Sins of a Bad Boy (The Original Bad Boys Book 1)

by Naomi, Soraya

  “My lady.” He bowed slightly and winked, detecting a small twitch in her pretty pink lips.

  She inclined her chin, and he turned, feeling her gaze burning into his back as he walked away, toward Charles on the other side of the room.

  William was unsure how he felt about their odd encounters, and he couldn’t refrain from looking back one more time. Ivy had a full grin on her face, causing William to frown at this weird woman. He shook his head and joined Charles; however, before he could even open his mouth, there was an uproar among a few of the couples who were dancing nearby.

  William and Charles scrutinized the commotion.

  The musicians kept playing, but a stream of couples moved to the side, and one man’s voice came booming over the music, “Who took it? No one leaves this ballroom! I knew I felt something a few minutes ago!” Said gentleman was checking all his pockets.

  As William watched the man, a strange sensation came over him, and he searched for Ivy, who was now holding a tall glass in her hand, staring at him. There was something in the way she was smirking at him that made him check his own inside jacket pocket, and he was completely surprised to find a lightweight wallet in there – one that was not his.

  He muttered under his breath, “Are you kidding me?!”

  William glared back at Ivy while gritting his teeth; he couldn’t believe she’d just set him up.

  “William.” Charles regarded him with narrowed eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  “She fucking set me up!”

  The crease in Charles’s forehead deepened as he stepped closer to William so no one overheard their words. “What are you talking about?”

  “Ivy,” he snarled and touched his breast pocket, “stole the wallet and planted it in my pocket.”

  “Why would she do that?”

  “I have no idea. Maybe because I was teasing her and she thinks this is funny?” William rubbed his jaw, perusing the room as he went over his options in his mind. “I need to get rid of this wallet right now.”

  “How? You need to hurry before everyone starts to pay attention to the victim.”

  More and more people were gathering around the man who was looking for his stolen item – William needed to act quickly.

  His eyes landed on Jeremy Dechamps. Hurriedly, William approached Jeremy from behind, sweeping by him and slipping the wallet into his back pocket without anyone noticing.

  Then he looked at Charles and nodded toward the door to exit the place, all the while searching for Ivy, who was now conveniently missing in action. She’d fled the scene, leaving William even angrier than he was a couple of minutes before. But apart from anger, there was also another feeling. Perhaps a tiny bit of amusement at her audacity? No, at the moment, rage overruled.

  Who the hell does this rich bitch think she is? This isn’t over.

  He would retaliate when she least expected it. Ivy Ravensdale had just messed with the wrong person. She had no idea about the darkness and hate that resided in William. This was why William loathed society, especially the wealthy – because they just did what they wanted and toyed with people’s lives, forcing him to participate in their silly games in order to protect himself.

  CHAPTER 4

  “Let’s call it Sins,” Charles suggested to William as they stepped out of the full gaming club, going toward the car.

  It was days after the Dunns’ party, and William had been persistently thinking about a certain lady with a mixture of rage and an undecipherable feeling he didn’t want to consider.

  The day after the party, William had heard that Jeremy was caught leaving the premises with the wallet and that there was a fight between Jeremy and the gentleman who was robbed. However, no police were involved. Law enforcement had no command of the upper class – the upper class held all the power. These aristocrats were judge, jury, and executioner, preferring to take matters into their own hands. And William was becoming part of that supremacy; he understood now how easy it was to have influence over everyone when you had money.

  William was glad he wasn’t blamed for the theft, and as much as he wanted to find out more about Ivy Ravensdale, the past few days had been about William instructing and training the women and men for the new sex club. He’d also hired a manager for the club – a muscular, long-haired twenty-six year old Italian named Silk DeMarco, who always wore his hair in a bun and had a long scruffy beard. He’d taken over the training on days when William had other priorities, such as a fight. Training involved educating the women and men about seduction and the various forms of sexual pleasure they were required to master, not actually having sex with them. No, they were being trained by William and Silk, and the employees practiced on each other.

  The training had, however, managed to enhance William’s sexual drive. But he didn’t want to get involved with any employee – this was also one of Charles’s strict rules – and he had been living as a monk because of his busy schedule anyway.

  Today was the day before the opening of the new club, and they didn’t have any liquor yet, which meant they were now going to use force to get their way.

  “I like that name,” William answered, finding it an appropriate name for their new club.

  “Sins it is then.” They got into the vehicle, and Charles drove them through the desolate streets to their destination.

  ***

  Upon entering the shady bar called ‘Hookers’, they marched to the office of the man they needed to chat with, and William banged open the doors, which Charles closed behind them.

  An overweight, black-haired American lurched up from behind his desk as William went to him, pushing him down into his seat with a palm bracing his neck.

  “Mr. Markson, we need to talk,” William said.

  In a world where the toughest survive, William was used to exercising power with violence. This was what he thrived on.

  Charles, who was standing in front of the desk wearing a bored expression and leaning on his cane, continued, “We had a deal, and you didn’t come through.” Then he twisted the head of his cane and slid out the sabre, pointing the sharp end at Markson’s chest.

  Markson tried to wrench back from William’s hold, so William dug his fingers harder into his neck.

  “Ahhh! Tell William to back off,” Markson rasped.

  “No,” Charles answered evenly, sabre in place but not piercing the man’s skin. “Where’s the liquor you promised me?”

  Charles and William didn’t have a liquor license for the sex club, which was an illegal establishment just like the fight club. Even the gaming club’s legal liquor license didn’t get them enough alcohol for all their customers. They always had to buy spirits on the black market because the Anti-Saloon League was trying to keep establishments from selling liquor, and the state was decreasing the amount of alcohol that was allowed to be imported every month.

  Now, they needed a great deal of expensive whiskey and champagne for the opening of Sins. Only, the risk with buying on the black market was that they had to deal with a lot of dodgy men and untrustworthy partners, such as Markson.

  “It’s been difficult, Charles. I was just about to contact you.”

  Charles and William’s gazes clashed for a second, and then William grabbed Markson’s hair, tugging it back and stretching his neck as Charles skimmed his sabre up to his throat.

  “Don’t lie to us! It’s the night before the opening. When were you supposedly going to contact us? You received a batch of liquor last week. Where is it?” William demanded to know.

  Markson’s heavy breaths came more sporadic, but he kept quiet, which earned him a blow to his nose, blood streaming down his lips and chin as William released his hair.

  Charles let the tip of his sword rest on the desk and stared off into the distance, acting utterly bored. “William isn’t a patient man, so I’d answer if I were you. Where is my alcohol?”

  Markson grimaced from the pain. “I had to use it for my own bar.”

  “Why?” Willia
m cracked his knuckles, still standing next to Markson’s chair.

  “Because it’s becoming more difficult to get whiskey. The government is all over us distributors – especially the black market distributors. I was going to replenish your liquor with a batch of mine. But my batch never came through.”

  “This is a problem for me, Markson,” Charles stated. “I still need it. Tonight.”

  Markson was about to protest when William grabbed his collar and hauled him up, slamming him against the wall. “Don’t you dare give us any excuses. What can you get us right now?”

  “I-I don’t know,” he stammered, lying to them.

  William’s fist connected with Markson’s mouth. “How much do you have in your bar?”

  Markson spit out blood. “Maybe...five hundred bottles.”

  “Well, those five hundred are ours as of now. And since the batch we paid for should’ve contained a thousand bottles, you owe us half of our money back. I want it within a week or I’ll be visiting you again. And next time, I won’t be so nice.” William pulled Markson forward slightly and knocked him back once more before releasing him.

  Charles opened the door and gestured for Markson to accompany him and William. “Come with us and instruct your men to load a few of the bottles into my car.”

  With a grunt, Markson trailed behind William and Charles to do as ordered.

  ***

  Back at the gaming club, there was more trouble awaiting Charles and William.

  William and the bartender, Vince, carried the boxes of alcohol into the club though the mundane looking entrance hall. The club was housed in a nondescript building in the Loop area of Chicago. The entryway was plain and simple, one of a simple American apartment with a long corridor that ended at a large set of double doors. Behind those doors was a huge hall, the gaming club.

  The space consisted of one hall with a luxurious Oriental carpet and dim, yellow lamps covering every inch of the fourteen-foot-high ceiling. Tables were scattered about the room where people were gambling, and the center had a living room set-up with twelve black sofas and gilded chess boards. On the right was the bar, which was adorned with shelves that climbed the wall and were lined with bottles of liquor, and a row of barstools were located in front of the bar counter.

  The place was packed tonight, and as William passed the billiard table, he noticed a large group of people surrounding the hold ‘em poker table. He made his way to the crowd just in time to witness a showdown between two men. One, he recognized as Alfred Ravensdale, Ivy’s father and a regular gamer, but he didn’t know the other man. Alfred had just lost the pot. A wave of silent shock went through the crowd, and everyone was inspecting Alfred’s pale face.

  “How much was in the pot?” William asked the dealer.

  “He bet his townhouse, sir,” he answered as he collected the cards and started to shuffle.

  This wasn’t the first time Alfred had lost a valuable asset because he didn’t know when to fold – he was addicted to poker.

  Charles came up behind William and said, “Alfred’s already in major debt with us. This is only increasing his dues. Who let him in?”

  “I don’t know. I just came over to check as well. We need to contain his mess or else he’ll never be able to pay us back. And we need to collect as much cash as possible from him right now. Have one of the bodyguards ensure he doesn’t leave the club. We’ll discuss this in your office later, when the club has quieted down; we don’t need any witnesses,” William suggested and Charles nodded.

  Next, William headed toward the vingt et un table, which was on the other side of the room, and he was completely surprised to find an auburn curled beauty there. For a second, his gaze snapped back to the other side of the hall, toward Alfred. He couldn’t believe Alfred Ravensdale brought his own daughter to the club. While William and Charles never denied any woman access, it rarely happened that an aristocratic lady stepped inside.

  Ivy, wearing a baggy mauve ankle-length dress that didn’t complement her figure, was perched on a stool, playing blackjack with three other men. As always, she wore her hair down.

  Even though William should’ve been furious that she had the audacity to come into his club, that was the furthest thing from his mind. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, and he wasn’t the only one. The other players were surreptitiously glancing at her with a glint of sexual interest. For the third time, this woman had completely stunned him, with both her actions and her demeanor. And tonight, she didn’t appear as young as she did before.

  William found himself striding toward Ivy. Standing directly behind her, he braced both hands on the table, caging her in, and spoke in a low voice, close to her ear. “Good evening, Ivy.”

  She froze, then turned her head with infinite slowness since she was trapped between his arms. Her back pressed against his chest, and her wide round eyes betrayed her shock.

  It entered William’s mind that she might’ve been unaware that he was one of the owners of the club.

  “M...Mr. Kade,” she sputtered, eyes still huge. “What a coincidence. What are you doing here?”

  So, she evidently didn’t know William owned this club. Good. This meant she was now off balance, and William decided not to confront her about her little stunt with the wallet, but to toy with her. Just like she’d done with him at the Dunn party.

  The three other men at the table and the dealer observed their exchange with amusement.

  “Finish this game,” William said to the players and dealer, continuing to keep Ivy caged in and dipping his head to speak into her ear. “Then Ivy and I will play alone.”

  “Yes, sir.” The dealer nodded.

  Ivy was immovable in his arms, remaining stoic, but he could see her chest heaving with irregular breaths. And William found an unholy delight in tormenting her like this. In pushing this lady’s boundaries.

  They were on his territory now. Ivy had entered the lion’s den.

  As William instructed, the game was completed with the dealer winning, and the other men scampered away.

  Then William lowered his mouth to her ear again. “It’s not a coincidence at all, Ivy. I own this club.”

  He could’ve sworn that she cursed quietly under her breath. This lady had a few unladylike habits, which seemed to increase his interest in her by the minute.

  And while he wanted to continue to make Ivy feel trapped between his arms, he moved to sit very close next to her and pulled his billfold from his pocket, peeling off a couple of notes and throwing twenty dollars into the betting box.

  Ivy eyed his bet – clearly wondering whether or not she should bet that huge an amount – and matched it with her own bill. Usually, blackjack was only played with coins in his club, but he wanted to test Ivy, to see how far she’d go before giving up.

  “Deal,” he ordered, and the dealer shot into action.

  Ivy received a nine and a five.

  William had an ace and an eight.

  The dealer’s cards consisted of a six and a king.

  William angled his body slightly toward Ivy and reached for her leg under the table, boldly resting his palm on her thigh.

  She arched a brow, and one of her hands also slid under the table, mirroring his action. “Hit me,” she told the dealer, obviously hoping she wouldn’t get a card higher than seven because then she would lose, reaching over twenty-one.

  Her hand was burning through his trousers, and in reaction, he inched his higher on her thigh.

  She did the same, stopping close to his crotch.

  They were definitely not just playing blackjack but were playing each other. William leaned in toward her face, checking the room with a quick glance and verifying that they were hidden in the corner by the many regulars walking around. And because he couldn’t refuse her pull, he curled his hand on her thigh, letting his fingers touch between her legs – she inhaled sharply.

  He kept provoking her, tracing the thumb of his other hand over her lush lower lip, then dippi
ng inside briefly. “If you don’t stop caressing me, then I’m going to take what you’ve been silently offering me since we met.” He removed his thumb and licked it, tasting her, as a flush of scarlet crept up her throat.

  The dealer remained professional and ignored their position, placing another card on Ivy’s stack: a three. So now, Ivy had seventeen, as opposed to William’s eighteen.

  At its own volition, William’s nose stroked down the soft skin of her cheek as he inhaled her sweet fragrance. Ivy turned her head and their lips touched. Then she tentatively also started to rub up and down William’s thigh. This woman didn’t believe in giving in; she wanted him to cave first.

  William’s cock was hardening in his pants. Her honeyed smell and daring touch excited him.

  He hoped the dealer would bust.

  The dealer drew himself another card and did bust, losing with a seven.

  “I win,” William said against Ivy’s lips in a tone he didn’t recognize.

  “You did, this once,” she countered as the tips of her fingers were constantly brushing against his balls.

  He wondered if she was bold enough to take this further. He knew he was. William stroked her between her legs, and her eyes widened and then fell shut. Ivy’s lips parted, and he did what he’d promised minutes earlier; he took what she was offering and stole a kiss, covering her mouth with his and tracing his tongue over her lip.

  “Open your mouth,” he growled.

  And he could tell that she was so overwhelmed by his touch that she forgot to fight him. Instead, she did as ordered and tasted him eagerly, pushing her tongue against his, and when a moan escaped her, he groaned. William’s other hand tangled in her hair as her legs widened more and she started to push her pelvis against his fingers. He bunched up her skirt and raked his palm up her thigh. Her skin was soft, and he could feel her shiver as he nudged her panties aside and plunged a finger inside her. Ivy was obviously startled, because she stiffened for a moment, but then she went with it, whimpering into his mouth and arching her back.