease. "You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah. Fine." She wasn't. But she didn't explain the call from her father's hospital bed or that he told her to leave Washington and never come back. She didn't want to tell him that.

"Sit. I'll get us something," Jules said. He moved to the bar and poured a drink from a bottle. The yacht rocked gently. Light from other boats smeared across the windows, it sounded like a distant party.

He handed her a glass of Whiskey. "You want something stronger?" he asked.

"I want molly," she said. Saying it sounded odd and she was shocked she said that.

She kept four years in school watching her friends do molly and other drugs but never did she get tempted to try. But tonight she wanted the edge taken down, wanted a quiet she didn't have at the moment.

Jules didn't judge. "Alright. I can get that."

He left out the small door to the deck and the night air hit him. Tori watched the door close and felt the cabin grow bigger and emptier without him.

She walked through the cabin. Everything felt like a set. A framed photograph of a sunset. A travel book. A neat tray of glassware. She reached a small rail looking out to the bow and leaned on it.

Water moved below in small waves that made lights smear like paint. People on the other boats were closer now, their voices high. Someone on the loud yacht shouted and others laughed. A young man leaned too far over his rail and someone grabbed him by the shirt.

She thought about how she couldn't tell anyone where she was. Her father had said leave and not use the name.

She looked at the water and the old fear pushed in. She pictured hands dragging her out and the cold closing her throat. She tried to breathe slow and not let the image stay.

Jules came back carrying a small envelope and a cup. He sat down opposite her like nothing had changed. His fingers were steady when he set them down. He offered the cup. "You sure?" he asked softly.

She nodded then swallowed the pill. The world softened a little around the edges. Jules asked about her self, where she grew up, how long she'd been in the city. She gave short wrong answers. He listened without prying too deep.

Outside, the other boats moved and laughed and did things that looked reckless. The bright yacht with the white lines had drawn in closer and its people were louder now. The celebrity's blanket was gone and the couple on the deck were performing free porn for anyone who wanted to watch. Tori felt like she was watching something she hadn't asked to be part of.

Jules was easy to look at, he kept smiling and there was a calm to him she wanted to trust for one night.

He stood after a while. "I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere," he said, touching her shoulder for a second. The touch was light but it had a possessive edge. He went out the door to the deck and his footsteps moved away.

She stayed where she was and tried to keep her breathing even. The pills weren't doing what she wanted them to do, didn't her friends say they were happy pills? How come she wasn't happy?

The thought that someone could shove her over the side pinged her brain. She measured the distance from the deck to the water in a way she shouldn't have. It felt possible.

She moved toward the bow again. The deck was cooler now and the wind pulled her hair back. She closed her eyes and mouthed a small prayer, it steadied her a little.

The lights went off.

There were no sound from other boats as well, in fact the we're gone. Tori's breath caught.

"Jules?" She called softly.

For a second there was no answer. Then the yacht took a deep thud, a sound that ran through the floor and made pictures on the wall wobble. Glass chimed somewhere as a cup moved on a table. The boat tilted in a way that made her stomach drop and then settle. Water slapped the hull loud, loud enough that it felt like a beating.

Her fingers found the metal rail and she held on as the dark closed around everything.