Scandal a black diamond.., p.1
Scandal : A Black Diamond Novel, page 1
SCANDAL
A BLACK DIAMOND NOVEL
UNLUCKY 13
T. ASHLEIGH
Copyright © 2023 by T. Ashleigh
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.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the authors imagination or used in a fictitious manner.
Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events is purely coincidental.
Cover design: Rebel Ink Co.
Proofs by: Pollyané Nichols & Lindsay Hamilton
Formatting: Marie Ann
CONTENTS
Keep In Touch With T. Ashleigh
Playlist
Content Warnings
Welcome to Black Diamond
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Need More?
About the Author
Also By T. Ashleigh
WELCOME TO BLACK DIAMOND RESORT AND SPA…
I come from a long line of con artists and crooks.
In a family where money and power outweigh integrity, there’s only been one person I could always count on. My best friend, my other half, my twin; until he betrayed me.
Thanks to his lies, both my family and the media are breathing down my neck, giving me no choice but to ‘seek help’ at some fancy rehab resort.
Whatever.
I’ll do my time, go through the motions with this stupid five-step program, then wash my hands of this place and my past.
But why not have a little fun while I’m here?
Specifically, with the mysterious man I feel a strong, undeniable pull toward.
At first, it’s just some fun—a way to decompress after everything I’ve been through. Only we grow closer, and I catch feelings, despite thinking I’d never trust anyone again.
Big mistake.
It turns out, the person I fell for is not who I thought he was. And I don’t know what’s worse—my shattered heart or the scandal that caused it.
KEEP IN TOUCH WITH T. ASHLEIGH
PLAYLIST
Scandal- Unlucky 13 - playlist by T. Ashleigh | Spotify
Unsteady by XAmbassadors
Pieces by Rob Thomas
Red Lighter by SoMo
Unwell by Tawnted
Someone You Loved by Lewis Capaldi
Hurt People by Two Feet and Madison Love
Body to Body by Sture Zetterburg and Andrew Shubin
Anyone by Tommee Profitt and Fleurie
Hevan by FINNEAS
Iris by Our Last Night
Raine by Faime
Silhouette by Aquilo
Dynasty by MIIA
Love Is Gone by SLANDER and Dylan Matthew
CONTENT WARNINGS
Homophobia
Mental Illness- Mild Body Dysmorphic Disorder
Body Shaming
Childhood Bully Mentions
This book is intended for an 18+ audience due to sexual and graphic content.
If you have any questions, email me at Authort.ashleigh@gmail.com
WELCOME TO BLACK DIAMOND
Since our founding in 2001 by the Diamond family, we've strived to provide a unique experience from those who live in the public eye. Privacy and discretion is of the utmost importance to us so you won't find paparazzi or journalists looking for a juicy story on our shores, only the relaxing lapping of waves and delicious drinks.
Enjoy the all inclusive, private, resort built exclusively for the elite. From luxury villas to gorgeous white sand beaches, there's something here for everyone on the island. Water sports, hiking, massages, and 5 star gourmet meals will have you never wanting to leave.
So take a deep breath and let us handle the rest.
CHAPTER ONE
BECKETT
I fight back a yawn as I listen to Cole and Darren, my co-workers and best friends jabbering away about the latest E! gossip and America’s trending story—Christina Juliani and Robert Kulty caught in a compromising position after her latest movie premiere last week while his wife was home with their sick child.
I roll my eyes at the cliché and tune them out, doing a full sweep of the room, looking for something more exciting than this.
Bored.
That’s what I am. I need something other than Hollywood’s trending crap to liven up my life.
What’s happened to the media? There are way bigger things we can cover, but for some reason, the world is more interested in Hansel Cutter’s last season's Louis Vuitton handbag, or Tina Huber’s new flavor of the week than shit that actually matters. Like world hunger, helping the homeless, basic human rights…
‘Gossip and trash talk sell magazines,’ or so my boss preaches daily… I guess he’s not wrong, but it amazes me the things people are worried about. Like hello, it’s been almost a decade, and we’re still going on about Justin and Selena. I think it’s time the world moved on.
I spot Jett Roman and Zander Evans by the bar in what looks to be a heated conversation, and I can’t help but perk with interest. I’m nosey by nature, then throw in the fact I literally get paid to know people's business, and you can pretty much guarantee I’ll know the full rundown of someone’s life within hours of meeting them. It’s also a good way for me to drop them into one of two categories: a fraud or a realist.
I down the rest of my scotch, cutting off Darren mid-rant. “Going to get another drink, be back.” Not waiting for a response, I’m up and out of my seat, headed toward the bar.
I don’t get too close, that’d be obvious, but I get close enough to where I can make out Jett’s whisper-shouts.
“What can I get you?” the pretty, petite bartender asks, setting down a beverage napkin in front of me. His hand lingers a bit too long and I follow the trail up his white linen shirt and slim neck, focusing on the pale blue hues of his eyes. He’s cute, skinny, and looks bendy. I bet he’d be fun in bed. I’m close to dropping something suggestive, but then the shrill panic in Jett’s tone cuts off my runaway thoughts, and I remember why I came over here to begin with.
Focus, Beck, your dick will just have to wait.
“Glenlivet on the rocks.” My tone is curt, and I see the bartender pout a bit at my loss of interest before he sashays away to make my drink. I won’t lie… my eyes eat up every bit of that bubble-butt when he’s turned away. Then I peek at Jett again and wonder for a moment if he’s actually worth me not getting my dick sucked. I mean, they’re probably just arguing about his ‘broken Versace sunglasses’ or some shit. This guy is a drama queen to the fullest. I have no doubt something simple would work him into a tizzy.
When the bartender comes back with my drink, I hand him a twenty, telling him to keep the change before bringing the glass to my mouth in an attempt to avoid any further interaction. I need him to go away so I can focus.
He gets the hint, taking his money, and biteable ass with him to the register. I apologize to my dick and have a very quick moment of silence to mourn the loss of what could have been a great fuck before slapping on my game face and getting back to work.
I can’t make out much over the aimless chatter and background music, but I do hear the words Molly, vampire, and murder. Molly the Vampire Murderer? Maybe that’s the name of a new show he’s auditioning for. I wouldn’t be surprised; Hollywood comes up with some crazy shit these days.
Intrigued, I slide over one chair, tilting my head and willing my ear to catch more of the conversation. Why do we have to be in the Lotus Lounge of all places? Probably because it’s the newest celebrity hot spot, you dumbass.
“Chill out, Jett. You’re always so high-strung,” Zander says to him, pulling me from my wandering thoughts once again. Damn, I probably shouldn't have another drink. My ability to focus is shit right now.
I catch Jett dramatically waving his hands in the air, clearly pissed off. “Yes! I am. Precisely. And that’s why I needed the fucking Ritalin to help me concentrate tonight! Not Molly!”
Oh damn! Jackpot! This sounds juicy, and my hand itches to pull out my phone to record.
“Who’s Molly?” My body jerks with surprise at the newcomer and I shift, catching a glimpse of the busty redhead in my peripheral. Thank fuck, it’s just Lucy Love—not a real name, but she dropped Smith when she became famous, and who can blame her? Can you imagine watching a TV show starring Lucy Smith? It just doesn’t have the same oomph.
A beat passes and I wait with bated breath for what comes next, but of course, that’s when some random person chooses to approach me, cutting me off from the conversation. Fuck!
“Can I buy you another drink?” the George Clooney look-alike asks. Now, I have a major soft spot for a silver fox, especially the closeted Hollywood type.
“Not interested,” I mutter, shifting away slightly and hoping he’ll catch the hint… He doesn’t.
“Are you sure?” He reaches out, dragging his finger down the exposed skin of my forearm, and that’s when I catch the golden glint of the wedding band on his left hand. Cliché after cliché, coming in hot tonight. “We could have so much fun together.”
Yeah, I bet we could, prick. I roll my eyes, pushing his hand away. “I’m good. Why don’t you go find your wife?” I shoo him off, but he doesn’t budge.
Typical.
“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” He produces a slimy smile, his hand coming back to grab my arm again, and I can tell this is going to be an issue if I don’t nip it in the bud right now.
“Look, George,” I start, not giving a flying fuck if that’s actually his name or not, then stand from my stool, plucking his hand from my arm. “I’m not interested. I’m waiting on a colleague, so you’re wasting your time.”
His eyes dance with humor and he leans in, his stale breath fanning across my cheek as he speaks. Gross. “I don’t mind waiting. I can sense you’d be worth it.”
Okay, I’m done. My fists clench and I do a mental countdown from ten, willing my aggravation to go away. This guy is about fifteen seconds away from being popped in the mouth, and I’m hours away from being plastered on multiple magazine covers. I can already picture the headlines painting me out to be the villain of this story, even though this guy has it coming. Someone needs to get this man away from me before I choose violence.
A hectic turn of events happens next. It’s as if the universe is listening for once in my damn life.
Jett staggers from his stool, successfully knocking into me, and I stumble into George and the freshly made glass of brandy he’s holding. I watch with smug satisfaction as it tips just right, covering the entire front of his white button-down, staining it with the reddish-brown liquid.
Score!
George lets out a curse before setting his glass down forcefully on the bar top as he glares at me like I’m the cause for this. When, in reality, if he’d just left me alone to begin with, none of this would have happened.
“I’m sorry.” Jett’s whimsical voice meets my ears, and I turn to him in time to see his face twist as a loud laugh bursts past his lips. “Oh, man. Your shirt is fucked.” He stares at the stain, blinking rapidly, like his eyes are trying to focus, then he pats George on the shoulder and shuffles with unsteady legs toward the dance floor—clearly high off his ass. His friends don't even acknowledge us when they pass, in too big of a hurry to catch up with him.
Damn it! I missed the entire story.
“Spoiled, incompetent, unbelievable…” George mutters under his breath before grabbing a stack of napkins off the bar top and storming away. I glare daggers into his back, sending him nothing but bad vibes. Flat tire, gain twenty pounds, break a tooth… Universe, if you're listening, grant the world this service and give that guy what’s coming to him.
“Asshole,” I grit out, spinning around and heading back to my table of friends. Well, I try to, but a sudden shriek followed by a cascade of flashes draws me in and I spot Jett, rolling his hips to the seductive beat of “Pony” by Genuine as he strips down to practically nothing. I note Lucy is trying her damnedest to get him to stop, but Zander is nowhere to be found.
Interesting.
Also, fuck me! I just lost out on what could have been a great article had it not been for fuckface George.
I’m irritated and the desire to be here is fading with every passing beat. Turning to the table where my friends were sitting, I’m met with empty chairs. They probably rushed to get up to watch the show, much like everyone else in this place.
Not bothering to look for them, I pull out my phone and shoot them a text, letting them know I’m leaving before ordering a Lyft. According to the app, Marcus will be here in thirty minutes, which means I have enough time to piss, and then grab my checked coat before heading out front to meet him.
There’s a small line to get into the bathroom, and I busy myself weeding through emails as I wait for my turn. It’s mostly just fake news and I roll my eyes at the “UFO Sighting” title. Give me a break, people. Aliens aren’t real. I don’t care how many ‘crop circles’ you think you find. It’s all smoke and mirrors, like most of the shit I see daily. Fake—the world is full of nothing but fake news and desperate people begging for a little bit of limelight. It’s exhausting. I need a damn vacation.
“Hey, we’re not done here!” The shouting causes my head to snap up with interest.
Speaking of limelight. Looks like I found where Zander got off to after all. He’s marching down the hall, trying to catch up with someone I can’t quite make out from this distance. Curiosity piqued, I step out of line, bladder be damned, and follow him to the emergency exit. I catch the outside door before it clicks in place and I push it open cautiously, not wanting to be caught snooping. When I hear his yells and feet moving as he continues on, I know it’s safe to follow. He’s too engrossed in whatever the hell he’s doing to pay attention to me. Terrible news for him, but the best kind for me.
Sliding out the door, I toe off my right shoe and use it as a door prop. I’ve done worse. It kind of comes with the territory. I press my back against the brick, doing a slow walk down the alley and trying to not cringe at the snags being made to my new shirt. The shit I do for a good story.
I don’t get far, just a few steps, but it’s enough for me to get a good view of Zander and… wait. I blink hard, trying to clear my vision and expecting the person to change, but when my eyes track up the discolored skin of his neck, I know I’m right.
It’s Austin O’Kane. The mysterious O’Kane brother that no one really knows anything about. He doesn’t do social events, choosing to stay out of the spotlight. Austin’s seen at charity events now and then and in the occasional post on Instagram by his twin brother, Aaron. He’s very quiet. Too quiet, and it makes me want to step out of the shadows and head straight to him to pick his brain.
Austin O’Kane is the firstborn son of Lucas O’Kane, the CEO of one of the largest pharmaceutical companies in the United States. Lucas is a grade A prick and his other son, Aaron, is the same. I don’t know about Austin, but I’d bet he’s like them, too. Most people with power, money, or popularity usually are.
“The fuck were you thinking? Molly? Seriously? You said we would just mess him up a bit. Have him slur his way through an interview or something… not destroy him completely,” Zander grits out, grabbing Austin and slamming him into the wall. “He’s never going to forgive me.”
A loud laugh tears past Austin’s lips, and he jerks out of Zander’s hold. Yup, my earlier assessment was correct. He’s a dick just like his family. Such a shame because he’s hot.
“I can’t tell if you’re just pathetic or playing a part. Actors, you’re all the same.” He dusts off his jacket and goes to step around him, but Zander isn’t having that.
Grabbing hold of his arm, he spins Austin around to face him again. “We had a plan,” Zander bites out in a mix of frustration and terror.
“Why are you acting like you didn’t know how this would play out? You got what you wanted. Jett out of the way.”
“Not at this cost!” Zander takes a step back and fists his hair. “How am I even going to explain this?”
