Heartless Havoc : A Hero Club Novel

by J. L. Leslie

  Heartless Havoc

  J.L. Leslie

  Copyright 2020. J.L. Leslie. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes, promotions, authorized giveaways or teasers only.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  I want to first of all dedicate this book to my mom, like I do all of my books. She is who always supported me in my writing, and I dedicate all of my words to her. I miss her each and every day!

  A special thanks to my husband and kids for allowing me to go into my writing cave and also for their love and support! Also, to my sister for listening to my ideas and never complaining! You’re the best! I love you all!

  A special thanks to my PA, Amber Feist, for being my friend and sounding board! For always helping me find the perfect cover and for reading my words!

  To my fan group, J.L. Leslie’s Lovelies, for being the best fan group an author could ever ask for! Thank you!

  To my street team, J.L. Leslie’s Pimpin’ Peeps, you are the most amazing street team! Thank you for always sharing my work!

  To my ARC team, thank you so much for reading my words! It amazes me each day that people take the time to read what I write and sometimes actually enjoy it!

  A very special thank you to my beta readers! I so enjoy your feedback and comments! You make this journey so much easier for me! Thank you!

  Last, but not least, a special thanks to the Cocky Hero World, Vi Keeland and Penelope Ward, and all who participated! I truly am honored for being allowed to take part in this amazing adventure! You are all so wonderfully talented and I appreciate being part of this world with each of you!

  Contents

  Special Thanks

  Glossary

  1. Frankie

  2. Havoc

  3. Frankie

  4. Havoc

  5. Frankie

  6. Havoc

  7. Frankie

  8. Havoc

  9. Frankie

  10. Havoc

  11. Frankie

  12. Havoc

  13. Frankie

  14. Havoc

  15. Frankie

  16. Havoc

  17. Frankie

  18. Havoc

  19. Frankie

  20. Havoc

  21. Frankie

  22. Havoc

  23. Frankie

  24. Havoc

  25. Frankie

  26. Havoc

  27. Frankie

  28. Havoc

  29. Frankie

  30. Havoc

  31. Frankie

  32. Havoc

  33. Frankie

  34. Havoc

  35. Frankie

  36. Havoc

  37. Frankie

  38. Havoc

  39. Frankie

  40. Havoc

  41. Frankie

  42. Havoc

  43. Frankie

  44. Havoc

  45. Frankie

  46. Havoc

  47. Frankie

  48. Havoc

  49. Frankie

  50. Havoc

  51. Frankie

  52. Havoc

  53. Frankie

  54. Havoc

  55. Frankie

  Epilogue

  Havoc

  Want More of the Cocky Hero World?

  Thank you for reading!

  Special Thanks

  I want to send a special thanks to my editor Susie Poole with Poole Publishing Services, LLC.

  My proofreaders, Chantal Baxendale.

  My beta readers Amber Feist, Morgan Terry, and Joanna Edger.

  Thank you all so much for polishing my words and providing me with honest feedback, which is exactly what I need!

  Glossary

  Italian Translation:

  La mia fiamma - My Flame

  É amore - It's love

  Nienté - Nothing

  Madre - Mother

  Cagna - Bitch

  Amiches - friends

  Cazzate - Bullshit

  Nipote - Nephew

  Zio - Uncle

  Amore - Love

  Fuck - Fanculo

  Fretta - Hurry

  Per favore - Please

  Lodare Dio - Praise God.

  Non toccarmi - Do not touch me.

  Diavolo lo faró - The hell I will.

  Non mi sposo - I am not getting married.

  Miserabile - Miserable.

  Ho bisogno di sentirti urlare di nuovo li mio nome - I need to hear you scream my name again.

  One

  Frankie

  I stare at my reflection in the mirror, mentally giving myself a pep talk. I’m not certain it’s working, but hey, it’s worth a try. Tonight is a huge night for me. I promised myself I wouldn’t stress, but that’s impossible when there’s a room full of important people with important opinions getting ready to eat the food I prepared.

  I started my own catering company with my sister two years ago and we have busted our asses to make it a success. Catering an engagement party for Holman Havoc is exactly what we need to build our premium clientele.

  Everyone in the state of New York knows who Holman Havoc is. The man bleeds money. Supposedly, he buys failing companies and either invests in them or sells them for a profit. Sort of reminds me of Richard Gere’s character in Pretty Woman except from what I hear, Holman Havoc doesn’t secretly have any redeeming qualities.

  His company is one of the most successful in the state, but rumor has it that he’s miffed about a business deal gone bad. Apparently, he had his sights set on purchasing a company and it fell through. Why not spending millions of dollars is a bad thing is beyond me.

  I personally didn’t read all the details in the article. Perhaps he’s one of those people who believe you have to spend money to make money. I simply wanted to know who I was dealing with. All I know is that Holman and his son are always on the prowl for another business to invest in or purchase. I know F&C’s Catering wouldn’t mind an angel company tossing some money our way.

  “Your food is phenomenal,” I say aloud, nodding at myself in the mirror so that I can stop daydreaming about receiving a sudden windfall of money when I know that will never happen. “Tonight is going to be unforgettable.”

  I reach down to turn the water on to wash my hands and shriek when the knob breaks and water sprays all over my clothes. I frantically try to put the knob back on the spraying water, anything to make it stop, but to no avail.

  Gathering my wits, I drop to my knees and find the valve to turn the water off. My heart is pounding in my chest, and I can’t believe that just happened to me. I stare down at my soaked clothes, knowing I have no time to dry them. The blouse may have come from the thrift store, but it looked brand new.

  I rise to my feet, glancing at myself in the mirror again. My mascara is running, and my hair is already turning into a frizzy mess. I clean my face first, washing off all traces of mascara and basically all of the makeup I spent forty-five minutes applying while watching a YouTube tutorial from a seventeen-year-old boy who is prettier than I can ever dream of being.

  Once my face is clean, I peek my head out of the bathroom and then hightail it downstairs to the kitchen. I don’t miss the gawking looks I receive from my servers.

  “Ms. Conn, you’re drenched!” Erin, one of our part-time staff says.

  “I’m aware,” I deadpan. “Listen, I need you to run out to the delivery truck and get me a uniform shirt. Bring it to the bathroom please, upstairs, f
irst door on the left.”

  While she goes to get me a dry shirt, I slip back toward the bathroom. I cringe when I see a sign on the door that the bathroom is out of order. Either I missed it earlier or the staff here is quick.

  “I got it!” Erin informs me, rushing down the hallway.

  “Do you happen to have a ponytail holder?” I ask her as I take the dry shirt from her hands.

  “No, ma’am,” she replies. “Sorry.”

  “It’s all right, I’ll figure something out,” I say. “Go ahead and get out there. The first trays should be going out right now.”

  Knowing I can’t go back in the bathroom at the moment, I decide to find an empty room to change in. I go to the next door, turning the knob and I’m relieved when it opens. I step inside and close the door behind me, surveying the room I just walked into.

  I was expecting a bedroom since I’m on the second floor of the Havoc estate, but instead it’s an office. A large mahogany desk sits in the center of the room, but no chairs are seated in front of it, which I find a little odd. There is a wall-to-wall bookcase, though.

  Telling myself it’s none of my business and not to snoop, I quickly change out of my wet top and into the dry one Erin brought me. My skirt is still a touch damp, but I can manage. I brush my hair off my shoulder and make a face when I realize it probably looks ten times worse than it did in the bathroom now that it’s drying.

  I walk over to the desk and look for a rubber band or hell, at this point, I’d settle for a binder clip. I pull open the middle drawer and breathe out a sigh of relief when I spot one lone rubber band in the tray among the staples and paper clips. I grab it and twist my hair into a bun, securing it with the rubber band.

  I close the drawer and smooth my hands over the white, button down shirt. I look like a server now. Great. Just great.

  I tell myself the fact that I look like a server doesn’t matter. What matters is whether or not they love the food. They will absolutely love it.

  I turn to leave, and since the planet is screwing with me today, my foot stubs against the chair leg and I crash down to my knees on the floor.

  “Seriously?” I mutter to myself and prepare to pull myself up when I hear the door opening.

  In a panic, I crawl underneath the desk. Once there, I scold myself on how damn ridiculous I’m behaving. I have a legitimate reason for coming into this room. Why am I behaving like I’m some thief?

  Okay, I did steal the rubber band.

  “If you think I’m negotiating on the prenup, you’re wasting your time,” a deep, male voice says. “I’m in no mood for your fucking games tonight.”

  “You like when I play games,” a female replies.

  “And if I make this happen?” he asks.

  “I’ll be a good girl.”

  I know I should reveal myself, let them know they are not in here alone, but I can’t bring myself to move from beneath the desk.

  Even when I hear the telltale sign of a zipper.

  Even when I hear the desk creak above me.

  Even when I hear the woman moaning in ecstasy.

  Holy mother of God! What have I gotten myself into?

  Two

  Havoc

  As I shake the hand of Graham Morgan, I’m unable to hide my resentment from him. I’m well aware that he notices, but he doesn’t address it. My issue with Graham isn’t personal, it’s business.

  His former business partner, Liam Gainesworth, died in a car accident, leaving his company vulnerable. My father’s company, HLS, had its sights on purchasing it, figuring it would be an easy takeover and since the business wasn’t exactly suffering, there wouldn’t be much work for us to do. We’d shell out a few million dollars and gain a lucrative business. We weren’t the only ones, but after meeting with Liam’s late wife, Genevieve, we felt confident the deal was going to go our way.

  Turns out, she was in cahoots with Graham and he made the purchase instead, effectively shutting us out of the deal. To say we’re bitter is an understatement. My father inviting him here tonight is his way of telling Graham he keeps his enemies close.

  “I assume congratulations are in order,” Graham says, and I furrow my brow at him. “At your engagement. This is your engagement party, correct?”

  “Yes, I suppose it is,” I answer, still annoyed my father decided to throw this ridiculous party to announce it to all of New York. Everyone already knows. We’ve been engaged for months now. Anneliese has a damn team sharing it daily on her social media platforms ― and mine, for that matter.

  “Where’s the bride-to-be?” he asks, and I glance around the room for Anneliese.

  I spotted her heading upstairs to my office earlier. She hasn’t returned yet, not that I miss her. She’s a fucking thorn in my side and if I never lay eyes on her again, it’ll be too soon.

  “I’m sure she’s around here vying for someone’s attention,” I reply dryly.

  “The food is fantastic,” Graham’s wife, Soraya, comments. “Who’s the caterer?”

  “I’m not certain. We have assistants who handle the minuscule tasks like hiring caterers.”

  I sound like a damn snob, glancing down at the blue tips of her hair. She’s a far cry from Graham’s ex. Before Genevieve Gainesworth was married to Liam, she was involved with Graham. The two of them were not only business partners, but best friends.

  Turns out, she was cheating on Graham with Liam. She married Liam, had a daughter, and Graham cut ties with the two of them until Liam’s untimely death. That’s when he realized the kid was his all along. The scandal was almost enough to soften the blow of the deal falling through.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” I say, shaking his hand before stepping away.

  I refuse to stand there and act chummy with him or his eccentric wife. We aren’t friends, barely even associates. We merely do the same type of work, and therefore run in the same circles. I would never have invited him here. Fuck, I never would’ve thrown this damn ridiculous party.

  I put some distance between me and everyone else in the room, standing on the outside of the crowd so I can watch those that are mingling. I grab a glass of champagne from one of the servers and my curiosity gets the better of me.

  “What company do you work for?” I ask the young blonde.

  “F&C’s Catering,” she answers proudly. “Are you enjoying the food?”

  “I hear it’s phenomenal,” I reply curtly.

  The blonde beams a smile at me, obviously happy to hear that. She stands there a moment more, but when I don’t engage in conversation with her, she leaves. I watch her carry her tray of champagne to other patrons, each of them taking a glass before dismissing her much the same as I did. The only people who engage with her are Graham and Soraya.

  It’s clear they’re speaking to the server about the food because the girl flashes the same beaming smile. Unsure why I’m interested, I watch as the three of them talk and the server waves another over.

  The redhead she calls over gives Graham and Soraya a polite smile, carrying on a conversation with them even after the blonde leaves. So, not only did Graham swipe Liam’s company out from under us, now he wants the catering company, too. What a prick.

  “You’re snarling, sweetheart. Put a smile on your face. It is our engagement party, after all.”

  “Cazzate,” I mutter.

  “I hate when you do that.”

  I cut my eyes to Anneliese Deviline, my bride-to-be. I would be lying if I didn’t admit she looks stunning tonight. The dress she’s wearing may fit every curve, accentuate all of her voluptuous assets, but I know exactly how ugly she can be beneath all that beauty. The awful thing is, I’m far uglier than she is.

  I ask myself again why I’m engaged to this woman. She’s manipulative, cold, and an outright bitch. Why in the fuck did I agree to marry her?

  Because it’s what my father wants me to do. A Deviline/Havoc union is a financial opportunity for HLS, and I can’t deny the personal gain it brings to me. I
won’t be under his thumb anymore.

  Anneliese’s father is dying, and he wants a man to run his company. That man is me. Our engagement is a business transaction, just like everything else in my life. It’s not like it’s a damn secret. She knows I don’t love her, but she tries to make me bend to her will, plays these childish games with me, and I continue to use her without ever letting her get close.

  In some ways, we’re exactly alike. Neither of us has a heart. This is all a sick fucking game to us both. I will go through the proper motions because it’s necessary. This is how the game must be played. Only I’m tired of being the star player.

  “Server,” Anneliese calls, snapping her fingers.

  The redhead who was talking to Graham and Soraya approaches us, tray in hand, although I notice she isn’t holding it up on display like the other servers. Her uniform is slightly different, with her wearing a sleek, black pencil skirt rather than the black trousers. She’s also in heels. I assume she’s the head server, if there is such a thing.