Strip Poker: Bad Boys Club Romance #2

by Olivia Thorne

  Oh REALLY.

  We’ll see about that.

  But I didn’t say anything out loud. I just returned to the financial reports.

  He let it drop, and neither of us said anything else for the next twenty minutes.

  92

  So began the War of Passive Aggression.

  For the record, I think he was the one who fired the first shot with the whole I’m having parties with naked hoochies whether you like it or not declaration.

  Was that going to put me in the mood for sex? Unh-unh. No way.

  That night was the first time in over three weeks we didn’t sleep together. I actually decided to leave and go back to my corporate apartment.

  Completely reasonable on my part.

  Vic didn’t see it that way, though.

  “Are you serious?” he complained.

  “Yes.”

  “It’s the end of the 30 days.”

  “I know.”

  “Soooo – you’re just gonna walk out.”

  “I don’t feel like staying tonight, that’s all.”

  “Why, because I’m not going to give in to your every little whim when the 30 days are over?” he asked angrily.

  “Agreeing to stop doing something that disrespects me isn’t the same as giving into my ‘every little whim,’” I snapped.

  “It’s for my IMAGE. I told you that. I’m not going to sleep with anybody else.”

  “What if I decided to go hang out at a male strip club all the time, huh?”

  He snorted. “I’d say if you want to stare at a bunch of gay guys in thongs, go right ahead.”

  “What if they were all straight, and they were hitting on me all the time?”

  He shook his head in exasperation. “Monica, you’re hot. You’re going to have guys hitting on you for the rest of your life.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “It means I’m going to have to deal with you getting hit on by other guys, so you have to deal with this whole thing with the parties and the boat!”

  “It’s not the same thing!” I yelled.

  “Yeah – the chicks and the yacht are business!” he yelled back. “That’s why it’s not the same thing!”

  “I’d like to go now,” I said icily.

  “Fine,” he sneered, and had one of the yacht’s crew members take me to shore in the small speed boat they used for docking.

  That night I tossed and turned for hours.

  Being away from him felt really bad. I didn’t want to admit it, but… I missed him.

  But I have to stand my ground.

  I can’t give in.

  He’ll come around.

  I never asked myself why I even cared if he came around, considering I didn’t think there was long-term potential there.

  All I knew is that we were locked in combat – and I wasn’t going to lose.

  93

  The next morning when I got back to the yacht, he was lounging on a deck chair.

  Drunk.

  At 9AM.

  “Are you kidding me?” I snapped as I stepped over the empty bottles littering the deck.

  “Helloooooo, Monica,” he said, and saluted me with his beer.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Reasserting my manhood,” he slurred.

  “By getting drunk?”

  “Since I said I wouldn’t bang anybody else… sure.”

  By now I was boiling over with anger. “We have an important meeting at noon.”

  “Fuck the meeting.”

  “This isn’t going to go over well with your uncles.”

  “Fuck them, too. I did enough for those bastards the last few weeks. Fuck ‘em all.”

  “Just because the 30 days are over doesn’t mean you have to become an asshole.”

  “I dunno – seems like the perfect opportunity to me. Besides, I thought you were into assholes.”

  “Stop behaving like a child and – ”

  He interrupted me angrily. “You just LOVE fuckin’ nagging me, don’t you?”

  I stopped, surprised by the vehemence in his voice.

  When I answered, my voice was measured but cold. “No, actually, I hate it.”

  “Then what do you want?!”

  “I want you to grow up.”

  “No, you want me to be the perfect little fuckin’ puppet you want me to be.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  He nodded and took another swig. “I think you do.”

  “I want you to stop being a man-child and be a man.”

  “Why? So you can parade me around and show everybody how you broke me?”

  “No.”

  “Why, then?”

  I gave him the most honest answer I could. “You have so much potential, Vic – but you’re completely wasting it.”

  “Now you sound like my high school guidance counselor.”

  “I doubt you listened to her, either.”

  “Actually, I never had a high school guidance counselor – so please, tell me more,” he sneered. “Give me guidance.”

  I thought about just leaving – but then I decided, No, dammit, I’ve got something to say.

  “You want to buy or gamble or talk your way into getting things instead of working for them,” I said. “You want to drink and party instead of building anything lasting or worthwhile. You’re happy to help other people achieve their dreams, but you don’t even bother with any dreams of your own. You’re just talk, talk, talk. You could change the world if you put your mind to it – but before that, you’ve got to change yourself… and that’s the one thing you don’t seem willing to do.”

  “Bravo – nice speech,” he said, doing a slow clap with his hands. “Now you sound like everybody in my life when I was a teenager.”

  “Maybe they were telling you the truth.”

  “Or maybe they wanted me to conform to their stupid, boring way of living!” He pounded his chest with one fist. “I live out every man’s fantasy. I’ve got the life all those hypocritical idiots wish they could live.”

  My next words surprised me by how sad they made me feel. “Well… maybe I’m getting in the way of that fantasy.”

  That changed his tune.

  “Oh, give me a fuckin’ break,” he sulked. “Don’t be like that.”

  “No – if it’s more important to you to have a thousand half-naked sluts around, instead of the woman who cares for you – ”

  “‘Cares’ for me? Wow. So passionate.”

  “You know how I feel about you,” I said.

  He grinned, but it wasn’t his usual playful smile. There was something dark there, instead. “I thought you hated me.”

  He was toying with me, bringing up that night on the boat in Ibiza.

  At the time, I hadn’t been able to say the words I really felt. I hadn’t been able to acknowledge my true feelings, not even to myself.

  At least I knew what those feelings were now. At least now I could acknowledge them… even if they scared the hell out of me.

  But I still couldn’t say them out loud.

  “You know the truth,” I said quietly.

  “Do I?” he asked, and stood up from his chair so he could look me in the face.

  “Yes. You do.”

  “So say it,” he challenged me.

  I stood there, my body trembling.

  This is what it all came down to, wasn’t it?

  This was why I hadn’t ended things earlier, even when I’d convinced myself we had no future together.

  Otherwise, why not end it now? It was the perfect opportunity. He was being a total jackass.

  I wanted to tell him to go fuck himself. I wanted to walk away. Hell, I wanted to run.

  But something kept me rooted to the spot: a single ray of hope.

  Maybe if I say it, all this ugliness can stop… and we can go back to the way we were.

  “I love you,” I said.

  I didn’t say it tenderly, and I didn’t say it like a H
ollywood starlet would in a romantic movie… but I said it. I said it the best way I could in that moment.

  He seemed taken aback for a second, like he hadn’t actually thought I would go through with it.

  There was a second when I thought the walls he’d built would come tumbling down, and he’d lean in like he had in Ibiza, and he would whisper it back to me before he kissed me.

  But no.

  Rather than be vulnerable like I’d just done, he doubled down on being a jackass.

  “You sound real convincing,” he said sarcastically.

  Pain hit my heart like a blow from an ax.

  “Maybe I find it hard to say to a guy who doesn’t love me back,” I said.

  “I love you,” he said, though he sounded defensive, like Yeah I do.

  “You sure don’t act like it,” I said coldly.

  “JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!” he roared, and threw his beer bottle at the deck, startling me. “There you go again, busting my balls!”

  “I just want you to…” No, fuck this. I’d opened up, and he’d returned it with his snide little comment. “Never mind.”

  He turned back and snarled, “What? Want me to what?!”

  I thought for a second.

  What did I really want from him, more than anything else?

  To tell me he loved me?

  To make some grand romantic gesture?

  No…

  I knew what I wanted most. It’s what I’d always wanted him to do.

  “Grow up,” I said.

  I could tell he was offended. He clenched his jaw for a second, then smiled sarcastically. “Not gonna happen.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” I said, and walked back down to the boat that brought me from the shore.

  “Monica,” he called angrily.

  I kept walking down the gangplank towards the speedboat.

  “Monica!” he yelled.

  I gestured to the dock hand, who had been trying to keep out of the way. “Please take me back.”

  The crew member nodded once, his face ashen, and jumped in the boat.

  “MONICA!” Vic bellowed.

  If he shouted again, I didn’t hear him over the roar of the engine.

  And I never looked back.

  94

  Later that afternoon, I sat in the boardroom across from my two bosses.

  Sal Cortelian regarded me with his watery, reptilian eyes. “I must say, things were remarkably peaceful with Vic for the last month… but as of this morning… not so much.”

  I felt on edge. I wanted to make up some antiseptic lie to explain away everything – but if I told them something untrue, it could come back to bite me in the ass later. The best I could manage was, “Things are probably about to get even less peaceful.”

  “So you’ve lost control of him?”

  “You could say that.”

  Sal smiled in a way that made my skin crawl. “So, your sexual wiles weren’t enough to rein him in, eh?”

  I stared at him in shock. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Did you think we didn’t know? Please,” Frank spoke up. “We know everything.”

  “We don’t fault you for it. It was a remarkably effective measure, while it lasted,” Sal said.

  Anger flared inside me, but I kept my voice calm. “I didn’t sleep with him to ‘control’ him.”

  “So you slept with him because you… what, were attracted to him? Developed feelings for him?” Sal sneered.

  I wanted to tell him to go to hell, and be sure to fuck himself on the way there.

  But then I thought of the hospice in Newark, and decided I wanted to keep my job more.

  “…not at first. But later, yes.”

  “I see,” he said, and I could almost hear the unspoken How disappointing. “And how do you feel now?”

  “…it’s over between us.” As I said it, pain jabbed my chest, like somebody had stuck a sewing needle in my heart.

  “Then you can be professional and cut all ties with him if need be?” Sal asked.

  As long as I keep my position and my salary? “Yes.”

  “Good. I’m glad to hear that, because we’ve decided to assign you to a new investing partner.”

  I frowned. “What about keeping Vic under control?”

  “Well, I’d say that any control you had over him is probably nonexistent now, correct?”

  “We’ll worry about Vic,” Frank said. “You worry about the new partner.”

  “And who is that?”

  “Domenico Arias.”

  Oh my God.

  “You can’t,” I blurted out.

  “Why not?” Frank asked.

  “Vic hates him,” I said. “It’ll be like you’re stabbing him in the back.”

  Frank shrugged. “Oh well – the deal’s more or less done. He’ll be signing the papers tomorrow.”

  I got a sinking feeling. “Is this something you negotiated while Vic and I were in Europe?”

  “Of course.” Sal smiled in a way I could only describe as diabolical. “We couldn’t have Vic around and find out about it, now could we?”

  I felt sick. I’d participated, however unknowingly, in them screwing Vic over.

  “This is going to enrage him,” I said.

  “Not your problem anymore. You’ll fly to New York tomorrow, where Mr. Arias is based. He’s expecting you.”

  “And what am I supposed to do, exactly?”

  “Tomorrow is essentially a meet-and-greet. You’ll be pleasant, make a good impression, and he’ll sign the documents. Going forward, you’ll be our liaison in all dealings with his firm. You’ll move to New York City in the coming weeks, after we train you in a few more departments you’ll need to interface with here.”

  “Why me?”

  “Because he requested you specifically.”

  Great.

  I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “I think you should know that he and I have… something of a history.”

  “What, did you sleep with him, too?” Sal asked sarcastically.

  “No,” I said, irritated. “But he wants to.”

  “Even better. Tempt him with the goods.”

  “EXCUSE me?”

  “Oh please,” Sal said in a bored voice. “What, are you going to threaten a sexual harassment lawsuit? After all, you did sleep with one of our employees already. And on a bet, no less.”

  Ugh.

  When he put it like that…

  “No,” I said carefully, “no threats… but I would prefer that the tone of our discussion be more respectful.”

  “We’re not saying to sleep with him,” Frank interjected, as though that constituted respect.

  “Not at all,” Sal agreed. “But any hold you might develop over Arias would be… advantageous.”

  I felt slimy even being in the same room with these two scumbags.

  But all I could think of was how Vic would react if he could hear this.

  Make that when he heard about it.

  I shook my head. “I’m asking you to reconsider this. Vic is going to go ballistic.”

  “As I said, not your problem. Or… is it?” Sal asked. “I would have thought you would be pleased about moving to New York. After all, it’s so much closer to your father in Newark, yes?”

  Bastard.

  “But maybe I’m mistaken,” Sal said as he held my gaze with his cold, merciless eyes. “Perhaps you still have some allegiance to Vic? Some remaining affection that overrides your own self-interest?”

  “…no,” I said, though I was pretty sure I was lying.

  “Then go to New York and seal the deal for us,” Frank said.

  And collect my 30 pieces of silver afterwards, I thought bitterly as I left the room.

  95

  I had a choice to make.

  Keep quiet and not jeopardize my job, or go and tell Vic?

  I wrestled with the decision for about 30 seconds.

  I actually did worry quite a bit about losing my job… but I
wanted to be able to sleep at night.

  So I drove back down to the marina and called the first mate for a boat.

  “Just catch one of the ones ferrying people out,” he told me.

  ‘Ferrying people out’?

  Once I got to the docks, the first thing I noticed was the sheer number of boats shuttling out into the bay. At least three or four I could see, all of them taking five or six people at a time.

  A lot of them very attractive women.

  I seethed in irritation as I got onboard with a group of airhead models who kept talking about Vic’s absence on Instagram, and how great it was he was ‘back at it.’

  I checked his account on my phone.

  Hey hot ladies – in the SF area and want to party? Hit my social media team up, I’m coming back out in style!

  There was a picture of him, barechested and grinning, surrounded by equally barechested women.

  I wanted to kill him.

  I leave this morning, and the asshole is already lining up his next fifteen conquests?

  I just wanted to go back to my room and let him hang himself with his own rope.

  But some part of me knew he was doing this because he was upset about me walking out.

  I could either be a petulant child and let his uncles plot behind his back… or I could take the high road and warn him, no matter how much of an asshole he was trying to be.

  I really, really wanted to be a petulant child.

  But I kept thinking back to what he’d said about my father: You should talk to my uncles. They could probably help out with the insurance or payments or something. I could talk to them for you, if you want… and… you know… I mean, I’ve got some extra cash lying around. I could loan you some if you need it.

  For the sake of that guy, I went to the yacht.

  96

  The party was in full swing. There was a higher ratio of guys to women than normal, but there were still plenty of women. Most in various states of undress.

  When I walked on board, he saw me immediately. He broke off from the group he was playing beer pong with and walked over to meet me.

  He was shirtless, and his rippling muscles were on perfect display – which made it hard to look him in the eyes.