Time For A Bad Boy

Chapter 01

Sapphire

"I'm really sorry, baby. I just don't feel good."

"Oh, Jason, it's okay. Get some rest. How I wish I’m there to take care of you."

I put on a nice pair of white pearl earrings as I talk to my fiancé, Jason, on the phone. We’re supposed to go to one of my charity events tonight, but he's sick, so he’s cancelling at the last minute. I hope he feels better soon.

"I feel bad, Sapphire. I know this is important to you," Jason says on the line, his voice sounding weak.

"It's fine," I try to assure him, although I feel disappointed myself. "Don't worry about me, okay?"

"All right. See you tomorrow?" he asks.

"Yes," I reply, "Good night, Jason."

"Good night, Sapphire."

I hang up the phone and look at myself in the vanity. With toffee-colored skin, brown eyes, long curly black hair, and an hourglass figure, everyone tells me I should be a model. But, no, that's not for me.

I actually like doing something more significant. I prefer organizing charity events, which will help the needy and less fortunate. It makes me feel good to know I’m putting my talents to good use.

I apply some mascara on my long lashes and some red lipstick as a statement. When I’m satisfied with my makeup, I stand and take an overall look at my outfit.

I'm wearing a white pantsuit and a pair of black heels for tonight's event. I tie my hair in a low ponytail, to make the look more informal. I take one last glance at myself in the mirror before grabbing my purse and heading for the door.

I stare at my three cars, contemplating which one I should drive tonight. I choose the red Bentayga V8 and start to drive away. This car matches my lips perfectly.

I drive my car through the busy streets of New York. I find this relaxing most of the time, especially when I see the lights and the tall skyscrapers of the city. I also like watching people as they walk toward different directions in a hurry, as if not a minute should be wasted.

The security guard tells me the event has been canceled as I arrive. This night just keeps getting better and better.

"Good evening, Ms. Finley," the guard greets me, "I'm sorry for the late notice, but the event has been canceled due to a gas leak."

"Really? Is everything okay now?" I ask, feeling anxious.

"Yes, ma'am. We're just taking some extra precautions so the building will remain closed for a few more days," he says apologetically. 

"I understand. Well, I guess I should just go back home." I bid him goodbye and start driving again. On my way home, I decide to drop by Jason's condo. 

I don't bother sending Jason a text to say I’m coming. I want to surprise him, so I go straight to his condo and open the door using the keys he gave me. What in the actual fuck is going on here?

Nothing prepares me for what I see. On the floor are scattered articles of women’s clothing, and a pair of pants that clearly belong to Jason. 

I should know because they were a gift from me!

I feel my throat constricting and my heart beating fast against my chest. No, this can't be. I put a hand over my mouth to stop myself from screaming.

I continue to walk toward Jason's room and slowly open the door, careful not to make any noise. There, I find Jason sitting up on the bed, his back against the headboard. The woman grinding on top of him has her back to me, so I can't see her face.

She has shoulder-length brown hair, which kind of looks familiar. The woman moans as she moves her hips in circles, calling out Jason's name. What a slut.

"Oh, God, Jason. You're so fucking big," she says breathlessly. The woman's moans are so loud, I'm pretty sure the neighbors can hear her. 

"He is, isn't he?" I say in a voice clear enough for the two of them to hear. The woman shrieks, and they suddenly scram, like little rats trying to get into safety.

As soon as the woman turns to face me, my heart drops. It's my friend, Martha, who’s supposed to be one of my bridesmaids. Traitor!

"Are you so desperate that you went after my man, Martha?" I ask in a calm voice. She tries to cover herself with a blanket, which just makes her look more pathetic.

"Baby," Jason butts in, "I can explain. It's not what it looks like."

"Oh, really?” I sneer at him. "’It's not what it looks like’? I graduated with Latin honors, Jason. What do you take me for?"

I can't believe the audacity of these two. For a few minutes, nobody dares to speak. I compose myself and address Jason.

"Besides, a person doesn't have to be smart to realize what you're doing." I'm trying my best to remain calm, but I really want to slap his face. 

It's as if he can read my mind, for he suddenly steps back to cover his dick with a pillow.

"Why did you two stop?" I mock. "Please, continue. I'm not the one who’s wary of intimacy. I even watch porn."

I smirk at them, Martha looks like she's about to cry. Too late  for that, bitch. She looks at Jason as if asking for help, and I can't help but call her out.

"I feel sorry for you, Martha. What do you think will happen to you after this?" I ask as I take my phone out.

"Sapphire, please," she begs, as tears stream down her eyes. Martha's a beautiful woman, but she doesn't look like it now.

"Please, what?" I raise an eyebrow at her.

"I'm sorry. It was a mistake," she says in between sobs. I roll my eyes at the pathetic excuse.

"You know what? I think I’ll take a souvenir." I hold my phone steady in my hand and snap a photo.

"Jesus, Sapphire!" Jason exclaims, "what's that for?"

"Picture perfect," I say sarcastically. "To make sure you’re not accepted in New York's party scene again."

I give them one last smile before leaving with my head held high. I have nothing to be ashamed of.

I hear Jason calling me, but I ignore him. I immediately leave his condo and head for the elevator. Breathe, Sapphire. 

As soon as I get out of Jason's building, my legs suddenly turn to jelly. Tears are threatening to fall from my eyes, and they do before I can even stop them.

Jason can go fuck himself. I'm Sapphire Finley, and I don't need an awful, unfaithful man in my life. Better to know now than after the wedding. 

It's his loss, not mine.

But is it, really?