Strip Poker: Bad Boys Club Romance #2

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Strip Poker: Bad Boys Club Romance #2 Page 26

by Olivia Thorne


  Focus, damn it…

  “What are you doin’ back here?” he shouted over the music. He smelled like hard liquor now instead of beer.

  “We need to talk.”

  “Ohhhhh, we need to ‘talk.’” He smiled smugly. “I knew you’d come back. They all come back, eventually.”

  UGH.

  “Well, not this time,” I snarled.

  “You’re here, aren’t you?”

  “Not for the reason you think. Can we go somewhere private where I don’t have to scream?”

  “If we go somewhere private, I think you’ll end up screaming anyway,” he joked. “My name, at least. Probably ‘Oh God,’ too.”

  “Fuck off,” I snapped, and turned to go.

  He caught my arm. “Alright, alright – come on, we’ll go inside.”

  I turned back and looked at him, ready to tell him to go fuck himself –

  But I swear I saw a hint of something in his eyes.

  Hurt, maybe.

  Longing, definitely.

  I hesitated… then relented. He let go of my arm, and I followed him up the ramp, through a sea of writhing, half-naked flesh, and into the interior of the boat.

  97

  In the quiet of his bedroom there was relief from the pounding music outside.

  But no relief from the memories of all the passionate nights I’d spent in his bed, just ten feet away.

  I tried not to look at it, only at him.

  He retrieved a bottle of expensive scotch and held it up. You want any?

  I shook my head, then said coldly, “Well, you didn’t waste any time.”

  “Somebody broke up with me,” he retorted as he poured out a glass. “Thought I’d have a good time rather than mope.”

  “So you decided to go sleep with a few models to get back on the horse?” I asked bitterly.

  “Not yet.”

  I have to admit, my heart skipped a beat when he said that – Not yet.

  Normally that wasn’t anything to rejoice about. Especially when you just broke up with a guy eight hours before.

  But considering there were a hundred floozies outside the door who would gladly bed down with him in a second… it was something.

  However, I wasn’t about to be vulnerable around this guy. Not when his reaction to our breakup was to go surround himself with naked women.

  “Why not?” I asked sarcastically. “Too many choices?”

  “Only one I wanted.”

  He continued to shock me – and he wasn’t joking. No normal Vic grins or bullshitting. He just looked at me square in the eyes as he said it.

  “All you had to do to keep me was not do… this,” I said, gesturing outside at the party.

  “No, that was just the first part of the price,” he said bitterly. “There was a lot more coming.”

  That made me angry. “If you would have just been respectful of me and – ”

  “What are you doing here?” he interrupted.

  I forced myself to focus on the matter at hand. “I just had a meeting with your uncles.”

  “So?”

  “So you need to be careful. I think they’re plotting something.”

  He took a contemplative sip of his scotch, then asked, “What?”

  I didn’t want to drop Domenico’s name quite yet, so I said, “I’m not exactly sure.”

  “But they want your help.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I’ll ask you again: why the fuck are you here?”

  “I told you, they’re – ”

  “That tells me what they’re planning to do. I want to know why you came out here to tell me.”

  “I didn’t know you were having a party,” I sneered, “or I wouldn’t have.”

  “Whatever. You knew what was going on as soon as you got to the marina. So why’d you come?”

  “What was I supposed to do?”

  “You could have called.”

  “I think you would have been busy,” I said snarkily.

  “You could have left a voicemail – but you didn’t. So why are you here?”

  I stood there for a moment in silence… and then I realized, if I wanted to be truthful, I had no choice but to tell him.

  “Because I care about you.”

  “Oh, DO you,” he said sarcastically.

  “Yeah, I do, although I have to ask myself why when you’re acting like an asshole.”

  “I thought that’s what you liked. Assholes.”

  “No,” I said, “Katie was right about the bad boy thing. I like that you don’t care what anybody else thinks about you. I like it when you’re your own man. When you play by your own rules. That’s not you being an asshole, that’s just you doing your thing.”

  “Well, I’m playing by my own rules now.”

  “No, you’re being a whiny little bitch,” I snapped.

  “Fuck you.”

  “No, fuck you. I came here to warn you that they’re going to replace you, and all you can do is – ”

  He frowned. “Replace me? With who?”

  I took a deep breath before I answered.

  “…Domenico Arias.”

  His eyes opened wide. “You gotta be kidding me.”

  “No.”

  “Those ASSHOLES,” he seethed, then stared at me. “And what do they want you to do?”

  “Fly to New York and start working with him.”

  He just stood there, his mouth slightly open. It was the only time I’d ever seen him speechless.

  His reaction brought up softer feelings inside me. Suddenly I didn’t want to fight anymore. I definitely didn’t want to hurt him anymore.

  “Vic…” I said gently.

  By then he’d recovered his poker face. “Well… how nice for you,” he said coldly.

  “I don’t want to do it.”

  He gave me a vicious, sarcastic smile. “But you’re going to.”

  “It’s my job.”

  “Oh, yeah… it’s not your fault they MAKE you do these things. You don’t have any control.”

  I bristled. “It’s not like that.”

  “Oh – so if you’re not a puppet, you must be a good little Nazi, just following orders.”

  That got under my skin.

  “Fuck you! You think you’ve got problems?! I’m watching my father die, inch by inch! I’m buried under student loans, and now my brothers are screaming for me to help out with my dad’s medical bills! But your life is sooooo HARD because you don’t get to be drunk 24/7 and go around on a boat all the time with topless tramps, right? Go fuck yourself.”

  He grabbed my arm. “Hey – hey, wait – I’m sorry,” he said gently.

  “No you’re not – let go of me – ”

  “Come here.”

  “NO – ”

  “Come here.”

  “STOP – ”

  But he wouldn’t let go.

  So I slapped him hard across the face.

  He let go of me, stunned. Then the slightest hint of a smile turned up his lips. “The last time you did that, we ended up in bed.”

  “Believe me, that ship has sailed.”

  He stepped slightly closer. “…did it?”

  “Yes,” I said vehemently. “It’s gone.”

  He looked at me in silence for a long moment. When he finally spoke, he was sincere. “Where’d we go wrong, Monica?”

  “Oh, I don’t know – maybe when you decided you wanted to be around naked gold-diggers more than you wanted to be with me.”

  His smile faded and he said coldly, “Or maybe at the part where you wanted me to hand over my balls and not be me anymore.”

  “Asking you to respect me is not trying to get you to hand over your balls.”

  “I respect you.”

  “Right.”

  “I do!” he protested.

  “Yeah, well, when you go to bed for the first time on a bet, it doesn’t make for the best beginning of a relationship.”

  He burst out laughing. I couldn
’t contain my own smile – it felt so good to break out of this angry, tit-for-tat arguing and just be together.

  And then he ruined it.

  He gestured towards the bed and gave me a sly smile. “What do you say? One more time, for old time’s sake?”

  Everything inside me went cold. “That’s what you think of me?” I asked haughtily. “Just another fuck, ‘for old time’s sake’?”

  He groaned. “Nooo… come on. I miss you. I miss us.”

  “Yeah, I do, too. But I didn’t use it as an excuse to try to get a cheap lay.”

  Any hint of warmth or vulnerability vanished from his face. “Yeah… you’ve got your job to think of now. You’re finished fucking me, now you only have time to fuck me over.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “I hate you.”

  He smirked. “You said that another time. We ended up fucking then, too.”

  I shook my head in disgust. “Grow up, Vic.”

  “Is this the part where you say, ‘You could do so much with your life, and you’re just pissing it away’?”

  “No, this is the part where I say go fuck whoever you want, since that’s apparently all you care about. Or maybe you should just go fuck yourself, since that’s the only person you care about.”

  I walked out of the bedroom, back into the roaring maelstrom of the party, and down to the deck where I caught the next boat back to the marina.

  He didn’t follow me out this time. Didn’t even try to stop me.

  For the first time since I’d met him, I cried – all the way back to the marina.

  98

  Vic

  I got so angry and depressed after she left that I shut everything down. Ordered the captain and first mate to send everybody packing.

  Well… actually, I waited an hour after Monica was gone so she wouldn’t know that I’d canceled the party. But after that, I had them shut it down.

  I hid out in my bedroom the entire time. Outside, I could hear the shocked voices when the music cut off and the captain made the announcement that everyone was going to have to leave.

  “What?”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Where the hell is Vic?”

  There were lots of calls for me to come out, but I ignored them. I was in no mood to deal with a bunch of freeloaders’ bullshit.

  It took two hours for the crew to ferry everybody off the yacht and back to the marina. So for two hours I sat in my room by myself, drank, and brooded.

  Domenico?!

  SERIOUSLY?!

  Those motherfucking assholes… not only had my uncles been practically stealing from me for years, but now they were going to straight-out stab me in the back.

  At least Monica had come to warn me. That was actually pretty huge.

  But I’d driven her away.

  Jesus, Vic… couldn’t you have kept your big mouth shut for once?

  Now she was headed for New York… straight into that Italian asshole’s arms.

  I knew what he would do. He’d charm her, and seduce her, and before you knew it, she’d be in his bed –

  GODDAMMIT.

  I couldn’t deal with that. It drove me absolutely insane with jealousy.

  It was a weird feeling. I mean, I haven’t felt jealous in years. Probably since I was a teenager.

  No woman was ever worth it. I’d bang a chick for a couple of nights, then cut her loose. Oh, she went on to sleep with so-and-so?

  Didn’t care. I was already on to the third or fourth new chick by then, and couldn’t care less what the one from a week ago was doing.

  But Monica…

  Just the idea of that fucking asshole’s hands on her…

  Or any asshole’s hands on her…

  It enraged me.

  Felt like some kind of demon was gnawing at my guts.

  I think I was half a bottle of scotch in before I got my big idea:

  Get her back.

  But I wasn’t going to do it by calling her up, or sending her flowers, or whatever the hell regular guys did to get their chicks back.

  No… I was going big, or going home.

  I found my cell phone and fumbled drunkenly through the contact list.

  It was 9PM here, so midnight on the East Coast…

  Not a problem. He’d be awake.

  Assuming he was on the East Coast.

  He answered on the fourth ring. Didn’t sound groggy.

  “Vic?”

  “Derek!” I said happily. “How’s it goin’, man?”

  “Ah, you know, just chilling after recording all day. What’s up?”

  “You and the band doin’ anything tomorrow night?”

  “Uh… no, nothing big… might go drinking in downtown Athens… why?”

  “You know that crazy concert we’re always talking about doing?”

  “Yeah? What about it?”

  “How’d you like to do it tomorrow night in New York City?”

  99

  Monica

  I flew out of San Francisco the next morning. The entire time, the only thing I could think about was Vic.

  I obsessed over the last twenty-four hours in particular. The first fight, when I’d walked off the boat… the fight last night… and all the amazing things about our relationship that were gone, poof, just like that.

  It’s not entirely true that Vic was the only thing I thought about. I also considered Domenico, and what might happen over the next few days –

  But I always returned to Vic and how it would tear him up that I would be working closely (and probably fending off advances from) his worst enemy.

  I wondered nervously if he’d already stormed into his uncles’ office and told them off yet. As soon as the plane landed, I checked my voicemails, dreading the message that would fire me for betraying my bosses’ confidence…

  But there was nothing at all.

  I took a cab to my five-star hotel and checked in about 3PM. After freshening up a little, I took another taxi to the building where Domenico’s office was – up on the 82nd floor.

  An assistant escorted me in to his office with its astounding view of Central Park. Domenico was working at his desk when we walked in.

  He smiled as soon as he saw me – a dark, self-satisfied smile. The smile of a cruel Roman general who had vanquished his barbarian enemy.

  “Ah, Ms. Ames. A pleasure to see you again,” he said as he stood behind his desk.

  I reached out across the desk and shook his hand. “Very nice to see you again, too. Well, I thought maybe we should start with – ”

  When I tried to withdraw my hand, he held on to it just a few seconds longer than what was necessary. “No need to hurry. There is no rush.”

  “Well, you’re a busy man – ”

  “I am a powerful man. And the nice thing about that is, I decide when to make other people work faster… and when to take time for myself and the pleasures of life.”

  The way he said ‘pleasures’ was almost indecent.

  His self-confidence, his smoldering presence, flustered me a little. “Uh… okay, well…”

  “What have you done in New York before?” he asked.

  “Mostly business.”

  “Have you ever eaten at Gironde?”

  “I don’t even know what that is.”

  “It is not only the best food in all of New York City, it has an incredible view. On the upper deck of the restaurant, you can not only see Central Park, but the Hudson River as well.”

  “Sounds incredible.”

  “You will be my guest tonight. 8 o’clock.”

  “…oh… I can’t…”

  “Why not?” he asked, his brow furrowing the slightest bit. “Do you have something better to do?”

  “No, I just… don’t know that it’s a good idea to mix business and pleasure.”

  His expression was halfway between a smile and a smirk. “Who said we would be inserting pleasure into the mix?”

  “Well, your previous ‘overtures’ more or less
led me to believe that.”

  “That was before. This is now. Things shall remain strictly business.”

  I hesitated. “I…”

  “I am afraid I must insist.”

  The power in his voice and the look in his eyes were those of a man who was never, ever turned down.

  Why wouldn’t I go, anyway?

  Out of concern for an ex who threw a party the day we broke up?

  “Well, if you insist… alright. Shall we talk business now, then?” I asked.

  “By all means,” he said, and gestured for me to sit in a plush leather chair opposite his desk. “Let us start with Bradley Middleton.”

  100

  Vic

  The barge I’d rented was sitting right smack dab in the middle of the Hudson, about two thousand feet from either shore.

  I stood on the deck and looked all around me. Twenty concert techs were rushing frantically, putting all sorts of lights and audio equipment in place.

  This might actually come together, I thought.

  “How the hell did you get all the permits for this so quick?” a familiar voice asked behind me.

  I turned to see Derek, who had apparently just come aboard.

  I grinned as I hugged him. “It’s amazing what you can do when you agree to donate a million dollars to the policemen’s and the firemen’s pension funds.”

  He laughed. “I’ll have to remember that.”

  “How’s it goin’?”

  “Pretty wild. Last night I was chilling at the house; today I’m about to have an impromptu concert in the middle of the Hudson River.”

  “Life of a rock star.”

  “And an internet star, too, apparently. Question for you.”

  “What?”

  “Everybody will be able to hear us, right? Seeing as they can’t get any closer than a quarter mile away?”

  “Everybody. We’ve got the same speaker set-up you use for stadiums, times two – one aimed at the New York side, the other aimed at New Jersey.”

  “Damn,” he said, impressed. “Too bad they won’t be able to see us.”

  “Oh, they’ll be able to see you,” I assured him. “We’re going to put up a massive fog bank behind you and project concert footage on it, same as you would project onto film screens at a concert in the 80’s.”

 

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