THE CON (Manhattan Nights #8)

Chapter 1-1

CHAPTER 1

SEATTLE, WASHINGTONJACOB

I knew I shouldn't have started drinking liquor here tonight.

In fact, I'm not sure I should be here at all.

This last time I drank actual liquor, the next morning I woke up, hungover and with a woman's naked body in my bed.

Drinking liquor equals trouble for me. But tonight, I guess I just don't give a damn.

Alcohol is the only thing keeping me sane right now before I head to New York. And I'm holding onto it like my fellow Londoners hold onto a pint of bitter.

Standing there in my best friend's brand s******g new home, I sip from my glass of whatever liquid is being called tequila these days.

Turns out when one of your best friends is hosting a housewarming, on the other side of the globe no less, the only thing in the world that seems to make sense is to drink yourself into oblivion...and attend.

Not because of the booze, the greasy American food, or even his amazing downtown Seattle views. But because that's what friends do. You show up.

You smile. You play the board games. The Monopoly. The Scrabble. You get through the night without making matters worse.

But not before you pretend everything is fine...

And you shouldn’t be on the verge of confessing that it's really hard—like, using-the-letter-q-in-Scrabble kind of hard—to pretend that all is okay. Especially when you know in the deepest, darkest parts of your soul that things are anything but okay. And there's no way in hell to fix it.

When the perfect marriage you thought your parents had was apparently a lie.

Or when your mother doesn't respect you even after you discover documents proving she's been cheating on your father your whole life.

Letting total strangers in--the offspring of a family you didn't even know you had until recently?

Well, that's bad enough. But, despite the sour-tasting tequila in my mouth, I can't stop feeling as if my life is about to get even worse.

Deep inside of me, something is still churning away.

And it doesn't help when a certain brunette walks into the room.

My best friend Lachlan’s living room feels like chaos. A blur of happy strangers, faces I don't recognize, and old friends who have no idea what the hell is going on with my life.

And there she is. Sophie Santellini.

All smiles. In tall heels, a short skirt, and a body that makes you want to do anything she asks.

My eyes are drawn to that body in an instant. I can't help it.

She sees me, too. I know it. And she looks at me the same way, like she's seeing something that no one else has noticed about me.

And it's killing me...

Glass in hand, I push away from the table where I've been playing a far too serious game of Scrabble with Jeremy Martinez, another of Lachlan and his girlfriend Sabrina's housewarming guests.

Jeremy has been keeping me and my glass of tequila company as my best friend Lachlan, the host of this shindig, tries his best to entertain.

But as I head towards the bar cart on the other side of the living room, my mind starts to spin its wheels in a way that definitely shouldn't be happening after all the liquor I've been drinking.

A flashback of my recent hungover transgressions is suddenly slamming into my consciousness.

Of naked bodies and stolen kisses.

Of filthy words spoken in the dark.

And suddenly, the blonde neighbor in my memory is a brunette. The same brunette who's been walking around my head since the party began.

My eyes linger on a tall, skinny bottle of tequila in the bottom of the cart, as if it's calling out to me.

Knowing better, I grab for it anyway, preparing to pour more when Lachlan walks right up to me, swinging his arm around my shoulder.

He sighs. "How you holding up, Champ? You okay...I mean, considering everything that's going on?"

I cradle the drink in my palm. "Yeah...I'm good. As good as I thought I would be, anyway. I'm just trying to relax a bit before I leave. Though, I'm less 'relaxed' than I am 'drunk.' "

Mental note: don't start drinking alone again until you get over yourself.

I take a seat next to Jeremy, who has just finished nuking the Scrabble board he's been playing.

"And you? This is quite the turn of events for you. Quite the party. Quite the housewarming..."

Lachlan's new Victorian-style home is massive and beautiful. The perfect place for the guy who hasn't had much perfection in his life since we were both broke college students.

"You know what they say," he shrugs, glancing around. "You can't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs. This party is me breaking some eggs. I just wanted to make sure you were all right to hang around."

I smile, feeling the ball in my throat again. "I'm not going to slit my wrists, if that's what you're thinking." I tip the tequila, taking another drink. "Or drown myself in booze. God knows I've done enough of that."

"Well good..."

I hold on to his gaze. "Marriages break up, Lach. Charles and Diana. Angelina and Brad. My parents'. Why wouldn't I expect my own to break up? It's not like Jessica and I were the start of some new generation of perfect, happily-ever-after."

"Sure. But, um, separation and divorce are two separate things. And now that your divorce papers are officially signed..."

"I can finally stop feeling any guilt for acting like a single man." I shake my head at Jeremy who motions for another Scrabble round. "In fact, I've decided to take on a vow of celibacy." I chuckle, taking another swig of my drink. "I'm giving up on women for good. I'm going to live vicariously through Lewis...who seems to be screwing enough women to satisfy three men."

Lachlan laughs. "Yeah, your older brother Lew is certainly a busy guy. But you're the one who just got out of a marriage--"

"The marriage I barely escaped." I glare at him, but he's right. "Thinking I should find a new hobby. Maybe a nice, relaxing activity like knitting. Or painting. Come to think of it, I need a hobby that doesn't involve women. I have trouble keeping them as it is. Anyway, I've had enough."

I turn back to pour another drink when I see the dark waves of hair again—no doubt belonging to Sophie.

My stomach churns as I avert my gaze, my fingers gripping the glass a tad too hard. "I'm not interested in playing that whole dating scene anymore," I continue. "I'm voluntarily benching myself from the game. And I'm not taking calls from the batter's box, either."

"Good for you. Comparing baseball and s*x. Sounds like the ramblings of a very healthy man. If you weren’t a psychologist, I might tell you that you need one.”

I shoot Lachlan a look. “Alright, granted, I’m not as good at the American baseball metaphors as you Yanks ..but I'm serious about this. My family is in a fight that I can't even talk about to anyone. Revealing a bastard kid is not ‘good for the billionaire family image’ right now, I guess. So I'm letting go of this whole 'woman' thing."

"Wow. You? Letting go of the dating women game? I didn't know you played." He chuckles at his own sarcasm, taking a sip of his drink. "That's good. You should be careful about these drinks, though. They're danger in a bottle. Or in your case, a glass."

I nod, thinking that the real danger is probably on the other side of the room.

I notice a pair of green eyes staring back at me from the corner.

Sophie tucks a loose hair behind her ear, then glances away.

"Okay..." Lachlan smiles, his gaze lingering in the same direction. "I just had to make sure you were okay, that's all. Wouldn't want you putting your, uh, 'baseball bat' somewhere where it doesn't belong."

"No worries." I smile, but my gaze strays to Sophie again.

A lump forms in my throat as her glance meets mine, and for a moment, my heart stops beating.

Then she turns away, raking a hand through her hair as if she has no idea I'm even looking at her.

"If you're sure..." Lachlan sighs.

I swallow thickly, then slowly turn back to Lachlan.

"My God," he says, grinning like an i***t, "you're about as see-through as a ghost with no underwear on."

“Wait, what? What the hell are you banging on about, Lach?"

"Oh, nothing. Just the fact that you haven't been able to keep your eyes off Sabrina's best friend Sophie since the second you two walked in the house together."

I raise my glass, gesturing. "Correction: We did not walk into the house together. It was a coincidence that we showed up at the same time. Back in NYC, when I've actually had the chance to talk to your girlfriend's best friend, the woman's been icier than a tomb in Antarctica. I got the distinct impression that she thinks I'm the anti-Christ."

"Oh, come on now. You two were all smiles in your little introduction...and she's really pretty."

"She is pretty," I agree. "She's also a girl who thinks she's some sort of celebrity because she’s with a TV star.Sabrina mentioned she was seeing a friend of hers on some reality show. This tattoo artist. Brett something or other. That's not a reason to put her up on the pedestal she seems to be perched on now." I shake my head. "I'm not going to apologize for some missed connection, Lachlan. If a woman doesn't make an effort to talk to me, I'm not going to make an effort to see if she's interested in me. End of story."

"If you say so..." He grins, looking at me. “It’s been a year or so since she and Sabrina got really close. But, to be honest, I haven’t had a chance to get to know her all that well. I mean, she seems nice. Nice-ish." He shrugs. "I think you may have misjudged her...and hey," he raises his glass, "how about all the women who are going to want you now that you're so loaded? Finding out your biological father is a big-wig New York billionaire? Once you claim you're going to be the most sought after bachelor in town."

"Well, I'm not exactly loaded. My piece of the pie of this so-called inheritance might not be more than a few hundred thousand pounds...and that's if my father's children don't pocket the rest. I have no idea what to expect."

"I do," Lachlan says. "You're going to have your pick of the litter. And as far as litters go," he snorts lightly, looking over his shoulder at Sophie, who's saddled up beside his girlfriend Sabrina, "we are talking about a particularly fine thoroughbred here. She's a wild one, though. You might want to be careful. Sophie's not to be messed around with. Hear the woman's got a rap sheet as long as my arm."

I stare at him. "A rap sheet? No kidding."

"See? Nice girl. Say what you will about her, but she's definitely got a bad-ass chick thing going for her." He chuckles, shrugging his shoulders. "She was actually once a pretty recognizable fashion model back in NYC. But apparently, cocaine use and dabbling in fraud put a damper on her career." He pours himself a drink. "Couple credit card scams. Impersonation stuff. Some jewelry swindle. Apparently, she was conning some old guys of their retirement money, then using the proceeds to buy all kinds of high-end designer stuff like shoes and fur coats."

"Jesus. I didn't know that. Did she go to jail?"

"No. That's the thing. She walked away with a couple of years probation in exchange for her help prosecuting the rest of the people she'd been running with. Plus, she had a restraining order placed on her. The NYPD said her remorse was genuine."

"Ah. Okay. Well, thank you...for the lowdown on Bonnie Parker over there. I think I'll keep my distance from her for the night. I'm not exactly trying be a Clyde right now."

"Hey, you never know. Stranger things have happened." He holds the bottle of tequila up. "You want another shot? The night's still young. And with all the surprises you've had today, you can do with it."