Things got even more insane when the MegaLotto office called U.S. Capital Bank where my mom worked. They didn’t call her branch. They called the corporate offices in some New York skyscraper to set up a special account for me. It was an interest bearing savings account that would yield 2% annually. They said it was a no-risk account and fully insured. I hadn’t done a thing and already I would be earning $10 million a year on top of the initial $500 million I’d won outright.
Technically, five hundred was the effective amount I’d have left after withholdings and setting aside a chunk for taxes in a separate account. I was advised to do so by Antonio, his staff, and the bank staff. They were being surprisingly helpful and very professional.
I was not. I was giddy the whole time, and shrugged a laugh when it finally registered that, of the full amount transferred into my accounts (over $750 million), I would only ever see $500 million. Unless you counted the additional $2 million I would earn in interest from that extra $250 million set aside for taxes. That’s right, between now and December 31st, it would sit in my account earning me money. Taxable of course, but the bulk of those interest earnings would be mine. Not that I needed more money, but I wasn’t saying no.
Woe is me, right?
I joked to Brooke, “I’ll gladly let the IRS pay me $2 million to hold their money for five months.”
Brooke blushed a laugh at that.
Once we finished up here, she and I would have to drive to the main state office of U.S. Capital Bank to finalize the account paperwork in person later today, but that was as good as done. The bank office was here in the city, not far from the MegaLotto office.
(*)(*)
“And now the bad news,” Antonio said after we wrapped up the last of the banking details, including a lot of signing paperwork.
“Bad news?” Brooke laughed. “What could possibly be bad about today?”
Antonio offered a careful smile, “We have to take Michael’s photo and put it in the public record. We will also release his name to the media.”
“Why?” Brooke asked, annoyed.
“State law.”
“So, like, everyone will know Mike won the money?”
Antonio nodded.
“That’s not good,” Brooke fretted. “What if someone tries to steal it?”
She had a point. I wasn’t too happy about having my name going public either. Dad would obviously find out, but who else? As much as I hated Dad, there were much worse people in the world than him. Didn’t seem like it after last night, but I was being realistic.
“Don’t worry, Mike,” Antonio smiled. “We can recommend several reputable security firms who specialize in this sort of thing. They can guide you through the process of protecting your person and managing your wealth.”
“Protecting his person?” Brooke scoffed. “You mean like personal security? The armed kind?”
“Don’t worry, miss,” Antonio winked. “Mike isn’t the first jackpot winner we’ve helped transition into their new lives. I’d like to think we’ve done a pretty good job. I’m happy to report many of our winners do just fine.”
“Many? What about the few?” Brooke was on top of things. “What happened to them? Are you happy to report what happened to them?”
Antonio flashed teeth, “Not everyone is willing to take the necessary steps to protect themselves. Those who do are very capable of living quiet lives of relative anonymity while enjoying their wealth, even with their names being made public.”
“Capable?” Brooke said. “Relative? What’s with all the qualifiers, Antonio?”
“Nothing in life is ever guaranteed, I’m afraid.”
“Don’t do it, Mike,” Brooke said emphatically. “Don’t let them take your picture.”
Antonio sighed, “I appreciate your concern, miss, but I’m afraid it’s state law.”
“Who cares?” Brooke snorted. “You already transferred the money to Mike’s bank!” She spun on me. “Don’t take the picture, Mike! You’ve got the money! Let’s just go!”
Antonio’s annoyance was escalating, but he kept it tied down under a professional smile.
I sighed, “You guys are going to release my name either way, right?”
“Yes.”
“That means anyone can find me online. Brooke, I don’t think the picture matters either way.”
“Fine. Fine! Take your stupid picture. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
A very relived Antonio ushered us into the lobby and a staff member with an expensive camera lined us up standing in front of the MegaLotto sign on the wall, with me and Antonio surrounded by a dozen other staffers. Initially, Brooke didn’t want to be in the photo until she overhead some of the female staffers commenting how cute and young I was. Then she jumped in the middle of things, insisting on melding herself to my side for every picture. I didn’t mind. That was where I had always wanted her. I pulled her close throughout the short photo shoot. We even kissed in several pictures, with her laughing lightly.
“Now what?” I sighed when the excitement started to ebb.
Antonio grinned, “Now you go spend your money, Mr. Michael G. Hunt. You’re now a very rich man.”
“Call me Mike,” I grinned and felt inspired to hook an arm around Brooke’s waist and pull her against my side. “Mike Hunt.”
“I am,” Brooke declared with a wink.
Antonio’s smile folded into an amused frown.
“Give it a second,” I chuckled, proud of my name for the first time in my life. “It’ll come to you.”
“Mike Hunt…” Antonio mumbled to himself. “Mike Hunt. Mike…”
“Say it nine more times. Fast as you can,” I grinned.
He only had to say it four more before hilarity ensued.
(*)(*)
“We should buy a house,” Brooke said, her hand on my chest, and my arm around her shoulders as we walked out to her car.
“A house?” I laughed.
“Why not?”
“I was thinking rent an apartment.”
“You’re thinking too small, Mike. Think big!”
“The only big thing I can think of is my dick.” I was hard again. Now that we were alone save for the cars in the parking lot and the wide open field surrounding it, I was intimately aware of Brooke’s hot body snuggling against mine as we walked, her jiggling cleavage visible in her V-neck.
“We have all the time in the world to fuck, Mike. But we need a place to do it. Like a house. No, mansion. One with fourteen rooms and the hugest pool you’ve ever seen.”
“It’ll have to be indoors.”
“Indoors?” She frowned.
“The pool.”
“No way! You want an infinity pool outside with a view of nature. Not some stuffy indoor pool. I hate those.”
“I don’t want anyone having a view of you,” I smiled. “If you’re going to tan topless, I don’t want anyone looking except me.”
“I can’t tan at an indoor pool.”
“We’ll put in a rolling sun roof. Tall walls.” Knowing I could literally pay for all those things and more was making me giddy, but not nearly as giddy as the priceless vision flaunting herself beside me. “The pool stays indoors. So do you. When you’re naked, anyway.”
She halted in front of her Miata, pulled away from my arm, and cocked her fist on her hip. “Do you have a problem with me walking around naked in mother nature? Because if you do, too bad. I like to be outside when I’m topless. Sorry.” Nothing about it sounded like an apology. “You of all people should know that.”
“True, but if other people are looking at you, men in particular, then yes, I have a problem. Sorry.” I wasn’t apologizing either.
She sneered, “Oh, I see how it is. You fuck me with your magical dick and win MegaLotto and you think you own me?”
“Bought and paid for,” I quipped.
“Money can’t buy you love and it won’t buy me either.” She was serious, starting to anger.
I said cas
ually, “I meant my dick. He paid.”
Her rage slowly broke and Brooke laughed heartily, bent over at the waist enough to feature her cleavage. She shook until she laughed it out. The moment, not her boobs. They stayed where they belonged while I stared at my little slice of heaven, chuckling along with her.
When she finished, she winked, “Get in the car, Houdini Pini.”
“What?” I laughed.
“Do you need me to spell it?”
“No,” I chuckled. “But I’m driving.”
“No you’re not,” she smirked. “Unless you plan on fighting me for it.”
“I’ll do that as soon as we find a bed,” I teased.
“Who needs a bed?” She flicked her eyes at the interior of her convertible. The MX5 had two cramped bucket seats and minimal legroom.
“It needs a backseat,” I offered.
“Not if you fuck me while you’re driving.” She opened the driver door and held it for me. “Hop in, Houdini. It’s time for you to make the magic happen.”
Optional Epilogue
Two ruthless men sat in a black Camaro with tinted windows, parked in the MegaLotto parking lot, watching a muscular young man and stunning blonde woman flirting in front of a white Mazda convertible.
“You think that’s them?” the driver asked.
“Has to be,” the passenger said.
“The state announce a name yet?”
“Far as I can tell from the website, no.” He was thumbing away on his phone. “They will.”
“Which one you think won?”
“Hard to say. They both look too damn happy. Could be both.”
“You see the cunt stilts on that blonde?”
“Gimme a minute,” the passenger chuckled. “I can’t take my eyes off her tits.”
“I’ll make you a deal. You fuck the tits while I fuck the cunt. Then we’ll switch.”
“Deal. Do we do that before we separate them from their winnings or after?” The passenger smiled, all teeth.
“Both,” the driver snorted, all fangs.
“You just gave me a killer idea,” Teeth said.
“What?” Fangs asked.
“If he won, I say we take the bitch, hold her for ransom. A hundred to one that love-drunk lovebird’ll pay everything he has to get the bitch back. I would.”
“What if she won?”
“We take her anyway. Lock her up some place he’ll never find her.”
“You know it.” Fangs offered a scurrilous grin and both men broke into easy evil laughter.
The Camaro’s predatory engine growled to life and it rumbled slowly out of the parking lot, following the Mazda.
(*)(*)
Optional Epilogue?
What the heck does that mean?
I’ll answer that in a second.
First, thanks for reading!
What did I tell you? Women’s romance wrapped in a man’s package. Or if you’re a man, your package wrapped up in a woman’s romance. Wocka, wocka, wocka! I got a million of ’em.
So, yeah. You’re probably wondering about this “Optional Epilogue.” I can explain. I wrote Sinful Intentions on a lark. In case you don’t know, I usually write women’s romance. Sinful Intentions is an experiment in what I’m calling men’s romance.
Is that a thing?
It is now.
The thing is, I have no idea if Sinful Intentions will appeal to anybody except a few of my loyal readers, and their bashful husbands or boyfriends who won’t admit they enjoyed reading this. That’s a hint, ladies. Tell your hubs or your BF to read Mike and Brooke’s story if they haven’t already. Who knows. It might spark some sinful fun between you and yours.
Anyway, as you’ve already read, up to the point of the Optional Epilogue, Mike and Brooke got their HEA. For any men reading this, that’s a technical romance term for a “Happily Ever After” ending, not to be confused with the massage parlor version of a “Happy Ending.” But I digress.
If you wanted, you could tell yourself that Mike and Brooke’s story ended happily and they drove off into the sunset with their money and their love intact, and not a worry in the world.
Or, if you want to read more about Mike and Brooke, the Optional Epilogue suggests that, gasp, they’re about to be served a huge helping of holy shoot! And I’m not talking about guns. Except, obviously, you and I both know those two dudes Teeth and Fangs probably have as many guns as they have bad intentions. They’re clearly gearing up to ruin Mike and Brooke’s HEA in a big, bad way.
But let’s be honest.
If anything bad happens to Brooke, Mike isn’t going to sit on his hands and fret. He’s an MMA badass. He knows how to ride his dad’s Harley, and fix it. He’s taking calculus in high school, for goodness sake. You know he has more than a few tricks up his sleeve. No question, Mike is going to rush to Brooke’s rescue and start bashing the heads of anyone who looks at Brooke wrong… if.
If you want to read it.
If you do, tell me you want more Mike and Brooke by leaving an Amazon review.
If enough people are interested, I’ll write Sinful Intentions 2 and 3. Each will be 30K words in length (same as this book), making for a 90K full-length novel when all is said and done. I’ve already outlined the story, and know exactly how it ends. For you devoted fans of the HEA ending, spoiler alert, it’ll have an HEA. Other than that, I will say only that books 2 and 3 will be action-packed and leaking steam. Ladies, you’ll know what that means. Gents, you can figure it out.
Anywho, I still need to write it. All you have to do is write a short Amazon review telling me you want more Sinful Intentions, and I’ll do it if there’s enough interest. It’ll only take you a second. Click over to Amazon and start typing! :-D
If you’d like to read any of the romantic comedies I’ve written for women, follow me, aka Devon Hartford, on Amazon by clicking the yellow “Follow” button on my author page here:
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Devon Hartford spent most of his life in Southern California. Devon also paints. His background in the arts was the inspiration for his #1 bestselling romantic comedy series The Story of Samantha Smith. When he isn’t painting or writing, he’s pounding out power chords and screaming like a demon in his heavy metal band. m/
OTHER BOOKS BY DEVON HARTFORD:
COLLEGE ROMANTIC COMEDY
Fearless (The Story of Samantha Smith #1)
Reckless (The Story of Samantha Smith #2)
Painless (The Story of Samantha Smith #3)
NEW ADULT ROMANTIC COMEDY
Cover Model
Stealing Chastity
HIGH SCHOOL ROMANTIC COMEDY
Stepbrother Obsessed
ADULT ROMANTIC COMEDY
Taking Back Beautiful
Broken Lion
The Nightmare Ex-Boyfriend Before Christmas
THE CRUEL KINGS OF CASTLE HILL ACADEMY
Book 1: Rich Boys vs. Poor Boys
SLIGHTLY PARANORMAL ROMANCE
If I Were Beautiful (If I Were… #1)
BILLIONAIRE ROMANCE
The Nightmare Ex-Boyfriend Before Christmas
ONE YEAR LOVE - Part One
ONE YEAR LOVE - Part Two
ONE YEAR LOVE - Part Three
ONE YEAR LOVE - Part Four
ONE YEAR LOVE - Collected Edition (Parts 1-4)
ROCKER ROMANCE
Victory RUN 1 (The Story of Victory Payne)
Victory RUN 2 (The Story of Victory Payne)
Victory RUN 3 (The Story of Victory Payne)
Victory RUN 1-2-3 (The Story of Victory Payne - Collecting Parts 1
-2-3)
Sinful Intentions Page 11