by Dani Rene
Brazen Bachelor
A Cocky Hero World Novel
Dani René
Contents
Introduction
Prologue
1. Colton
2. Violet
3. Colton
4. Violet
5. Colton
6. Violet
7. Colton
8. Violet
9. Colton
10. Violet
11. Colton
12. Violet
13. Colton
14. Violet
15. Colton
16. Violet
17. Colton
18. Violet
19. Colton
20. Violet
21. Colton
22. Violet
23. Colton
24. Violet
25. Colton
26. Violet
27. Colton
28. Violet
29. Violet
Epilogue 1
Epilogue 2
Afterword
Acknowledgments
Also by Dani René
About Dani René
Find Me Online
Copyright © 2020 Dani René
Edited by Candice Royer
Proofed by Illuminate Author Services
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book
or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
The following story contains mature themes, strong language, and sexual situations. It is intended for adult readers.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in the work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.
Please note my hero Colton is British, his POV and dialogue will be in British English which will look different to American English.
Introduction
Brazen Bachelor is a standalone story inspired by Vi Keeland and Penelope Ward’s Stuck Up Suit and British Bedmate. It's published as part of the Cocky Hero Club world, a series of original works, written by various authors, and inspired by Keeland and Ward's New York Times bestselling series.
Dedication
Believe in yourself.
You are beautiful.
Inside and out.
Prologue
Colton
The contract sitting on the desk in front of me beckons. All it needs is my signature, and then I’m off to the Big Apple. If you’d asked me when I was eighteen, what I'd be doing the year I turned twenty-seven, I wouldn’t have told you in a million years that I'd be jetting off to New York to model underwear.
London is cold and dreary today, as we head into autumn. The chilly days have taken over the warmth of summer. And this evening looks like it’s taking a turn for the worst. Droplets spatter the window of my home office, and the clouds hang heavy with the threat of incessant rain.
I glance at the contract once more, picking up the pen and signing my name on the dotted line, initialling every page. The date confirms I’ll be flying out within a week.
I should call Simon, my mate, who is over in the US right now. He’s all loved up and happy while I’m here still playing the field. Don’t get me wrong; I’m happy for him, but I can’t settle down. Just the thought of it makes me break out in hives.
Pushing away from the desk, I head into the kitchen and grab a beer from the fridge. After today, I’m back on my gym routine, which is always rigorous when I’m shooting.
The life of someone in the public eye isn’t easy, and that’s where I think Simon got the better deal. Even though his job is to save lives, which would stress me the fuck out, the pressure to look good twenty-four seven can get tiring.
My phone vibrates on the counter, and I pick it up to see my best mate’s name flashing on the screen.
“I was just thinking about you, mate,” I answer. The time zones never allow us enough time to have a long conversation, but since I’m up late, he’s finally caught me.
“I knew you wanted me,” he taunts.
“Oh yeah, baby.” I laugh out loud, shaking my head as I flop on the couch and flick on the telly before I blurt, “I’m coming to New York.”
“What? When?” he questions excitedly.
Sighing, I smile at the ceiling as I announce, “Got that contract I was telling you about. I’m going to be shaking my arse on billboards across America.”
“Jesus, I may have to move again, taking my wife with me.”
“Why? Scared that she’ll want me more than you as soon as she sees my fine physique?” Another taunt and I know if he were here, I’d get a swat against the back of my head for that.
“You fucking wish,” he bites back. Our banter is something that most people never understood. They were convinced we were fighting or arguing, but this is how our friendship was formed, and when he left, I focused on work. He was the only person I kept in touch with since leaving college.
“So, when do you arrive?”
“Next week. Waiting on the agency to get the flight details, and I’ll send them on to you. I know you’re not near New York, but it would be good to meet up.”
“Yeah, I’d like that. Would you consider staying here? Long term?” It’s something I have thought about, but nothing really made me want to take the plunge. Yes, being close to Simon would be great, but other than that, I think our worlds are so far apart we wouldn’t see each other much anyway.
“Maybe,” I answer, honestly.
He sighs, and I know what’s coming. “You may meet someone, fall in love, and then you'd have to settle down sometime, mate.” He tells me the same thing he’s told me since he first met his lovely wife. She really did change him. I remember when he first moved into the apartment, she was renting. He was so afraid of her, and her son, of caring about them.
“Coming from the man, I had to convince to stay there and finally make an honest man of himself.” My goad earns me a chuckle. It’s one of the reasons I give him shit. I recall how afraid he was about feeling anything for Bridget, but they couldn’t fight their attraction for very long.
“Yeah, sure you did. And look how happy I am.” He’s right. I’ve seen the photos — he is happy. The thought is tempting, I can’t deny knowing what they have has had me thinking about a possible future with someone. But I also enjoy my freedom. At least, that’s what I call it. Simon would say it’s my fear of being locked down to one woman for the rest of my life, and perhaps that’s true, but for now, I need to focus on work.
“I’ll call you next week when I land.”
“You do that,” Simon tells me before hanging up.
Time to pack and figure out just what I’m going to be taking with me to my new life.
I can’t see myself falling in love anytime soon, but I know New York has a bevy of beauties, and I’m going to make sure I meet
them all. With a grin on my face and my excitement slowly climbing, I pull out the suitcase that has taken me all over the world.
Call it intuition, but this thing has brought me good luck all my life, and it’s going with me all the way across the pond. Who knows what it will bring me when I arrive?
1
Colton
Since the plane landed an hour ago, I’ve been whisked into a town car, and we’re heading down the busy streets of New York to the Manhattan penthouse suite they’ve secured for my stay in the city.
The bustling sidewalks of the Big Apple are alive. Tourists, people racing to get to work, and bicycles weaving through the traffic, which is packed with yellow cabs trying to collect passengers.
I take it all in, noticing how different the energy of New York is to the craziness of London. The June heat is suffocating outside, but in the car, I’m kept cool with the welcome air conditioning.
“Here we are, sir,” the driver informs me as we pull up to a fancy-looking hotel. Flags wave in the breeze. Countries like United Kingdom, Germany, and even Australia represent themselves on the exterior of the cracking-looking building, and I look forward to my new home for the next few months. I’m not sure how long I’ll be here, but it doesn’t hurt living in the lap of luxury.
“Thank you.” I smile at him before exiting the car. The trunk is opened, and the bell boy is already working on getting the luggage onto a gilded trolley. I head inside, making a beeline for the reception desk.
“Good morning, sir. How can I help you?” A smile from a gorgeous woman is always appreciated, especially after an eight-hour flight.
“Hello, darling.” I offer her a grin. “I’m Colton King, checking into the penthouse suite.”
Her eyes widen. Recognition flits in her pretty green eyes before she nods with another bright smile. “Of course, sir,” she replies as she taps on the keyboard. “Can I have your passport, please?”
I slide the deep red little booklet over to her, and I watch as she plugs away at the computer. Her bright-red nails match the pouty lips that purse as she inserts the information into the system.
It doesn’t take long for her to hand over the key card and explain how to get up to the top floor. She calls over one of the staff to escort me and my luggage up, and I’m tempted to leave my private number for her, but I don’t.
Focus, Colton.
The ride to the top of the skyscraper takes longer than I expect, but the moment I step out of the elevator, I’m standing outside the door to my apartment. The place that will be my home for the next few months.
I unlock it, step inside, and I’m caught up in the spacious room that greets me. My apartment in London has nothing on this. The living room is minimally furnished, all clean lines and modern touches of glass and silver.
There’s not much in the room besides two large sofas, a glass coffee table, and a black shag carpet.
The floor-to-ceiling windows offer up a million-dollar view of the city below, and the sleek curtains that hang on either side of the panes are glinting in the low lights.
“Thank you, sir,” the bell boy says, causing me to turn around. I pull out my wallet and hand him a hundred, to which he grins like a happy fool. Once I’m alone, I head for the kitchen, pulling open the sleek, silver fridge to find it stocked with juice, bottles of wine, beer, and fresh fruit and vegetables. When they asked me what I’d like in the house, I offered up a small list, and it seems that the agency took note of my demands.
I pull out a beer and twist the cap, taking a long swig of the cool liquid before I head deeper into the apartment. The hallway leads down to the back of the residence, where I find two bedrooms. One is smaller than the other, so I make my way into the bigger one, which is mine.
The California King bed sits against a black accent wall with dark gray bedding and white pillows. The soft carpet underfoot is a muted shade of charcoal, and the windows are also floor-to-ceiling, gifting me a view of Central Park.
New York is a city of dreams. The last time I was here, I only spent time at the Hilton, where I was chauffeured back and forth to the shoots I was booked for. It was a whirlwind two weeks where I didn’t get to tour the city. Now, I’m here for much longer, and I intend to explore more of the Big Apple.
I take another gulp of beer before I head into the bathroom. The room is strikingly decorated, with dark accent tiles, a spa tub and a two-person shower. Not bad. Not bad at all.
The agency has outdone itself. I can’t wait to see what other delights they have planned. But before all that, I need to sleep. Then I can focus on painting the town bright fucking blue. A colour which reminds me of sunny skies and summer days.
2
Violet
I spent my life reading magazines. I’ve also spent most of my teenage years reading advice columns. I’m addicted to them. I love to know that someone is going through the same heartache, the same drama that I am.
The cold is unbearable this morning as I rush into the building to try to stay warm. Working for one of the most prestigious women’s magazines in the country has been a dream come true, and I don’t want to mess this up. Being late is one of my boss’s pet peeves, but I make it to my desk just in time.
“Violet,” she calls to me the moment I drop my purse on the desk. “Get in here now. We have a meeting in an hour, and I need to get up to speed on the latest and greatest in the modeling world.”
She does this frequently, talking to me when I’m at my desk. Grabbing a notepad and pen, I rush into her office and shut the door. I settle in one of the bright pink wingback chairs perched opposite her throne and smile.
“Good morning, Clarissa,” I greet. “Which meeting is coming up? I didn’t see it on the schedule this morning.”
“I just got a call from Silverton Modeling Agency. They’ve brought in some hot model to launch a brand-new men’s underwear line, and we’re meeting with them to talk about the event. Apparently, some well-known club is hosting it. Since you’re interested in learning the ins and outs of becoming a journalist perhaps, you’d like to handle this one. It focuses more on the nightlife in the city, but I figured you could start there.”
“Oh,” I mumble. “Thank you.” I’m not the biggest party animal, but I can make an exception for my job.
“If you can get this article written by Monday morning before we go to print, I’ll think about giving you a promotion.” To the point. I knew this was coming, and my heart thuds happily in my chest at the thought of some extra money.
“Which club is it? When is the party?”
She sits back, sighing as she clicks on her keyboard, and then reads from the screen, “Lush is holding one of the biggest parties this city has ever seen. Step into the exotic and take a plunge into the forbidden with Brazen Briefs. This new line will be launched by the hottest face in men’s fashion, Colton King.”
“I’ve never heard of him,” I admit, and it’s true. I know most of the names in the tabloids, but Colton King hasn’t shown up anywhere.
“He’s from Britain,” she explains. “The party is on Saturday night, which is the day after tomorrow. From nine till late.” She pins me with a stare that jolts my heart. “Be there, make friends with this Colton, and ensure we have his first interview locked in before anyone can grab him.”
That should be easy enough, I think sarcastically. She knows for a fact that there will be at least twenty other magazines who are vying for the attention of this guy, and I have to fight them all off.
“If you want this job, Violet, you’ll make it happen,” she informs me, and I know she’s right. I’ve wanted to be a journalist since I was a child, following the articles and columns of everyone I could. I fell in love with the written word from a young age. Now it’s my time to make the leap from assistant to a journalist, and even one day, I’ll make it to the head of the editorial department.
“I will.”
She sends me on my way, telling me to make sure I’m ready to meet wit
h the agent this afternoon. At my desk, I open my browser and type in the name Colton King.
Time to do some research.
When the lunchtime meeting rolls around, my mind is filled with images of Colton. Yes, he’s handsome, breathtakingly so. Still, I’ve also read enough about him to know he’s nothing more than a player who enjoys his bachelorhood far too much.
The moment I step into the room, I’m met with a woman who looks like she runs the world. Dressed all in black, her pantsuit fits her like a glove. She has a pastel-pink blouse underneath the fitted jacket, and her jet-black hair is sleek, ending just under her angular chin.
She looks like she should be on a runway, not helping others get their time in the spotlight.
“Violet, this is Blythe. She’ll be introducing you to Colton on Saturday night, and I’ve asked her to keep us in mind for the interview. Exclusively.” I can hear the underlying hint in Clarissa’s tone as she says this.
“Nice to meet you,” I say.
Blythe smiles at me. It’s not a friendly one, and she doesn’t seem overly excited to have to babysit me. The annoyance in her expression is evidence of that, but what she doesn’t know is that I’m a grown woman. I don’t need her to help me do my job.