My Playboy Fiance: A Billionaire Fake Marriage Romance

by Katerina Cole

  She stopped at the door. “No. I don’t need your help with this, Nessa. I think I may have found your brother.”

  With that she snapped the lock in place and was gone.

  I stared at the closed door.

  What in the hell was going on?

  27

  Vanessa

  She couldn’t be serious. Why was Grammy tracking down my brother? Why did it suddenly matter where he was?

  I pressed the button on the intercom and called Candy.

  “Can you come in here please?”

  I was wrapped in a cloud of my grandmother’s perfume.

  “Sure.”

  Two seconds later, Candy walked in. “Everything ok?” she asked.

  “Not really.” I wasn’t going to drag her into the family saga. “I need to have a meeting with Charlie Maine, but not here.”

  “Ok?” She looked confused. She tucked the ends of her short hair behind her ear.

  “Could you set up a meeting for us away from the office? Maybe downtown?”

  “Downtown?”

  “Yes, downtown. Somewhere where there is music. There are tons of those places on Sixth Street, right? No sports bars,” I instructed. It was important we weren’t seen in the regular Warriors’ circles.

  “Ok got it, boss. I’m on it.”

  “Good. Please don’t mention it to anyone in the office. I need this meeting to stay confidential.” If Steve heard about this, I knew he would panic.

  “I’m good with secrets.” She smiled like a cat.

  Secret seemed to be the word of the day.

  The band on stage announced they had written the next three songs. My table was in the corner, out of view from anyone passing by on the sidewalk. I sipped my iced tea, waiting for Charlie Maine to arrive. I knew how lucky I was she had been available today. I didn’t know how there wasn’t another scandal somewhere in the AFA for her to clean up.

  But we did have an advantage. She was engaged to Luke Canton’s brother, Linc, and that meant her home base was still Austin. I had a meeting with Linc on my schedule for tomorrow. I assumed it was to discuss Luke’s next steps with the Warriors. He managed his brothers deals and contracts. Part of me was envious they had a functioning sibling relationship. It certainly wasn’t something I could claim.

  I didn’t know why Grammy was determined to track down Danny. I couldn’t get it out of my head. It wasn’t the only time she had mentioned it.

  He wasn’t going to reappear and suddenly swoop in and become the family patriarch. We didn’t have one of those anymore.

  When we were kids he was the biggest Warrior fan in the family. He had every card, game ball, hat, jersey. You named it—Danny had it. His room was a bigger shrine to the team than my grandfather’s office.

  I don’t know when that changed for him. When he stopped loving the team. Stopped loving football. Stopped loving his family. Grammy needed to give up this crusade—he wasn’t coming back. Eight years away from Texas wasn’t a temporary trip. He had moved on. We needed to do the same.

  I looked up when I saw Charlie enter the bar. She wore a fitted skirt that came just above her knee in a deep purple. I realized it was a leather material. She showed off her arms in a sleeveless silk blouse.

  “Vanessa.” She smiled, sliding into the café chair across from me. “I was surprised to get your message.”

  “Thanks for meeting with me so quickly. Would you like to order something?”

  She shook her head. “I have about fifteen minutes. What do you need?”

  Charlie had a reputation for being work-driven. She didn’t spend time with chit-chat or condolences. It was what made her successful. She could see through the bullshit.

  “I received some information this morning. And I’d like to hire you to help me with it.”

  “Like you did to roll out your engagement?” She eyed me.

  I swallowed. I wasn’t like Charlie. I needed time to warm up. To exchange a few pleasantries. I never started with punches first.

  I glanced at the ring on my left hand. I had slipped it on before leaving Isaac’s this morning.

  “It’s mostly convincing. Not entirely, but mostly.”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but Charlie stopped me. “It was a play right out of my handbook. Steve’s been studying my solutions for several years now. I’m not completely surprised he stole one of them.”

  “But—you’ve done that before?”

  She nodded. “I’m most proud of Luke and Lexi.”

  “But, they’re married. It doesn’t get any more real than that relationship.”

  “Do you think they started out that way? He was a hot-headed asshole. Your grandfather hired me to clean up his train wreck of an image.”

  “Wow.” I had no idea the secrets had run so deep.

  “Don’t get me wrong, he’s about to become my brother-in-law. I love him, but he can be a dick.” I locked in on her ring. It was gorgeous. Linc had chosen it himself and probably proposed in some sort of romantic setting.

  Unlike the rock of lies on my hand, hers meant a promise for the future. Dylan had every right to walk away as soon as the season ended. I wasn’t actually going to hold him to a wedding. That was ludicrous. I wasn’t naïve enough to think a man like that would want more. Besides, we had an understanding. An arrangement that worked for the season. I couldn’t ruin that by expecting commitment.

  “Well, this isn’t about my engagement.” I paused. “Well, maybe it is a little bit.”

  Charlie pressed her red lips together. “Come on, Vanessa. If you need my help put it out there. What’s the scandal this time. Which Warrior got drunk and had a three-way? Who has the pictures?”

  “What?” My voice squeaked. My palms were sticky.

  “Figure of speech. What’s the scandal?”

  Once my heart returned to its regular pace, I could answer her. “Honestly, I don’t know. I have an entire safe of them.”

  “What does that mean?” She cocked her head sideways.

  “I didn’t know who else to call. I couldn’t take this in-house. My grandfather kept files on the players. On the staff. Everyone in the organization. I ended up with the safe this morning containing all the dirt he had on them. I don’t know what to do with it.”

  She sighed. “Shit.”

  “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

  “Do you know if there are copies of the files?”

  “I have no idea. This is the first I knew of it.”

  Charlie drilled her long polished nails along the table. The band behind us announced they were taking a break. Their set was over for the lunch crowd.

  “If you want to hire me, Vanessa, I’m going to need to see what’s in there. And that includes the shit on your fiancé.”

  I nodded. I hadn’t brought myself to read through it yet. I was praying I wouldn’t have to. Maybe Charlie could spare me from it. I knew Dylan’s reputation. He never shied from it. He loved to party. He loved women. And there was no question he loved sex.

  “How should I get it to you?” I asked.

  “I can come to the compound later tonight. Does that work?”

  “Sure. I’ll be there. Just tell George at the gate.”

  “Got it.” She rose from the table. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  I watched as she walked out the door. She might be the only chance I had of getting on top of the scandals.

  28

  Vanessa

  I had every intention of going back to the office after my meeting with Charlie, but I couldn’t face the staff, or the players.

  I drove through the main gates of the McCade compound and wound around to the back of the property.

  Zeus was waiting for me at the door.

  “Hey, boy.” I scratched behind his ears. It was close to a hundred degrees. Not necessarily the best time to play ball, but I let him outside to give him a chance to run around.

  I walked to the kitchen and opened the fridge. I needed a glass of chil
led white wine. I closed my eyes, feeling the cold air wash over me. My skin was hot.

  The wine glugged as I poured it into the tall crystal. I pulled open the French doors and stepped onto the patio. I had a reflecting pool that paralleled the length of the living room and kitchen. I turned on the overhead misters and planted myself in the shade.

  The cold wine seemed to cool me from the inside out, while the frosty mist coated my skin. This felt amazing.

  I laughed out loud when Zeus ran toward me, but jumped in the pool instead. I couldn’t blame him. It was Texas hot out here. The kind of heat that made grown men melt.

  Shit. My men were out there in this heat. They had afternoon practice. Isaac had mentioned there were a list of complaints. At the top of the list, under money, was an indoor practice facility. The Warriors were the only team in the league who didn’t have one. Living and playing in Texas made that criminal.

  I watched Zeus make laps in the pool, trying to snatch his tennis ball as it bobbed under the water and then resurfaced in a jerky pop. It didn’t look like he was climbing out any time soon. I wandered back inside, keeping the door cracked for him.

  I refilled my glass, feeling the wine start to soothe me. Being in that bar today and listening to the singers talk about their song writing, their passion, reminded me I had neglected mine. I hadn’t made time for it.

  I took the stairs, feeling the irresistible draw to my studio. My fingers were itching. Tingling almost.

  The corner room upstairs was filled with natural light. I had a special thermostat installed to keep the room at an ideal temperature for my paints and the canvases.

  Even with the sunlight streaming in, it didn’t feel like summer. It was like early spring. Cool and bright.

  I moved from easel to easel. This was all I wanted to do. I wanted to paint. It was what I was trained in. I had studied in Paris and Rome. I had traveled Europe with my grandparents’ blessing because it was what their country club friend’s grandchildren did. To them it seemed young and bohemian. They didn’t take stock in how much I needed the culture and history of Europe in my art.

  My own practice was a combination of all those experiences. Watching great painters. Spending nights staying up all night talking about art. And yes, some of those were incredible romances. Artists that took me to bed. Some who vowed to paint me first, but ended up painting me the morning after. I smiled, picking up a brush.

  My life was on display in my strokes, but you had to know me. Know my soul to see it. I doubted anyone who looked at my work knew what was in front of them.

  I positioned myself on a stool and dabbed the edge of the bristles into the blue water color paint. I brushed it on the easel, focusing on the edges the blue made as it came in contact with the paper. Everything changed when those two things came together.

  The colors blurred and faded. The blues were hazier and yet more vibrant. I dipped the brush again, making another line.

  I felt a part of me start to awaken. A part of me that had been sleeping ever since I was no longer McCade heiress and had become Warriors owner. I could never go back to the girl who locked herself in the studio for hours or wandered from museum to museum. From now on, I owned a team. And I was in the heart of the AFA.

  At some point, the sun started to set. The hues in the room changed to orange and pink. My wine glass was empty, but I kept painting. Zeus had found me and was a sleeping wet mop in the corner on his bed.

  “Vanessa? Darlin’?”

  “George said she was here.”

  I heard Isaac and Dylan’s voices, followed by their footsteps.

  “Holy shit.” They stopped in the doorway.

  I looked up. “Hi.” I smiled meekly.

  “Baby, what are you doing up here?”

  I rubbed my shoulder. I had a kink in my neck from sitting in the same position for hours. I hadn’t stopped for a single break.

  “Working,” I answered.

  “Are you drawing up plays for us?” Dylan teased, walking around the room full of easels.

  They trailed from one painting to the next until they stood behind me.

  I realized they were about to see what I had painted. It bared my soul.

  “Is that?” Isaac crossed his arms, taking it in.

  I nodded. “Do you like it?” I’d never been so nervous about anyone critiquing my work before. But the painting wasn’t only about me. It was us.

  “I’m not going to pretend to know anything about art, but it’s incredible.”

  They were anchored on either side of me, staring at the painting. It was everything about us. Colors of passion. Expression of desire. Tangled and tossed in the wind, just like we were. Holding on for dear life. Grasping at each other to stay grounded in the ecstasy we craved under our skin.

  “I didn’t know how else to explain us,” I whispered.

  Isaac swept the hair from my neck as he lowered his lips to my throat. Dylan covered the other side, dropping to his knees.

  They worked quickly, undressing me. Taking turns, handing me over while one worked a piece of clothing. Their movements were coordinated. Seamless.

  I was wrapped in Dylan’s arms, his mouth hovering over mine, while Isaac spread a drop cloth on the floor.

  “You like my art?” I purred. Dylan pulled one knee toward him, while Isaac gripped the other side and widened my left leg in his direction.

  “Tell us about it, baby,” he dared me. “We’re listening.”

  My breath was already erratic. But I loved having them in my studio. I wanted them to see the painting. I wanted them to know this side of me. The real Vanessa. Not the woman who paraded in the façade of being an owner. This was me. Vulnerable and artistic. Free and creative. A woman who loved colors and vibrancy. A woman who wanted her soul to dictate what she did—not other people.

  My hands lingered over my head. They kissed my legs, inching slower toward my heat.

  “I-I wanted you to see how I feel…ohh…” My head rolled back and forth. Isaac had pushed me toward Dylan so I was lying on my side facing him. He placed my foot on the floor, bending my knee and dove between my legs.

  “Oh shit,” I hissed as he pried my velvety lips and began lapping at my clit.

  “Keep going,” Isaac groaned. “We want to hear about the painting.”

  I panted. My hips jutted forward. Dylan’s tongue swirled, making a figure-eight pattern around my swollen clit. It was on fire.

  “I-I always express myself in my art.” I tried to breath. “And I had to put last night on paper with paint.”

  Isaac sat forward, peeling the T-shirt from his chest before he aligned his body behind mine. He kissed my ear and my neck. His hands plucked my tits, rubbing my nipples until they perked under his command.

  “Maybe we should paint you,” he growled.

  “Do-do you paint?” I gasped.

  Dylan came up for air from between my legs. “I certainly have a creative side, darlin’.” He reached up, taking one of the paint canisters and tossing it to Isaac. Isaac quickly unscrewed the lid, dipping his finger in the blue.

  I stared in disbelief as he began to coat my nipples with the watercolors. I watched the paint droplets pool on my navel.

  “Fuck, she’s gorgeous.”

  “Do that again,” I breathed. I was mesmerized. Hypnotized by how erotic this was.

  Dylan choose another color. This time pink. He tossed the cap on the floor as he began to paint streaks inside my thighs. His fingertips grazed my skin, as I shuddered. He crossed an X over my heat and grinned wickedly.

  He grabbed more colors, dividing the jars with Isaac. They were relentless. Smearing and painting. Stroking my body as if I was their canvas. I arched my back. Rocked my hips. While they watched their masterpiece come to life under their hands.

  I was wild with desire. Eager with anticipation. I rolled on the floor needing their touches. Hungry for more paint. I rocked onto my knees as they painted my back. Isaac’s palm coasted over my botto
m with streaks of pastel yellow.

  “God, look at her, brother.” Isaac sat back on his heels.

  The world floated around me. I was in a state of complete arousal. Drunk with paradise on the horizon. This was my world. My studio. And these were my guys. It might have been crazy, but I knew they were meant only for me.

  “Shit, she’s a Goddess.” Dylan breathed.

  I writhed between them, lost in everything they were giving me. Promising to give me.

  Dylan undressed, throwing his clothes on the floor in a hurry.

  I ran my hands over my nipples, feeling the paint starting to dry, leaving streaks of brilliant colors on my skin. I’d never felt as if I lived in my art. Lived in one of the paintings until now. I kneeled, facing Isaac. His mouth devoured mine, drinking in my lips.

  “Oh, Vanessa.” His voice sounded broken. As if he was falling apart in my arms just as much as I was falling into his.

  I was wet, soaked from Dylan’s tongue. Ripe with my own juices. I felt Dylan’s hand spread between my legs, coating my back side. I tensed for only a second when I felt him circle my ass and dip fingers inside to get me ready.

  “Tonight this is mine, darlin’.”

  I nodded. I leaned into his shoulder as Isaac positioned me on the floor to face him.

  I was nervous. Thrilled to share something new with them again tonight. I didn’t know how Dylan would be. I didn’t know if he would be gentle or lose control like Isaac did.

  I wrapped my hands around Isaac’s neck to prepare for whatever blinding joy came next. He hoisted my leg around his waist, giving them both the perfect angle to enter me. One from the front. The other from the back. Theirs to share. Theirs to fuck into perfect oblivion.

  I hissed when I felt their cocks begin to penetrate. They hovered, stretching and widening me.

  “Oh God,” I whimpered. It was intense. More intense than last night. They were both pushing inside me at the same time.

  “I’ve got you.” Isaac stared in my eyes. I spiraled in the darkness. Lost my footing in the smoldering mystery of his gaze.