All My Books

Provocation (Book 3 of The Conquest Series)

Prologue 

“Nate?” Harry asked. His voice sounded more controlled more than he actually felt. “What’s going on? Is everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine, geez,” Nate told his father, rolling his eyes at the phone. “I was just going to let you know I’ve hired all the necessary management and have made plans for a trip back to the states.”

“Really? What brought this on?”

Harry had known that Nate wouldn’t be able to handle the reins for all the Charles’ businesses by himself, but he didn’t expect his son to come home directly after newly appointing his executive and management teams.

“I...I just need to get away for a bit,” Nate told him. “It’s been a while since I’ve been back home, and I think I want to stick close by for a bit.”

“But the wedding’s not for another two months,” Harry argued. “Surely you can wait to come back until then.”

Harry didn’t want his businesses being run without Nate being there to oversee them. He had only met the prospective management through Zoom and Skype, and he liked to have a better idea about them before allowing them to run his companies into the ground.

“I’m taking an extended vacation,” Nate told him. “During which time I told everyone at work I would be able to be reached at any time, day or night. Your companies are still safe with me, Pop.”

“How long is this vacation?”

Nate could hear the suspicion in his father’s voice, and he sighed quietly. “I’m not sure yet,” Nate admitted. “Listen, I just wanted to tell you so you weren’t surprised when I popped up on your doorstep with some luggage and a smile. We can talk more about it when I get there.”

Harry sighed as well, quite loudly into the phone. He was irritated with his firstborn, and it showed in the long exhalation of air. “Fine,” Harry told him. “We’ll discuss this over drinks when you get in. Send your mother your itinerary and we’ll have someone pick you up from the airport.”

After hanging up the phone a minute later, Nate went back to packing up his flat in London. He had movers coming over for the larger items, and some of his smaller belongings were being shipped back to the States. His clothing and toiletries were waiting to be packed away in his bedroom, and there was a number of smaller things he needed to attend to. Mainly, giving his key to his landlord and having his utilities taken out of his name. The place was already set for lease once he left.

A knock on the door announced the movers who would take his items to the storage place until he could figure out what to do with the larger furniture. He hadn’t told his father, but he wasn’t planning on coming back to England—not now, at least. Hopefully, not ever again, but he wasn’t naïve enough to think that there wouldn’t be times he would need to go back for any number of reasons. After all, it was what his father had done until a few years ago when he had handed the reins over to Nathan Charles, his son.

But no, things were different now. Unpleasant. Every purchase he had made in the past year and every movie stub or ticket he kept from a show on The West End was now a reminder of why he needed to leave.

Fucking Lorelei.

After letting in the movers and giving them the keys to his storage unit, he let them work as he thumbed through his phone, trying to delete every last photo of her or them together. He had a hard time doing so before remembering what had happened a couple of weeks previously.

Heading over to her flat after work, he had decided to surprise her with dinner and some flowers. He’d shown up to her flat before with flowers and food on a whim, and she had been elated by his sweet gestures. Not so much, that time.

That time, he had found a man at her place. A man in a very particular place in her flat. Her bedroom. Nude. Being ridden by a squealing Lorelei like she was a squeaky toy that some dog was happily gnawing on.

He had cursed up a storm when finding them, and she had sworn and hopped off the man’s lap naked, heading towards him. Nate had thrown the Indian food he’d bought for them against the wall of the living room before stomping out of her place, never looking back.

Since then, she had tried to call him numerous times until he finally blocked her phone number. He couldn’t turn off the phone since it was used for work as well, and it wasn’t really going to matter all that much once he went back to the US. He could toss the phone into the Atlantic Ocean and it wouldn’t have mattered after that. He would send his new contact information to his subordinates once he latched onto a phone carrier in California.

His flight for New York was for later that evening. It was a red-eye to the Big Apple and then a 4-hour layover at JFK until a non-stop flight to SFO. Nate hated layovers, but figured if he had to wait for four hours for a non-stop flight to the west coast, it would be worth it in the end. He was bound to be jetlagged as f**k by the time he got to Pacific Standard Time.

But still, he couldn’t wait. It had been almost a year since he had been back, and he missed them all. His sister, his parents. Even Carl, his future brother-in-law, would be a sight for sore eyes after the last couple of weeks.

And Mason, his nephew. The only reason he had left the U.K. to visit last year. When his sister had announced she was pregnant after having been with her boyfriend—now fiancé—for a year, he had been shocked. Violet was usually quite careful, but for all it was worth, the pregnancy seemed to be a shock to her as well.

So much for Depo shots.

And now that she was getting married in a couple of months, Nate felt the need to be closer to his family. He was missing out on his life in the Bay Area. A life he wished he had never left now.

Phoning Violet after the movers left, Nate had to snort at his sister’s greeting.

“Did you tell him yet?” he heard through the earpiece.

“Sort of,” Nate replied.

“What do you mean, ‘sort of’?” Violet asked. “He either knows or he doesn’t.”

“He knows I’m coming home, but not the reasons why or that it’s a permanent move,” Nate told her. He heard her sigh.

“He’s going to flip,” Violet grumbled.

“Then he can flip when I arrive there,” Nate told her. “It’ll be fine. The guys I have taking over for me have years of experience. It’ll be like I’m not even gone.”

“Well, Mason can’t wait to see you, and even Carl has been talking you up to the little guy,” Violet told him.

“I don’t even want to know what Carl’s been saying about me,” Nate remarked. If it came out of Carl’s mouth, it probably had some s****l undertones to it.

“He’s been playing up the fun uncle card,” Violet informed him. “Not that Mason can understand a bit of it. He’s not even a year old yet.”

“Has he spoken yet? Walked?” Nate asked, though he assumed Violet would have sent out a group text or video if the little guy had. Mason had wrapped his parents around his chubby little fingers from the start.

“No, he babbled something that sounded like ‘Yemen’ the other day, but I’m sure that was just a fluke. He is getting closer to walking, though,” Violet told him.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yes. He pulls himself up fine, but his butt meets the floor within a millisecond afterward. It’s only a matter of time, of course.”

“God forbid when he starts running,” Nate said with a chuckle. “Carl won’t have to go to the gym anymore. He’ll get all his exercise wrangling his son.”

“Trust me, Carl gets plenty of exercise at any rate,” Violet said to him in a dry tone.

“And on that note, I’m getting off the phone,” Nate stated. Listening to anything alluding to his little sister’s s*x life wasn’t something he wanted to discuss no matter if it was in person or via cellular technology. Knowing she had a baby from it was the only nod toward s****l intercourse he wanted to hear in regard to her.

“Fine, fine,” she said. “I’ll talk to you after you get back to the states. You send Mom your flight info yet?”

“I’m just about to,” Nate told her. She was so much like their father sometimes, it was ridiculous.

Nate was done with packing and had only a few more minutes before his cab would pick him up to take him to the airport. He went to his phone again, this time deciding to delete Lorelei’s text messages and phone number. In one flick of his wrist, her texts were no longer, and he went to her number on his contacts page.

Lorelei McCormick

With one final swipe, he got rid of the last vestiges of his life in England and went out his front door one last time just before the cab came to a halt in front of his building.

The early morning fog had given way to a light drizzle, and Nate had stupidly packed up his umbrellas, thinking he wouldn’t need them in sunny California.

It would be of no consequence once he got to Heathrow and he wouldn’t have to deal with the dank weather until the rainy season came to northern California. By then he would be unpacked and thousands upon thousands of miles away from the dreary weather and manipulative little minx that had given him the idea to leave in the first f*****g place.

Chapter One 

“Come here, ya little rug rat,” Carl chuckled as he slowly followed his giggling infant son across the living room floor. He exaggeratedly pretended he was too slow to catch the 9-month-old as he crawled over thick, carpeted floors. Mason thought he was getting one over on his father and giggled with unfettered glee as his chubby arms and legs propelled him across the room.

“Stop playing around. He needs to eat,” Violet admonished Carl, frowning. She didn’t know who was worse, the baby or Carl. Both were difficult to pin down in any situation. Bath times, mealtimes, bedtimes—well, maybe not so much bedtimes with Carl. Beds meant s*x to him, and he took advantage—at every juncture—of a nice, soft bed.

“Five more minutes, Mom,” Carl called to Violet as he folded himself to the floor to crawl after Mason. It seemed to light a fire under the baby’s tiny rump, and his limbs spraddled as he tried to get away.

Violet watched as the two of them crawled away on all fours.

“Be honest,” Leila said with a chuckle. “Which is the bigger child, Mason or Carl?”

“Physically, it’s Carl,” Violet told her as she set down a dish of pasta for them to all eat. “Mentally...still Carl.”

Leila hooted with laughter at her friend. With Violet’s budding career as a Family and Marriage Counselor and Leila’s work as an architect, it was hard for the two of them to make time to see each other. Add on a sophomoric fiancé and a baby, and it was almost an impossibility.

“Oh, did I tell you that my brother is back in the States?” Violet asked as she twirled a bit of fettuccine on her fork.

“No, you didn’t,” Leila said with a frown. “You only live within twenty minutes from me and yet you are the world’s worst correspondent.”

“I know, I know,” Violet groaned and placed a forkful of food in her mouth.

“Is he here for the wedding or will he become a permanent fixture in our lives?”

“I’m here for good, if you’re talking about me,” Carl spoke. He was carrying a wriggling Mason in his arms as he came into the room and bent over with the child to kiss Violet’s temple.

“Why would we talk about you?” Violet asked. “You’re here and you’ve got my anchor to you in your arms.”

Carl placed Mason in his high chair and smiled. “Yes, I sure did trap you with this little guy, didn’t I?”

“Isn’t it the female that’s supposed to trap the unconquerable man?” Leila asked with a smirk.

“Not in this case,” Carl retorted. “I had to impregnate her before she got smart and realized she could do better than a recovering manwhore. Plus, I didn’t even have to try. I have super sperm to spare.”

“Little ears,” Violet warned him, pointing to Mason.

“What? It’s not a curse,” Carl told her and sat down next to Mason, who had a bottle in front of him and some baby food in a tray. “If it makes you feel better, I can call it ejaculate.”

“What would make me feel better is if we dropped the subject of your baby batter while I’m eating,” Leila tossed back. “Talking ejaculate while eating fettuccine alfredo is making me want to gag.”

“Fine. Consider the topic of my super swimmers to be dropped,” he remarked to Leila and bent to take up a tiny little spoon so he could feed Mason. Leila wanted to laugh since his hands were almost too large for the task.

“So...back to my bro—” Violet began to say.

“Ah, my second favorite topic of conversation,” Leila interrupted. “My gag reflex is hereby maxed out.”

“I don’t know why you and Nate don’t get along,” Violet sighed.

“It’s because he is an insolent little prick whose arrogance knows no bounds,” Leila reminded her. “Vi, Nate and I haven’t gotten along since I was 15. That’s when he got involved with a different crowd. The country club crowd. The rest of the school just wasn’t good enough for him then.”

“Most of the school was country club,” Violet reminded her.

“Ah yes, but there are even echelons amongst the wealthy country club elite,” Leila explained. “You have a hierarchy within a hierarchy. It’s ridiculous.”

“Agreed, but maybe he’s changed since living in London,” Violet said, defending her older brother.

“When pigs fly,” Leila rebuffed. She stabbed some noodles on her fork, irritated at the topic of conversation. Nathan Charles always seemed to bring out the b***h in her.

“Regardless of the prick my brother can be,” Violet said. “We are having a welcome home dinner for him next weekend, and this is me officially inviting you.”

“Then this is my official answer,” Leila replied. “‘No, thank you’.”

“Come on La La,” Violet whined. Leila had to laugh when Mason glanced at his mother and looked like he was about to cry.

“No way,” Leila said. “And what’s with that face that Mason’s got on? Is he gassy?”

“Either he’s about to fart, poop, or he just plain doesn’t like your answer to my offer,” Violet told her.

“Too bad he doesn’t have a say then,” Leila said while lifting her fork to her mouth again.

“Yeah,” Carl groaned, his nose crinkling. “We have our answer. It was poop.”

“Take him away, Carl!” Violet urged him, shooing him into another room. The smell of Mason’s dookie had been known to kill wildlife and fauna hundreds of feet away from his soiled diapers. It could have been a catalyst to the ever-expanding hole in the ozone layer.

“This is your fault for feeding him that organic crap,” Carl stated as he lifted Mason out of his high chair. “I was fed on that regular corn-syrupy deliciousness and look at me—I turned out fine.”

“Well, he is right,” Leila said in a low voice after Carl left. “He is still fine.”

>>

In the three years since Carl and Violet had been a couple, Leila had seen her share of new faces cross her threshold. While her friend was playing house and perfect family with Carl and Mason, Leila was the same old love ‘em and leave ‘em girl she always had been.

Come to think of it, she was almost the female version of what—or rather, who—Carl used to be, though not in such dramatic terms. She wasn’t anti-relationship specifically, she just didn’t find anyone entertaining or enjoyable enough to try to make a real go of it.

Before she had left Violet and Carl’s place in the Hayward hills, Violet had cajoled and coaxed her until she had finally given in. In one week’s time, she would be at dinner with the Charleses and their friends, celebrating the return of Nate. Or at least everyone else would celebrate. Leila had no love for Nathan Charles.

It hadn’t always been the case, though. She’d had a fleeting crush on him when she was 16. He was the cute, older brother of her best friend. It was almost cliché that she would have had a crush on the 19-going-on-20-year-old.

But as all fleeting crushes went, it burned bright before fizzling out slowly. By the time Nate had turned 21, she had decided his arrogant ways were less appealing than his beautiful exterior.

Nate had been quite popular when he went to business school, and there wasn’t a time when he didn’t bring some lady friend back with him when he visited his home in the South Bay. They may have stayed a couple weeks or the whole summer, but he never kept one with him for long, maybe a few months at the most.

Unbeknownst to Leila, it wasn’t due to Nate being fickle. It was exactly the opposite. He hated fickle women, and he was always the one to fall headlong into love while his girlfriend wanted something a little less steady.

And something more than what Nate could give them.

Danger. Many women wanted the dangerous bad boy and not the stable, down-to-earth academic. It was an irritating fact of life and love. No woman wanted the man they could have a future with. They wanted to be the one to tame the bad boy, make him kneel to their beauty and wit. No female wanted a relatively friendly, kind-hearted man who thought with his head as much as his heart.

The women Nate had brought home as a college student dwindled when he had moved to England and Leila lost touch. Not that there was much touching—or talking anyways. Leila only heard about Nate when Violet mentioned him, which was relatively rare. Vi knew there was no love lost between the two. She had only mentioned him tonight because she had invited her to the dinner to welcome her brother home. Violet’s mother, Mathilde, saw Leila almost as one of her own children.

If it was up to Leila, she wouldn’t go anywhere near Nate. They were like siblings with their rivalries and clashes of will. They fought like cats and dogs, and it was always bound to get heated when the two were in the same room.

Maybe it would be different this time. Nate was now 26 and an adult. At least more of an adult than the last time Leila had seen him, and that had been quite a few years ago. It was easy to ignore a man who was thousands of miles away and rarely came home to the West Coast of the United States.

As soon as Leila walked into the upstairs apartment of the duplex she owned, her cell phone rang. Checking it, she recognized the name of her friend and personal assistant, Jared.

“Hey, Jare,” Leila greeted as she searched for a place to set her purse down. She really needed to clean up around here. It was starting to look like the seasonal aisles of Target the day after Christmas. Utter mayhem.

“Lovely lady, I call bearing bad tidings,” Jared told her, his lilting voice one part angelic, one part fiendish.

“Oh God, what now?” Leila blurted out, cringing.

“That new tenant you have lined up just called and stated she’s moving back to Texas or something,” Jared told her. “Her mother has cancer.”

“She was from Kansas,” Leila said offhandedly.

“Kansas, Texas—the same thing really,” Jared told her airily, sighing. “Those middle states are full of cowboys and homophobes.”

“Not true,” Leila disagreed. “Reggie’s from Texas and he’s gay.”

 “Not the point, but bless you for thinking of Reggie. I now have enough fodder for tonight’s spank bank.”

“Ew.”

“Anyway, so Lisa or Leslie or whoever can’t come to sign the contract and will be exiled to the Midwest until either her mother goes toes up or falls into remission,” Jared said, powering on. “Would you like me to put another advert out? I can head to Craigslist or contact the realtor again. Your choice, love.”

“Sit on it for now,” Leila replied, sighing. It’s not like she was in a hurry to rent out the bottom floor of her duplex, and she definitely wasn’t hurting for money at any rate. “I have too many appointments and meetings in the next two weeks, so I won’t be able to meet with anyone anyways.”

“Good thing, too,” Jared retorted sarcastically. “I was getting so bored working my normal 60 hours per week.”

“You get overtime for those extra hours, Jare,” Leila reminded him. “I don’t see you complaining when you get those fat checks deposited to your bank account on paydays.”

“True, I do love to spend my extra dough,” he said wistfully. “Mama needs her bling.”

Rolling her eyes, Leila found an empty space on her kitchen table to lay her purse down. “Is that all you called about, or is there drama in your dating life again?”

“You know me so well, sugar,” Jared simpered, and he was off.

His on-again-off-again boyfriend—whom Jared sometimes lived with and sometimes not—was now off-again. This time he was making noises about it being for good. Mickey could be a real prick when he wanted to be.

“Then leave him finally,” Leila told him. “Pack your s**t up in that lonely little Louis Vuitton bag you carry back and forth from his place and call it quits. The guy is a douche.”

“Mickey is...well, he’s complicated,” Jare defended.

“Life is complicated,” Leila spat back. “That doesn’t give him a free pass to Asshole Island.”

“Now that’s a place I might like to see one of these days.” Of course her gay friend would focus on the word asshole in the most literal sense of the word.

“Listen, Dr. Phil here has to go get ready for bed,” Leila stated, giving up on talking any sense into the man. “Mama needs her beauty rest for tomorrow.”

“Okay, sugar bear,” Jared said. “Let me know when you need to put that bottom level up on the market again.”             

“Can’t you just call me Leila like a normal friend?” Jared never called her anything other than a term of endearment unless they were at the office.

“Now, pookie! Why ever would I do such a thing?”

>>

“Leila!” Mathilde cried as the younger woman met her at the door to the Charles estate. If Leila didn’t know any better, she would have thought that Mathilde was already sampling the champagne she’d probably flown in from France for the celebration tonight.

Mathilde Charles was sometimes over the top with her gestures and parties.

“Hi, Mathilde,” Leila’s voice rang out. She had long gotten over Mathilde’s insistence on calling her by her first name. Mattie liked to think of herself as “just one of the girls”—even if she was twice her daughter’s and daughter’s best friend’s ages.

“My dear, it’s so good to see you again,” Mathilde told her, giving her a kiss on each cheek. “It’s been ages!”

“Blame your daughter,” Leila told Mattie pointedly with a wry smile. “She’s impossible to get hold of, and when we do hang out it’s usually at her house since she’s got Mason to care for.”

“Hey, Leila,” another female voice called out.

Looking over at Constance, she could see that the woman was pregnant again. Her baby bump looked to be only four to five months along if Leila had to guess.

Leila couldn’t say she was friends with Constance, but they were acquaintances that got along, so she gave her a hug and a congratulations as she wandered deeper into the opulent home.

“How far along are you?” she asked Constance as they strode towards the sitting room. A lot of noise was coming from it, and much of it had all to do with a squealing Lizzie and mumbling, babbling Mason.

“Four and a half months,” Constance told her, rubbing her belly slightly. “I think we are going to find out the s*x at the next appointment, so don’t even ask yet. I’m tired of telling everyone I don’t know.”

Walking into the sitting room, the large space was packed with people. Ramon had brought along Mariana with his three children, some who were entertaining the squealing younger ones, Lizzie and Mason. Carl and Violet were already there and watching the proceedings as eight-year-old Luca Gutierrez showed Lizzie and Mason a magic trick he had perfected only the week before. Mason was doing his best to try and unravel the secrets of the “never-ending scarf” trick that Luca was trying to pull off. The oldest Gutierrez had an active little audience that seemed bent on his early retirement from magician-hood.

Of course, Mathilde and Harry were there, and Aiden walked into the room right after Constance and Leila arrived, bringing a couple of tumblers full of an amber liquid on ice that Leila guessed was probably scotch. They were nothing if not consistent on their favorite liquor.

Mathilde offered Leila a drink, but she declined any hard liquors as she had to drive later, though she would probably partake in a glass of wine with dinner as she usually did.

Even if the party was in his favor, Nate was nowhere to be seen, and Leila figured he was either getting himself a drink or was up in his room, not ready to face the raucous crowd that awaited him below in the sitting room.

Leila spoke with Carl and Violet for a while before excusing herself to use the restroom. On the way, she ran into the guest of honor.

“Nate.” She greeted him briefly with a nod. “Welcome back. Your welcoming committee seems to have started without you.”

“Hello, Leila,” he told her, voice clipped and dry. “Good to see you got your invite to this dinner. I suppose I have either my mother or Violet to thank for your presence here this evening.”

“Well, it certainly wasn’t my first choice for a Saturday night, but I’ll make do,” she told him.

“Well, I certainly hope my party’s not keeping you from screwing your flavor of the week,” Nate bit out, giving her a thin smile that spoke of his irritation of her mere presence at the party.

“Just as I hope your party’s not keeping you from striking out talking to women at the bar.”

Smile bright but fake, Leila shoved past him, regretting ever having agreed to attend Nate’s welcome home party.

>>

“So, are you staying until the wedding?” Constance asked as she cut up some of the veal on her plate before slipping the fork into her mouth.

“I’m staying for good,” Nate told her, shocking the entire room.

“What about the businesses in England?” Aiden asked, looking between Harry and Nate. The former looked to be gritting his teeth, and it was obvious he was not happy with his son’s announcement, though he had known about it already.

“I have fully staffed the businesses and all of the managers and execs on staff are more than capable of running them on their own,” Nate advised him. “I will still be reachable by phone in the event they need my assistance, but otherwise I will stick to my side of the pond while Jenkins, Ackerly, and Farnes make most of the decisions.”

There were a lot of questions for him, and Leila had to admit, he answered them all with grace and civility. He didn’t seem annoyed or irritated as the questions were flung at him in a rapid-fire progression. It was all Leila could do not to tell everyone to quit with the third degree. She didn’t feel like hearing a bunch of questions about businesses she had no interest in, or a country she most likely would never visit. It bored her to tears.

She turned to Constance, who was speaking with Violet.

“When are you going to expand and given Mason a little sister or brother?” Constance was asking of Violet.

“Dear sweet Jesus,” Violet said, paling. “At least let me get one out of diapers before you give me ideas about having another one.”

“Yeah, she’s only just been able to potty-train Carl,” Leila added with a smirk.

“I heard that!”

“You were meant to, Carl.”

“And what about your job, Leila? How’s that treating you?” Constance questioned. She knew Leila was an architect and had her own business, but not much else.

 “Business is booming, thank goodness,” Leila told her and took a sip of merlot. “I have some more contracts I have to bid for in another month, but otherwise I couldn’t be more pleased.”

“Yes, tell us more about the fascinating world of blueprints and floor plans,” Nate said snidely. “It’s absolutely riveting stuff.”

Leila pierced him with her eyes, ignoring his sarcasm. “Well, it’s probably loads more interesting than mergers and Excel spreadsheets,” Leila quipped. “I could fall asleep at terms like accounts receivable and accruals. They’re like my own little lullaby.”

Nate scowled at her and turned to his father who had asked him a question.

Snobby prick, Leila thought to herself.

Nathan hadn’t always been so rigid and formal. At some point before going to an Ivy league school, he had been fun to hang out with. Well...when he was around. Then overnight he had turned into someone Leila no longer knew and cared even less for. He’d turned into Harry, his father. Authoritarian, egotistical, shut off to the world. All stiff lines, ledgers, and irritatingly knowledgeable figures.

And Leila wondered why. He didn’t seem to actually enjoy his work and only learned his father’s business for the sole purpose of taking it over when he came of age. It was like Nate had learned the biz for his father, not for himself. It was no wonder he was already burned out on the practice of it.

The Nate Leila had known prior to becoming business savvy had been fun, playful. He enjoyed sports and music and had time to mess around and be free. One or two semesters at college was all it took for him to become a completely different person. One Leila no longer looked up to nor yearned for the way she had the year prior.

Though she still hated his haughty attitude and that ever-present and growing chip on his shoulder, she found herself looking over at him and hoping the chip had at least worn down some. The man was going to have a heart attack at 30 if he kept up his prickly attitude and stiff demeanor.

There was no sign of the Nate he once was when he was younger, and Leila sighed in frustration. London did nothing but build up his icy comportment and further the distance between himself and his family and friends.

>>

After dinner, they all went to the sitting room where drinks were being served. Again, Leila declined any liquor and was starting to count down the minutes she would have to stay at the house before politely advising she needed to leave. She could fake an early and rare Sunday morning meeting if she had to.

T-minus thirty minutes until it would be time for her to make her excuses and leave the “Welcome Home” party. It was close to torture to be in the same room as someone she despised so blatantly. The feeling was mutual, it seemed. They could barely be civil to each other and almost sought the other out to irritate.

For instance, now. Nate had made the rounds of the room, thanking people for coming. He had left Leila for last.

 “I wanted to thank you for coming to this party, though my mother and sister had more to do with that than I did,” Nate said, his tone stilted and forced.

Childish ass.

“Are you at all capable of being civil?” Leila questioned. “I would have thought out of all things you could learn in England, it would be a little civility. The people there seem fretfully polite.”

“Not in London,” he told her. “There are many that can’t stand foreigners. What you see as being polite is merely the Londoners tolerating the tourists and transplants to the city. Hell, they don’t even like those from the country. It’s all about where you come from.”

Leila wondered if that was true or if Nate was once again being contrary. He loved to fight her on any little issue.

“And how do they treat the native northern Californian in Ye Ole London Towne?” she asked.

“Like I should have come straight off the plane on a surfboard and wearing swim trunks.”

“You mean you didn’t?” she asked, arching a brow.

She watched as he rolled his eyes and took a sip of his drink.

“Don’t be an i***t. Of course not.”

“How should I know? It’s not like we’re friends or even close. You could have come off the plane naked and it wouldn’t surprise me.”

“That sounds like something you would be more likely to do, honestly,” Nate remarked. “At least that’s what a few of my friends have said. You seemed to have slept with at least one of them since I’ve been gone, and they gave me the distinct impression that you’re loose.”

Leila’s eyes widened. She didn’t remember f*****g anyone Nate was friendly with. Not that she remembered all of his friends. Of course Nathan had to remind her, looking like he wanted to beam from ear to ear.

“Parker? Don’t you remember him? Brown hair, small scar on his chin from a skateboarding accident when he was younger?” Nate studied her. “Honestly woman how many damned men have you f****d that you can’t remember? He certainly remembers you.”

 “I only remember the memorable ones, perhaps.” Leila’s eyes went from wide to mere slits on her face. She didn’t feel like discussing her love life—or lack thereof—with Nate. It was none of his damn business.

“Or you’ve f****d so many that the recollections of a few of them had to fall out of your head to make more room for the newer conquests,” he said, voice like icicles.

“f**k you, Nate,” Leila bit out at him, glaring daggers. “You brought home plenty of skirt when you were off in college, so don’t you dare judge me.”

“I was serious about all those women,” he rebuffed, frowning.

“Is that why you had a new love interest each time you came home? Or were you so horrible in bed that they dumped you after you f****d them?”

“Says the w***e of Babylon,” Nate ground out.   

“I’m not a w***e,” Leila spat. “I’m...relationship challenged.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that I don’t waste my time on one man if I know off the bat that he and I won’t work,” Leila drawled, irritated.

“Maybe if you gave them more than one night you’d find you were acting too hastily. Or possibly date them before f*****g them. How novel an idea that is, eh?”

“Why does my s*x life interest you so much?” Leila asked. “Is yours so dull that you have to snoop around mine to live vicariously through me, or do you simply enjoy demeaning women for sport? Perhaps that’s why all your ex-girlfriends left you. Or maybe because your d**k’s minuscule compared to your inflated ego.”

 “At least I’m not a gaping crevasse threatening to suck in the population of the Bay Area with the gravitational pull your cavernous p***y maintains. I’m a bit concerned at my proximity to it, to be honest.”

“I’m done with this bullshit.” Leila slammed her drink down on the nearest flat surface before heading toward the door of the sitting room.

Their conversation had been quiet enough for no one to overhear, though the tension between the two should have engulfed the entire room and rendered it silent with its intensity.

“Good, I won’t miss your face during the rest of this idiotic shindig,” Nate told her, not caring if she heard or not as she walked away.

“What the f**k, Nate?” Violet hissed at him. She had noticed the tension between the two and had left Carl in charge of keeping an eye on Mason, who was still fighting sleep to play with the older children.

“What? You know I can’t stand Leila,” he grated out, shrugging his shoulders.

“What the hell did you say to her?” Violet questioned. She was caught between going after her friend and reaming out her older brother.

“Nothing she didn’t already know, Vi.”

Throughout the acidic banter, Leila had been fighting back her emotions. She knew that she’d hated Nate, and their encounter had just confirmed it.

Judgmental, cocky Nate who probably knew nothing about her other than what Violet and his so-called friends must have said about her. She knew Vi would have been on her side, but Lord knew what his friends had told him. Not that she cared.

Or at least that was what she told herself.

I’m not a f*****g w***e, Leila thought as she walked quickly to her car. She had grabbed the keys from the valet on her way out, though what the man or woman looked like she had no clue. By that time her vision had blurred, hot tears threatening to spill over.

Just because she slept with a man and called it a day didn’t mean she was a w***e. She had a healthy s****l appetite, and if she felt the relationship was Splitsville waiting to happen, she cut it off at the pass. Why waste time when he’s “not the one”.

The problem with that argument was that there never was “the one”. They just were. And that’s what had hit home.

Leila didn’t lead people on and doubted that half the men she slept with were after more than a one-off. Only a few had honestly protested when she had told them it was just not going to happen between them. And those men were...well, sweet.

So, she usually kept away from those men as a rule. She hated to see the look on their faces when she told them it was fun but the chemistry just wasn’t there. She couldn’t give a f**k about what snobby Nathan Charles thought about her.

So why was her face wet and her chest hitching with sobs as she drove her car out of the circular driveway at Chez Charles?

Chapter Two 

Whore of Babylon.

Ugh.

Even after two days thinking about what Nate had said, the sting of his words hadn’t faded. In fact, they’d only grown.

It wasn’t her fault that every man she had f****d in however many years had been dull as dishwater. Or bad in bed. Or both. Many had been both.

And why get to know someone when it wasn’t going anywhere? She didn’t want them to know even the smallest bit about her if it was only a matter of time before they were gone. Erased from her life as if they never existed, the only thing left being a soiled condom in the garbage bin in a bathroom.

If those walls could talk, they’d tell stories that would make a nun ruin her knickers.

Still, as Leila sat in her office going over the latest contract bids, she thought back to Saturday night and frowned.

Fuck Nate. Not literally, of course. But f**k his f****d-up attitude, his high and mighty pretentiousness, and especially f**k that overgrown chip on his damn fine shoulder.

No, not fine. He may have been good-looking, but his attitude was enough to make him a horribly ugly beast in Leila’s eyes. Ugly as...as...

Well, she couldn’t think of anything as ugly as what his s**t attitude made him.

“Miss Winters, Carson Cray is on line four when you get the chance,” Jared told her through the irritating speaker she had placed on her desk for him to announce visitors and callers. It had been Jared’s solution to get in touch with her and still be able to answer phones and file at the same time. She should have shot down that proposal before the first syllables slipped past his lips. It startled her every time it went off.

“I said I was not available until 2 PM, Jared,” Leila reminded him.

“I know, but he was insistent,” Jared’s voice said. “Said it was of utmost importance.”

Leila frowned at the speaker and huffed. “Fine,” she said with a sigh. “I’ll speak to him in a few.”

Leila hoped the man would hang up before she got a chance to answer the blinking extension on her landline. In any case, she was going to make him wait. For as long as possible.

Carson used to work for Leila before venturing out on his own. Now he was doing everything he could to outbid her at every turn from any project as small as a new addition to a house to the largest of skyscrapers smattering the Bay Area. And he did it all while flirting with her shamelessly.

The man was an imbecile.

“Carson, what can I do for you?” she asked when she finally answered the line.

“Leila, I was hoping for a big favor from you.” Carson’s voice sounded almost desperate.

Rolling her eyes and thinking, of course, Leila’s lips took on a sneer. “What’s the big favor?” She was merely waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“The builders I had construct my home f****d me over royal and used an unpermitted plumbing company to build the sewer lateral and water pipes running to and from my house,” he told her. The man sounded unlike his usual charming self. “I literally have s**t spewing everywhere!”

Leila bit the insides of her cheeks to keep herself from laughing. So, the little s**t was covered in s**t. How apropos.

“I don’t see how I can help you with that, Car,” she said amiably. “Though I did warn you to stay away from Bud’s company. They cut corners at every pass.”

“I know, I know,” Carson agreed with what sounded like an irritated scoff. “I was hoping that while I am literally homeless, you might be able to rent me a unit in your duplex. Jared told me the last tenant fell through.”

Damn it, Jared. He couldn’t hold water to save his life.

“I have another prospective tenant I need to vet first before I can offer you the abode,” Leila said to him slowly. “I’m assuming you would need it for the duration of the repairs on your place?”

“Yes,” Carson assured her. “I have to pull some permits and hire a new contractor, but if you could be of any help, please let me know. This s**t stinks.”

Oh, I’m sure it does, Carson. Leila snickered silently.

“I’ll keep an eye out for any potential places that open up within your area too, just in case I am unable to accommodate you,” Leila promised him, gritting her teeth. Like hell he was moving into her duplex. Over her dead body. She’d rather invite Anton Lavey, Charles Manson, and Adolf Hitler to move in as flat-mates. Carson was bad f*****g news. And he’d probably use his proximity to her to either seduce her or take down her company.

Fuck. That.

After Leila said her goodbye to a frustrated Carson, she called Jared into her office.

“Lovely lady?” From the look on Jared’s face, the man knew he was in trouble.

“Jared, darling,” she purred with a beatific grin on her face.

“Yes?” His grin looked terrified as he watched her smile even wider at him.

“What have I told you about keeping my personal business just that? Personal?” she asked him in a lilting, saccharine-sweet tone.

“Uhm...”

“Especially to as shady a character as Carson?” she continued.

“Well, he—”

“That little turd wouldn’t have asked me just now to rent out the bottom floor of my duplex had you not opened your yap and spilled the beans about what’s-her-face in Kansas. Or Texas.” Her smile was gone now and her cheeks were the rosy color they always got when her temper was on the rise.

“I felt bad for him, snookums.” Jared tried to placate her, resorting to using one of the many pet names he had for her. “It sounded wretched what he was going through, and I have a soft heart.” He made a motion as if to clasp the shirt over the steadily muscle beating within his chest cavity.

“A heart which I will gladly rip out through your esophagus if you so much as tell that man I have even a hangnail from now on,” she informed him, her eyes slit at her friend and PA. Honestly, this is what you got when you mixed work with friendship.

“Fine, fine,” Jared grumbled, sighing. “My lips are sealed.”

“Good, or I will never tell you a thing about me ever again,” she said, thrusting her hands through her hair in frustration. “Now I want you to call Carson in two days and tell him I am unable to let the place out to rent because I already have a tenant lined up. And put the bottom floor out for rent on Craigslist, Realty.com... whatever the f**k else you can think of. I need to find a new tenant before next month now, thanks to you.”

As Jared left the room, Leila scrubbed her hands over her face and thanked God she wasn’t one to wear a lot of makeup. It would have been utterly ruined by now.

She had more bids than she could handle and now this. Carson Cray and the duplex that was.

Mondays...

>>

“You didn’t,” Parker rebutted as he sat at the bar, frowning at Nate.

“I did,” Nate told him. “And I don’t regret it. She had it coming.”

It was Tuesday afternoon and Nate was sitting in a bar as he caught up with some of his friends. Parker, one of Leila’s previous f***s, being one of them.

“How did she have it coming?” Parker asked. “She’s done nothing to you. If anyone should be pissed, it’s me.”

Nate frowned at his words. What?

“Like you didn’t love the fact that she was only interested in a one-night stand,” Anthony told Parker. His friend just smirked.

“But I was really broken up about it...for all of two seconds,” he said, feigning innocence. “Then I just pulled up my pants and left.”

Anthony and Jim laughed, Jim almost snarfing beer out his nose as Parker spoke. Nate just shook his head as he took an innocent swig of beer.

“Can we talk about something besides my sister’s best friend’s gaping hole of a v****a or who happens to fall into it every other night?” Nate asked, irritated with the current topic of discussion.

“Like you wouldn’t like to fall into it one of these days,” Anthony told him through his barking laughter. “Remember that I know you had a little crushlet on the girl when she was a wee lass of a thing.”

Nate had forgotten he’d told him that. Damn liquor. It was like truth serum on him. And how Anthony remembered that after that one night at that sorority party he’d never know. He must have drunk less than Nate had.

He went to protest, claim insanity due to a few too many Jager-bombs until Parker spoke up.

“What’s this?” Parker asked, tossing the rest of his beer back and waving to the server passing closest to them. This news deserved another round. “Is that why your panties are in a twist? Because you had your chance and she slipped from your grasp? Or is it because I’ve had her and you haven’t yet?”

Nate skewered him with a look. “It was when I was 19 and she was underage,” Nate told him. “I got over it within a couple of months when she started acting like the little brat she was...or is, or—whatever.”

“Could our little Nathan still harbor some feelings little ‘Lay’la?” Jim teased and ordered another beer from the pretty server that Parker had summoned.

“Definitely not,” Nate refuted, his face turning red with anger. Yes, anger.

“Well, she’s not seeing anyone right now.” Nate scoffed at Parker’s words. The girl never ‘saw’ anyone. The girl f****d. Period.

“It would be a miracle if that girl has any walls left to f**k,” Anthony said, to Jim’s glee. The asshole snorted. Actually snorted.

“Anyway, what have you guys been doing?” Nate asked as he tried to change the subject.

The guys let Nate steer them in a different direction, having quenched their thirst for trash-talking him that day. The man had been in another country for years. It was only fair to get in several years’ worth of ribbing—even if they had to spread it out over the next several months.

“Are you coming to Vi’s wedding?” Nate asked Anthony. Out of all his friends, he was the one that Violet had liked the most. She said it was because he was less crass than the others.

“Yes, and I even got a plus one,” he told him.

“Hey, I didn’t get a plus one!” Parker cried out.

“That’s because you can’t bring your right hand as a date,” Jim told him, tipping his glass of beer to him.

“f**k off,” Parker said, irritated.

Nate just sat back and watched the guys bantering back and forth. He had missed this. He had missed this a lot.

>>

The girl sat on the toilet in her bathroom. She had read the instructions front to back, back to front. She had even read them in French instructions on the back side of the paper. It still meant the same when she looked at the stick. Correction—sticks. She had taken many of them. How could she have been so stupid?

No...she wasn’t ready. Not for this, at least. She would simply get rid of it. But first, she had to make an appointment with her physician. They wouldn’t allow her to make the appointment with the clinic unless she had it confirmed. Not that she needed any confirmation. All her confirmation came in the form of...hmmm. She counted. Yes, six different tests. Even if there had been a false positive among them, there was no denying that all of them read the same thing.

Positive.  

Chapter Three 

“Mom?”

“In here, dear.”

Leila walked into the kitchen to see her mother stirring some sort of sauce in a pan. It was white and fragrant and made her mouth water. But it looked too thin, and Leila knew it would be a while until the sauce was thick enough for the noodles.

“Dad home yet?” Leila asked, almost wincing at the question. Her mother sighed, shaking her head slightly.

“No, he had to work late,” her mother told her, an edge to her voice.

Leila knew what that meant. The only “work” he stayed late for was getting under one of the females in the secretary pool’s skirts. Most likely his latest conquest, Veronica Plant, his latest in a long line of PA’s.

Her mouth set, Leila gave her mother a kiss on the cheek before sitting down at the table and placing her purse on the top of it. “Did he say when he’d be here?” Leila’s voice was tight with frustration. Why wouldn’t her mother just leave the philandering fucker already? Leila would have in a heartbeat if she was in her position.

“He said he’d be here when he’d be here,” Mrs. Winters told her daughter and took a moment to stir the thick, flat noodles in the larger pot on the stove.

Though the Winters had enough money to hire help around the house, her mother always insisted she needed no help cleaning house or cooking. Most other wives in their social circle had housekeepers to do these chores, but Leila had a feeling that her mother’s need to do these things herself stemmed from a deeper issue.

Her husband. Who wanted to add another female to the household that her father could possibly find attractive and f**k? He had his other dalliances at work, and her mother was not one to add fuel to a fire.

Angelica Latham had married Stephen Winters at the age of 23, and by the time she was 24, she was pregnant with their only child, Leila. After giving birth, Stephen seemed to find less time for his wife, and Angelica had always wondered if the once flat tummy, now saggy and riddles with stretch-marks, had something to do with his disinterest in her after giving birth. Mrs. Winters had wanted at least two children, but Stephen had gotten snipped on the sly a couple of years after Leila was born. They had almost divorced over that. In hindsight, Leila thought, it probably would have been for the best.

Leila didn’t mind being an only child. For a while she had envied Violet for having an older sibling. That was until the aforementioned older sibling had turned into a downright pain in the ass.

“Well, maybe it’ll be just you and me then tonight,” Leila said, feigning a chipper tone. “It’ll be like a girls night in. We can watch crap reality TV and gossip like teenagers.”

“Or like two old biddies at Bingo Night,” her mother said as she smiled slightly. She was forever making jokes about feeling old and being past her prime. Leila blamed her father for her mother’s downtrodden and self-deprecating demeanor. If the man gave his wife half the attention he gave his secretaries, Angelica wouldn’t have been the quiet, almost submissive creature she was.

Though Leila got her spunk from her father, she did not carry too many of his other traits. In fact, the only other trait was probably their healthy s****l appetites. Whereas Leila’s could be seen as normal, her father’s was nothing short of two-timing and vile.

Ironically enough, her father was the one that always bothered her about settling down. Or at least dating one man for longer than a week or two. Her mother knew her better, though, and knew deep down why Leila didn’t settle down. With a father like Stephen, who would trust any man?

“Did you pick out a dress for the wedding?” Leila established a safe topic for discussion.

“Yes, I did,” her mother told her, a true smile curving her lips finally. “I’ll show you after dinner and maybe we can catch up over a couple glasses of wine.”

Leila didn’t let her smile falter, but it was a close call. Her mother took solace with a few glasses of wine each night, hoping it would blot out the fact that her husband all but ignored her.

“Sure, that sounds nice.”

Horrendous. It sounded horrendous. She hated to see her mother drink away her feelings. It was almost as painful as dealing with her own.

Leila described the bridesmaids’ dresses, which were all the same color, though different in styles. Not surprisingly, they were all purple, Violet’s favorite color.

Since Leila was Violet’s maid of honor, she had a few of her own assignments to deal with, the most pressing being the upcoming bachelorette party. Violet had begged that Leila not go too crazy, and her friend was having a hard time dealing with even that small of a task.

“I mean, what’s the big deal if we go to a strip club?” Leila whined. “It’s not like Carl probably won’t have something similar for his bachelor party. It’s practically a foregone conclusion with Aiden as his best man.”

“I think Aiden will try to keep his wife happy and stick with something a little less risqué,” her mother divulged. “Constance might never let that man touch her again if he gets strippers and such.”

“We could just combine the two parties and have the groom and groomsmen be the strippers,” Leila said, smirking a little bit. “I don’t think any of the women would mind that.”

“It might turn into an orgy if you do that,” Angelica said, winking at her daughter.

“Ew, Mom!” The word orgy should never leave a mother’s mouth, Leila thought. Now that it had, Leila was pretty sure she was scarred for life.

“Oh, come on,” the older woman said with a scoff. “With the likes of Aiden, Ramon, and that brother of Carl’s, you know the odds are in favor of s****l deviance.”

Though Leila silently agreed, it still bothered her. Mathilde and her own mother would be there, and she couldn’t imagine her ogling the groom. Or the married groomsmen.  Since Carl wasn’t close to Stephen Winters, he would not be invited to the stag party, though he might try to con his way into getting an invite, knowing him.

“You’re just afraid to stare at half-naked men in front of your old mom,” Angelica told her wisely. “Though I wouldn’t mind one bit.”

The topic was throwing Leila off. What had sounded like a splendid idea was turning into a horror show of epic proportions.

“I’m thinking maybe we could do something else then,” Leila replied, warily. “I’m not all that keen on watching my mother lick the abs of a baby-oiled stud in only a speedo and a smile.”

“You’re no damned fun!” her mother bit out, smiling. “Why do all you young ladies get to have all the fun? The only time I ever see your father’s chest is when he’s changing, and it’s not as pretty a sight as it used to be.”

Though Leila’s father wasn’t as well-defined as the other men she knew in the muscles department, he was not flabby either. Still, this conversation had gone from bad to worse. She didn’t want to think of her father in the same train of thought as male strippers.

“I don’t need to hear about your s*x life—or lack thereof, thank you very much,” Leila told he mother, wincing. This was so awkward.

Leila and Angelica were honest with each other to a fault, though they had their boundaries. This conversation was skirting the line, and Leila wanted back on solid ground. Pronto.

“Taste this sauce and see if you think it’s ready.”

Though her mother liked to complain about cooking, Leila knew it was one of her few true passions. When she had stopped working over twenty years ago, Mrs. Winters had taken to watching the cooking channel during her days instead of the soap operas many women indulged in. She had become quite an accomplished cook in that time, though her favorite things to make were always the meals that her daughter and husband liked best. Like chicken fettuccine alfredo and lasagna. The Winters may have had money, but their culinary tastes were quite simple.

“Too runny,” Leila told her. She knew how the alfredo sauce should taste just as well as her mother and wasn’t afraid to stick her oar in when it came to seasoning and such. Leila had learned a lot about cooking from her mother, after all.

As they chatted in the kitchen, Leila’s mind began to wander. It had been over a week since Nate’s Coming Home party, and she had yet to speak with Violet about it. Leila had almost been as irritated with her best friend as with Nate. Violet always wanted to include her in her family activities even when Leila was uncomfortable doing so. She had a good mind to yell at her for making her have to endure a night with the prodigal son with the venomous tongue.

“Leila!”

Leila’s head snapped to her mother’s and she was jolted from her thoughts. She honestly didn’t understand why she was bothering to dwell on Nate’s hurtful words, but she did. They gnawed at her mind until she was doubting herself and her way of life.

“Sorry, just thinking something about work,” Leila told her mother, forcing a small smile on her face with some difficulty.

“Geez, girl. I thought you had gone deaf I called you so many times.”

“Nope, still not deaf. Dumb maybe, but not deaf.”

“You are a smart and gorgeous girl.” Angelica smiled at her daughter and gave her a small kiss on the temple before going back to stirring the sauce.

Leila knew she’d meant every word.

>>

“What the f**k, Nate?” Violet bit out at her brother. “Why would you say some s**t like that?”

Anthony couldn’t hold water, the bastard. He had come over to Chez Charles and had been chatting with Nate when Violet had come over to listen to what they were talking about. Her best friend’s name had caught her attention, and being the good BFF that she was, she had to eavesdrop in on their conversation. She had heard Anthony and Nate describing the little battle that Nate had had with Leila at the dinner welcoming him home.

“Please—that woman has nerves of steel,” he argued back. “She probably didn’t even think twice about what I said.” Not that he meant the words. They had actually come out completely unbidden, before he could even think of what was spewing from his mouth.

For someone usually so cautious, Leila seemed to bring out the worst in him. She always had.

“You’re an asshole,” Violet stated, eyes narrowing on her brother. “You would think you’d have better sense than to be such a d**k to my best friend.”

“And you would think that you’d have better sense than to be best friends with...with someone like her.”

“She’s caring and generous, and you’re too f*****g stupid to realize that,” Violet told him. “You two may not get along, but that doesn’t mean she talks badly about you behind your back. She hasn’t even mentioned a word of what you said to her to me. But you’re here gabbing away with Tony like a bunch of f*****g teens jocks in a locker room.”

Nate’s jaw twitched as he tried to think of a good comeback. “It was water off a duck’s back,” Nate objected finally. “Didn’t even bother her.”

“Says you,” Violet spat out, voice gritty with irritation. “And you know nothing about why she is the way she is. Don’t judge what you don’t know.”

“There’s never a good reason to sleep around the way she does,” Nate said, adamant.

“Again—says you,” she threw at him before started to stalk off. If she didn’t leave now, she knew she’d end up with her knuckles buried in Nate’s jaw.

Nate was surprised to see the hurt look on his sister’s face. It was usually reserved for bouts of utter frustration, and he couldn’t help himself when he called out to her.

“Enlighten me, Vi,” he told her. “What’s a good reason to see men as mere objects, tissues to be disposed of once you’ve use them up.”

“As if you deserve to know,” she tossed back at him, her stride not faltering as she walked away.

Looking back at Anthony, the other man shrugged his shoulders. Anthony knew the Winters, but he couldn’t say he knew them all that well. Their parents moved within the same circles, but only just.

Still, it was irritating that Violet wouldn’t spill whatever it was she was hiding about Leila. Maybe if he had known more, he wouldn’t have been so quick to be judge and jury.

Or maybe just being an asshole was something he thrived at.

>>

Leila walked into the bar a little after happy hour had ended. She usually hated the brand of man that happy hour brought in. Cheap, cheesy, and looking for a quick f**k. Emphasis on the quick. They were usually two-pump chumps.

She almost wished Jared was with her. He made a great wing-”woman”, as he was so flamboyant after a couple of drinks, people would watch their interactions with amused expressions.

“Manhattan, no fruit,” she told the bartender when the man came up to her. She hated the little girly cherry that so many places popped in the middle of their cocktails.

After the young server had come back with her drink, Leila paid the man and tipped him before heading off toward the only open table in the darkest part of the establishment.

She pulled her phone out of her bag and started to flip through her social media while sipping the drink. Ugh, it was weak and vile, and she wondered if the bartender owned the place. Anything to save a bit of money.

There was a shuffling off to her left when the other chair at the table was knocked from its place into her knee. The glare aimed at the back of the head of some black-haired gentlemen must have been felt, because the man quickly turned around.

“My apologies, miss,” he told her politely.

“No sweat,” Leila told him with a brief smile. Clumsy oaf.

“Is anyone using this chair?” he asked.

Leila kept her eyes on her phone and waved at the chair so that he could steal it from the table.

On i********:, she saw that Violet had posted a new photo and smiled. Mason seemed to be growing teeth left, right, and center. Or at least the 42 photos she had taken of the offending bit of bone would have one thinking so.

A throat cleared, and Leila looked up. The man who had tumbled into the chair had not taken it away but had decided to sit in it and was now watching her look through her phone.

“I thought you needed the chair,” she remarked, taking a sip of her drink. Still disgusting, and she grimaced.

“Jerry mixes horrible cocktails,” the man told her. Leila blinked.

“Jerry?”

“The bartender there,” he said pointing to the man behind the bar who had served Leila her revolting Manhattan. “Waters them down so people have to spend more. Give the drink to me.”

Leila thought about that and finally pushed the glass toward him, offering a one-shouldered shrug. He could have it if he wanted it that badly.

Instead, the man stood up and walked over to the bar and beckoned “Jerry” over with a finger.

Glancing over at Leila, Jerry took the glass tumbler from the man and emptied it out before making another drink, adding a cherry on top as his own little piece of petty revenge.

Leila watched the whole thing go down and saw the black-haired gentleman saunter back over to her table with the fresh drink.

Handing it over with a smile to Leila, she didn’t flinch from his gaze on her as she took a small sip. This time, it was delicious. How it should have been made in the first place. Unwatered down, the right amount of whiskey, vermouth, and bitters.

“What’s your name?” she asked him as she placed the drink down onto a napkin.

“Jason,” he told her, smiling brightly. She smiled back, but with none of the warmth his grin had.

“Well listen, Jason,” she started to say and moved in closer to him to speak. “You and Jerry have a nice little thing going on here, don’t you?”

“Pardon?” Jason’s eyes widened, and Leila smiled even wider.

“If you and he have some kind of deal going on trying to pick up women, you should probably at least use his real name,” she informed him.

“How did you—” He looked perplexed, a complete deer-in-the-headlights moment for him.

“Name tag,” Leila cut him off. “He had a nametag on when I went up there to get my first drink, so unless Jerry has an alias by the name of Kyle, you should probably go over your methods of seduction before trying this again.”

Jason’s mouth gaped, but he had the grace to blush a bit. He closed and opened his mouth before finally chuckling and speaking.

“He wasn’t supposed to wear the nametag tonight,” Jason offered sheepishly.

“You need a better wingman,” Leila told him, smirking. “Besides, many women don’t need the little bit of dinner theater you two have going to be wooed into bed.”

“Is that you telling me that you would have slept with me even if I didn’t make sure your drink was palatable?” he asked with a slow blink.

“Possibly,” she stated. “Or maybe it’s my way of saying that you should be honest in your intentions instead of coming up with idiotic little ploys to have a one-night stand.”

“How do you know it would be a one-night stand?” he asked boldly. “Perhaps it would be so good that you’d want more.”

“Or perhaps you would be the one begging for more.” Leila smiled at him. “Not all women are what you think, Jason. Some want the one-night stand just as much as men do.”

Jason’s surprise was apparent. His eyelids flickered and jaw became slack before shutting sharply with a click of bone. His lips curved up on one side.

“You might just be a woman in a million,” he told her as his smile widened like the s****l predator he was.

“Leila. My name is Leila,” she informed him. “You might want to remember it after tonight.”

Jason’s smile widened to a full-on, megawatt grin.

This book is now available on sss in e-book, paperback and free to read if you have k****e Unlimited! It is also available on my p*****n page in the unedited version!

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/RKKnightlybooks

Provocation:

Ebook:

US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08JP2V3XJ

UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B08JP2V3XJ

Germany: https://www.amazon.de/dp/B08JP2V3XJ

France: https://www.amazon.fr/dp/B08JP2V3XJ

Spain: https://www.amazon.es/dp/B08JP2V3XJ

Italy: https://www.amazon.it/dp/B08JP2V3XJ

Netherlands: https://www.amazon.nl/dp/B08JP2V3XJ

Japan: https://www.amazon.co.jp/dp/B08JP2V3XJ

Brazil: https://www.amazon.com.br/dp/B08JP2V3XJ

Canada: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B08JP2V3XJ

Mexico: https://www.amazon.com.mx/dp/B08JP2V3XJ

Australia: https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B08JP2V3XJ

India: https://www.amazon.in/dp/B08JP2V3XJ

Paperback:

US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08JLHQGZ5

UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B08JLHQGZ5

Germany: https://www.amazon.de/dp/B08JLHQGZ5

Spain: https://www.amazon.es/dp/B08JLHQGZ5

France: https://www.amazon.fr/dp/B08JLHQGZ5

Italy: https://www.amazon.it/dp/B08JLHQGZ5

Japan: https://www.amazon.co.jp/dp/B08JLHQGZ5

Canada: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B08JLHQGZ5