by JA Low
Without Warning
Book 5 Playboys of New York
JA Low
Copyright © 2021 by JA Low
All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. JA low is in no way affiliated with any brands, songs, musicians, or artists mentioned in this book.
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this eBook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this eBook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy.
Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
Cover Design by Outlined with Love
Editor by Swish Design & Editing
Created with Vellum
Contents
1. Rhys
2. Rhys
3. Rhys
4. Ariana
5. Rhys
6. Ariana
7. Rhys
8. Ariana
9. Rhys
10. Ariana
11. Rhys
12. Ariana
13. Ariana
14. Rhys
15. Ariana
16. Rhys
17. Ariana
18. Rhys
19. Ariana
20. Ariana
21. Rhys
22. Ariana
23. Rhys
24. Ariana
25. Rhys
26. Rhys
27. Ariana
28. Rhys
29. Rhys
30. Ariana
31. Rhys
32. Rhys
33. Ariana
34. Ariana
35. Rhys
36. Rhys
37. Rhys
38. Ariana
39. Rhys
40. Rhys
41. Ariana
42. Ariana
Acknowledgments
About the Author
About the Author
Interconnecting Series
Also by JA Low
Also by JA Low
Also by JA Low
Interconnecting Series
Also by JA Low
Also by JA Low
1
Rhys
“Baby, can’t you come up this weekend,” Madison pleads down the phone.
“No, sweetheart, I can’t. I have to finish this deal,” I reply while rubbing my forehead with my fingers. Madison wants me to join her in The Hamptons to party the weekend away like she does most weekends, or should I say most days since we got married a year ago.
“You’re working too hard. You need to let off some steam,” she purrs at me.
I’m working my ass off to pay for her worldwide luxury trips and the all-day shopping to designer boutiques. I bite my tongue because it will only cause a fight if I ruffle her feathers. I’m not in the mood to argue with Madison at the moment, not when I am so close to securing a gorgeous piece of beachfront property in The Bahamas for my newest hotel.
“I know, sweetheart,” I answer, grinding my teeth as the words fall from my lips. “I’m so close. It’s taking a little longer than I anticipated. But I promise I will make it worth your while when it’s done.” Diamonds. They always make Madison happy, mostly when I’m too busy to drop everything to be with her.
“Oh, baby. You always make it up to me,” she coos. “I’m the luckiest woman in the world to have a husband as generous as you.”
My family thinks I’m the stupidest man in the world for how generous I am to my wife or ‘the gold digger’ as they refer to her. It’s caused much friction between us all. I know they want me to be happy, and I am, I mean, I think I am. No, I am, I reassure myself. The first year of marriage is always an adjustment period, isn’t it? Especially considering Madison has gone from being my assistant to my wife.
“I think Dominic is going to be up there,” I tell her as if that’s going to smooth things over. Why did I even mention it?
“Of course, he is,” she grumbles. I can almost see her rolling her eyes at the mere mention of my best friend’s name. They don’t get on at all—a major personality clash.
“He’s always up to party.” It surprises me that Madison and Dominic don’t get on. The two of them love to party, both of them eerily similar in their demeanors.
“I’m sure I’ll run into him.” She lets out a heavy sigh. “Especially this time of year.”
The Hampton’s summer social season is in full swing right now.
“I’ll be up there as soon as I can, I promise,” I tell her.
“Okay, baby.” Madison seems appeased for the moment. “I’ll see you when I see you. Love you, babe.”
“Love you too, sweetheart.” I place the phone back down on my desk and rub the stress from my brow to wait for however long it takes to secure this deal.
Moments later, everything changes.
I’m buzzing. I’ve landed the deal of the year. Finally, the planning permission to build on one of the most gorgeous stretches of beaches in The Bahamas has come through, so I can finally sign off on purchasing the block of land. The sale was contingent on planning approval, and now I’ve got it in my hand. I can finally relax a little, and Monday morning, I will sit down with my team and start project schedules on the newest addition to the Davenport Group.
I’m in the mood to celebrate.
So now, I will make my way to The Hamptons to surprise Madison.
We can spend the weekend together just like she asked of me. If I’m honest, I could use a few beers and some fantastic sex to relax me after negotiating this problematic venture.
Quickly packing up the office, I head out to the car and home to pack. Not long later, I rev the car and drive off. Thankfully, the roads are not as busy at this time of night as they would have been late afternoon—no traffic jams to delay my journey—so I’ve made good time.
Eventually, I pull up at my Southampton beachfront home. I can see Madison’s silver G-Class Mercedes SUV parked out the front and Dominic’s canary yellow F8 Ferrari Spider. Dom must have popped by, thinking I would be here as I park beside their cars. I look down at my Rolex. It’s 10:38 p.m., still early for them as they don’t go out until midnight. Yet, for ordinary people like me who have been up since five, I’m ready to crash.
Grabbing my overnight bag from the trunk of my car, I press my finger against the lock, the door unlocks, and I step into my home. Placing my bag in the foyer, I go looking for my wife and best friend and hope to hell they haven’t killed each other.
Music is blaring from the back of the house out by the pool. It’s a warm evening, and they’ve probably had a swim.
Making my way through the living room to the large glass sliding doors which let the outside in, the lights of the pool shimmer, but I don’t see anyone in the water. Stepping further outside, where the music is pumping from the outdoor speakers, I search the pool area for Madison and Dom, but they’re nowhere to be found.
Movement catches my attention from the pool house where they must be hanging out playing pool, so I hea
d toward the open sliding door. The lights are on, and muffled sounds filter through to me. I turn the corner, and the last thing I expect to see greets me. My wife is bent over the pool table while my best friend is hammering into her.
I must space out at some point because my mind is not computing what my eyes are seeing.
Is my best friend fucking my wife?
The best friend who hates my wife.
The wife who hates my best friend.
Are fucking each other in my home on my pool table while they think I am at work.
“Harder, Dommie, harder,” Madison urges my best friend to fuck her, which he does.
For some reason, all I can think about is that Madison would never let me fuck her over our pool table like that. She hardly ever lets me fuck her anywhere other than our bed now we’re married. Before that, when she was my assistant, Madison would fall to her knees and suck me off at my desk anytime I wanted her to, but once that ring hit her finger, she turned into something else.
Madison turns her head, then she lets out an almighty scream.
“That’s it, Mads,” Dom growls.
“Fuck, no,” Madison screams, her face turning pale as if she’s seen a ghost. “Get the fuck off me.” She pushes at Dominic.
“What the fuck, Mads?” Dominic curses.
“I think she wants you to stop fucking her because her husband is home.”
Dominic hears my voice and stops hammering into my wife. He lets go of my wife’s hips and pulls up his pants before slowly turning around to look at me.
“It’s um… shit…” Dominic has no words as he rakes his hand through his dark brown hair. “Rhys, I …” His face has paled also.
Madison rights her bikini but stands behind Dominic.
“How long have you two been doing this?” My voice is like steel. There’s no quiver, no tremble. It’s simply cold and hard.
“It’s not what you think, baby.” Madison finally gives me her innocent voice.
“So, I didn’t just see my best friend and wife fucking?” My voice rises higher as some sort of rage starts to bubble beneath the surface.
Madison’s eyes drop to the floor while she recovers and tries to think of a way she can get out of this mess.
“How. Fucking. Long?” My voice echoes around the walls, both of them wincing at the loud sound.
“First time.”
“A long time.”
They both answer differently.
Madison glares at Dominic, who I realize has told me the truth.
“Nearly two years,” Dominic eventually tells me.
My eyes widen with surprise at that revelation.
Two damn years.
So, the entire time Madison and I have been together.
“I don’t love him, baby. It’s just sex,” Madison adds as if that makes all the difference.
“Why?” I ask, ignoring my wife and posing the question to my supposed best friend.
“I met Maddison at your work. I had no idea you were seeing each other until I found out you were engaged,” Dominic explains. “And then it was too late for me to stop.” He looks over at Madison, then back to me.
“You’re in love with my wife?” My stomach sinks and wants to eject my coffee from earlier.
Doming bursts out laughing. “Fuck, no.”
Madison glares at him.
“She’s been a bit of fun. That’s all.”
“I’m so glad you thought this was all a bit of fun, breaking up my marriage.” There’s an ache in my chest where my heart should be. “That fucking your best friend’s wife because you could, is okay.” Raising my voice, I look over at Madison. “And you… you continued to fuck him after we were married. Why?”
“You never have time for me, Rhys,” she cries. “You’re always at work. It’s always fucking work,” she screams at me hysterically. “Then you come home, and you’re too tired to fuck me. I have needs, you know.”
Is she serious right now?
“I’ve been paying for all this…” I wave my hands in the air, “… for you.” She dares to roll her eyes at me. “For all your holidays around the world. For your designer wardrobe. For your perfect car. The plastic surgery. All of it. I work my ass off to provide for you.”
“I assumed your new assistant satisfied you just like I did.”
Again, is she fucking serious?
“I mean, I chose her specifically because I knew you liked blondes, and her tits are phenomenal.”
Dominic has the balls to nod his head in agreement over that comment.
“Get out. Get the fuck out, both of you.” I can’t take it any longer, looking at their non-remorseful faces. They absolutely don’t give one shit about me. “I never want to see either of you assholes, ever again.”
“Rhys, no. Please. No,” Madison begs as she runs over and tries to grab my arm.
“Get away from me.” Ripping myself from her grasp, I repeat, “Get. The. Fuck. Out.” Screaming in her face, “Leave me the fuck alone.”
Dominic pulls her out of the pool house.
I stalk over to the corner bar and grab the bottle of scotch, open it, and take a giant swig. I’m going to need to drink this entire bottle to erase the memories of what I’ve just witnessed in my own home.
2
Rhys
“What do you mean Madison wants fifty percent of my company?” Staring blankly at my overpriced lawyer, six months after finding my wife fucking my best friend, I am perplexed that she has the nerve to want anything from me.
“There’s a problem with the prenup,” my lawyer tells me, but it’s more like a murmur.
“What do you mean there’s a problem with the prenup?” Anger begins and starts to climb to the surface with an explosion about to erupt like a volcano.
I have an iron-clad prenup.
We both signed it.
There should not be a problem.
“Yes. We have the paperwork. All that is correct,” he adds.
“Then what the hell is the problem? I need this divorce done.” Losing my patience with the man, I take a deep centering breath.
“It looks like the paperwork was not filed correctly.” The words are like lead in my stomach.
“What did you say?” Surely, I can’t be hearing this correctly.
“The clerk who usually files this type of paperwork was absent on that day. So another, more junior clerk, filed it, but they didn’t do it correctly,” he explains.
“And what the hell does that mean?” My blood is boiling.
“It means the prenup was never filed,” my lawyer tells me slowly.
The words sinking into my soul.
No.
No.
Shaking my head.
This cannot be happening right now.
“Okay, so what the hell does that mean, then?”
He better not say what I think he’s about to say.
“It means she is entitled to everything.”
My hand comes down and slaps the desk hard. “What the fuck!”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Davenport. We have no idea what happened. The clerk who filed it that day is missing,” he explains.
“Missing?” He nods his head.
“Can we not backdate the prenup somehow, seeing as it was supposed to be lodged. Surely, the signature dates will help?” I ask.
“We would need to redo new paperwork and relodge it, but it’s probably too late for that now,” he tells me.
Basically, I’m fucking screwed.
There is no way Madison is going to settle, not when she knows there’s no prenup.
Fuck. I’m going to lose everything.
“And that’s why she wants fifty percent?”
My lawyer nods his head. “Mrs. Davenport states that for the years she worked for you while you dated, she helped you with your business,” he states. “That you sought her counsel on certain business opportunities,” he explains.
Of course, she does.
“She
thinks because we had conversations after we fucked that it constitutes her counseling me on my business?”
My lawyer nods his head in agreement.
“The courts can’t seriously think this is legit? She was my fucking assistant.” My voice raises with every word that’s spoken.
“Unfortunately, due to you not having a prenup in place, she may be entitled to it all.”
“Which was your fault!” I yell. My stomach somersaults, wanting to bring up the contents of my lunch at the thought that I could lose everything I’ve worked so damn hard for.
Madison knows how hard I’ve worked to separate myself from my father. I guess knocking up your assistant, who’s forty years your junior, was a step too far after years of his infidelity to my mother. Of course, I sided with my mother during the horrendous divorce, as did my sister.
On the other hand, being the second born, my brother always hated that I would inherit the family business over him because of our birth order.
The thing is, I never wanted to be an architect, unlike him.
I never wanted the damn company.
But when the family split, he made his move and sided with our father and is now second-in-charge at Davenport Architects. I wanted to create my own empire, where I was in control, because I would have to pry it from the cold, dead hands of my father before he ever gave it to me.