by Angel Devlin
“H- how?”
“Camera attached to my shirt pocket. I quite often have hidden cameras or microphones on me. Helps awfully with the job. Anyway, you send Karla anything and I’ll send her that. Show her what kind of friend you are.”
“What do you want?” I snap.
“You. At my beck and call. Now I’ll ask you again. Do you want to play?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Not really. Right, so what do you want me to do with your friend? Shall I just not turn up, or shall I go fuck her?”
I sigh. “Turn up, buy her a meal, bring her home to the door, kiss her, and leave.” I cringe at the thought of him putting his lips on her.
“Deal. I’ll tell you what I want in return in due course.”
He ends the call and I sit on my bed with my head between my knees, wondering what the hell is happening and why Deacon King is doing this to me.
I go through my photos again, but I don’t know what on them could have made him so angry. It’s just photos of my family and friends. I kick all the cushions off my bed in frustration. What does he want from me? I know now that I’m not going to get a wink of sleep tonight, at least not until Karla is home safely.
My phone pings.
Karla: He’s here finally! Worth the wait! Being very attentive and charming and so apologetic. He’s brought me a huge bouquet of flowers to say sorry!
I reluctantly type back a reply:
Mia: Thank goodness. Well, have a good time.
Karla: I hope so ;)
A couple of hours pass in what seems like extreme slow motion while I wait for the door to be unlocked. Finally, I hear loud giggles and walk out into the hallway to see Karla almost fall through the door, Deacon standing behind her.
He looks amazing, in a crisp, pale blue shirt; and dark blue slacks. And completely sober, unlike my friend.
“Hi, you had a good time?” I ask her, ignoring Deacon.
“So far, so good.” Karla giggles. “Don’t you have a room to go back to?” She wiggles her eyes in a ‘get out of here’ gesture.
“Just wanted to make sure it was you letting yourself in, although the giggles should have given it away.” I turn to leave.
“Actually, Karla, I have an early appointment tomorrow. I told you I couldn’t stay,” Deacon says, his eyes meeting mine. Silent communication comes through a slight narrowing, telling me that we’re playing his game and he’s now doing what I asked him… leaving. Though I told him to kiss her.
Karla pouts. “I thought you were teasing me when you said you couldn’t stay.”
He shakes his head. “No, darlin’, this is teasing you.”
He backs her up to the wall, his hands on her shoulders and then his hand comes up under her chin. He tilts her head back, leans down, and fastens his mouth on hers. Her lips open hungrily, meeting his demands on them. Then he breaks the kiss and steps away.
“Goodnight, Karla. Thank you for a lovely evening.” He winks at my friend who’s been rendered speechless.
Then he turns to look at me. “Night, Mia.” That bastard smirk lifts his upper lip.
“You’ll call me?” Having found her voice, Karla sounds desperate and needy once again.
“Oh, I’ll be in touch,” he replies, his eyes skirting quickly to mine. She’s so ecstatic she doesn’t even realise his attention is no longer on her.
Then he’s gone. Karla sighs, touching her lips. “Well, I’m off to bed to dream of that kiss all night long.” She wanders off into her bedroom, leaving me standing there.
My phone pings.
Deacon: I did what you asked. Now it’s my turn. I’ll be in touch.
I don’t know what he’s aiming to achieve with the game he’s playing, but as a frisson of excitement passes through my body, I doubt that’s the reaction he’ll have been hoping for.
When you’ve spent your life hearing everyone say yes to everything your heart desires, then when someone isn’t dancing to your tune, it’s more than a little exciting. Even if Deacon seems dangerous, he has me intrigued. I’m like a child wondering whether fire really is hot to the touch, getting dangerously close to the heat.
Chapter Nine
Deacon
I went straight to XCluSiv last night. I’m not sure I’ve ever needed a drink so much in my life than after having to endure hours of Karla and her incessant, mindless chatter. I’ll admit that I’d stereotyped Mia before I met her, and stepsister issue aside, I was pleasantly surprised that she wasn’t as I expected her to be. Her best friend is though. She’s exactly that person I dreaded meeting and she has this weird infatuation with me, which although helpful with my quest, is fucking infuriating. She’s got stage five clinger written all over her and usually I stay well away from them.
The alarm on my phone wakes me the next morning and the effects of last night’s alcohol make themselves known in the form of a low thud at my temples.
Only Tyler and Oliver were there last night. I’ve no idea where Anthony and Jack were; probably fucking some poor, unexpecting souls who’ve no idea the brand of fucked up we all wear like an invisible badge. They all like to claim that I’m the worst, and to be fair, I’m not about to argue that fact, but they’re all pretty screwed up in their own way.
Tyler spent almost all night banging on about this new intern in his department. On a normal day I’d be interested. Our little game of breaking our interns in to see if they cut it or not is usually one of my favourite games. But right now, I’ve got a better game on the table. One which is going to lead me to my final prize. My father put yet another family before our own and for that; for how he has played my mother, he will fucking pay. If it has indeed been a happy family with everyone acting like he shits unicorns and rainbows, I will fucking ruin it all.
Shaking thoughts of that arsehole from my mind, I grab my phone from the middle of the bed where I must have dropped it last night when I crashed.
Turning the irritating alarm off, I squint at the screen to see why it’s waking me up at… fuck, nine am on the first Saturday of the month.
Breakfast with my mother.
Knowing she won’t accept that I went out last night as an excuse for missing our monthly date, I drag myself out of bed and stumble towards the shower.
There’s a car waiting out the front for me when I step through the doors and I climb in, resting my head back as we make the slow arse journey through the city to my mother’s restaurant of choice.
She chooses where, I pay the bill after. It’s kind of our thing. She tells me that I work too much and don’t see her enough, so this is our compromise.
Unsurprisingly, she’s already seated and waiting for me with a mimosa on the table in front of her.
“Deacon, what time do you call this?” Her smile tells me that she’s not truly mad, she just loves giving me grief.
“I’m sorry, my alarm didn’t go off,” I lie, accepting her embrace when she opens her arms for me. After dropping a kiss to her forehead, we take our seats.
“An Americano, please,” I say when a waiter stops at our table.
“You look tired,” Mum says, studying me from across the table.
“Working hard and partying harder,” I say with a wink, reaching for the menu.
“And to think I was hoping you were going to say you’d met someone. Will I ever get to watch you get married?” She sighs.
We have this every time we meet. She also gets the same response from me, but it doesn’t seem to stop her holding out hope.
“Unlikely.”
“There goes my dream of living a happily ever after through you.” She’s joking. She says the same thing or something similar every time I see her, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t see the sadness that darkens her eyes.
I’d give anything for her to meet a decent guy, but it seems that no matter what my father does, she just can’t shift him. Even after all these years and all the pain he’s caused, he still holds a little piece of her heart in
his hands. He could have divorced her years ago and set her free, but the bastard keeps that tie knowing full well he can turn up whenever he likes, and although his arrival might be frosty, she’ll always allow him back in.
I love my mother for her big heart and forgiving nature; it’s sure helped me out over the years when I’ve fucked up, but it’s also her downfall. Falling in love with my father was her biggest mistake, although she claims she can’t regret it because he gave her me. Statements like that make me want to remove her rose-tinted glasses because if she knew the half of it, I’m sure she wouldn’t be so proud.
I remember when I was thirteen or fourteen. My father confessed to our mother that he had another kid. He made it out like it had been a one-night stand, but I know from Scott now exactly what his relationship with his mum was like. He told her the same as he told my mother. Except for my mother managed to get a bigger portion of his time. No doubt because she was richer. Of course, my mum forgave him. Said everyone could make a mistake and no doubt the other woman had led him on.
My father decided it would be a great idea to get Scott and I together. He mistakenly thought that with our small age gap we could be brothers of some kind. My father’s not a stupid man, so to this day I can’t think what possessed him to think that I could ever be friends, let anyone a brother, to the boy whose mother had stolen my father and caused so much trouble. It’s not Scott’s fault he was born. I’m fully aware that he’s as innocent in all of this as I am, but it still meant I was going to hate him no matter what. Something that has only recently changed since he started his own family.
That weekend was probably the worst weekend of my life as my father forced me to pretend that we were a family and took us out to a theme park, thinking it would help us bond. No such fucking luck. I tolerated the entire weekend, but only for my mother’s sake. She already had enough shit to deal with without me showing Scott just how I felt about him with my fists.
“So what’s new?” Mum asks like she always does, hoping to find out a little more about my elusive life. I don’t keep her out intentionally, it’s just the way I’m wired. I don’t let people in easily, something that I know frustrates her and is the reason she thinks I’ve never had a steady girlfriend. She could very well be right.
I tell her the basics about what’s been happening at work and give her a very brief update about the others but I don’t go into much detail.
She returns the favour by telling me about her life. My mum used to be a socialite who spent large amounts of my childhood arranging charity fundraisers. Once dad bled her dry of funds, she became an event planner. She talks about her close friends and their nights out. I listen like I should but I’m unable to get excited about anything.
“Any word from Dad?” I ask. Her eyes widen in shock because I never usually bring him up.
“Um… no, not for a while. Why?” she asks sceptically. I forget that she’s my mother and can read me better than anyone.
“I thought I saw him the other day,” I lie.
“Don’t tell me; he had a new woman on his arm,” she spits, downing her mimosa in one.
“Yeah, actually. I recognised her though. I think she’s a famous ex-beauty queen.”
Mum rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t say anything to make me think she knows about Anna-Maria. The waiter comes over to take our orders, and the second he leaves Mom changes the subject. She’s so fed up of his antics over the years that she’s given up trying to keep track of him, not that I can blame her.
Our breakfast is great and although I think my mum doesn’t believe I enjoy our mornings together, she’d be wrong. She’s no idea that I do what I do so she can continue to live the life my father should have given her. When B.A.D. first started making decent money, I bought her a new house before I bought one for myself. I upgraded her car, and generally just allowed her to live a little easier seeing as she’d eaten through a huge chunk of her money putting me through university before dad blew through the rest.
When our time comes to an end, we part in a similar way to how every breakfast finishes, with her begging me to come and visit, to be in touch between now and this time next month. Like always, I tell her I’ll try, but we both know it probably won’t happen. Yeah, I feel bad about it, but I’m a busy guy with a business to run and now a girl to torment.
Sliding into the back of my car, the driver immediately sets off in the direction of the office and I pull my phone from my pocket.
I did a little research with Karla last night and she quite happily spewed every bit of information I wanted about their reality show. I couldn’t keep my lips from curling up when she’d told me who the producer was. My path had crossed with Tara in the past, and not just in a working environment. There’s no way she’ll turn me down. Not if I give her a hint that there could be second helpings.
Scrolling through my contacts, I find hers and hit call. I know they’re starting filming today but I’m still confident she’ll answer.
“King, what do you want?” she barks, trying to take charge of this conversation.
“Good morning to you too. I’m having a wonderful day, thank you for asking.”
She huffs and I smile into the phone. I love riling women up. “I’m working. Is this going to be quick?”
“It is and I think you’ll be thanking me in the end, maybe even on your knees.”
“I very much doubt that, but go on…”
I give her a quick rundown on what I’ve found out about Mia in regards to her ex-boyfriend and his new woman, along with some other interesting facts that could really help her with the drama I’m sure she’s after for this show. I’ve no doubt she’s already read some of the stuff online, but the benefit of her best friend being so desperate for me means I get a little insider information.
“Wow, this is awesome. How d’you get it all?”
“I can’t tell you all my secrets, Tara. Now about my thank yo—” The line goes dead and I bark out a laugh. No blow job then?
I spend the afternoon working but I keep an eye on the time. Karla didn’t only give me Mia’s dark and dirty secrets once she’d had a little too much champagne last night, but she told me their first weeks shooting schedule, so I know exactly where they’ll be tonight and I intend on being there. The only thing I don’t know right now is how to play it. The arsehole game is fun and all but I’m wondering if I should pull the rug from under Mia and play nice. See how she responds.
I’m at their evening location before they arrive. DRAMA is Park Lane’s most exclusive club, and lucky for Mia, I know the manager. I join Marcus in his office for an early evening drink before they open the doors.
“Long time no see, mate. What’s drags you here?”
“A woman,” I admit, much to his amusement.
“I knew one would get to you in the end.”
“It’s for work, not pleasure.” Although as I say the words, I’m not sure if they’re actually true. I’m very much excited about these little games Mia and I are playing.
“Okay, well, the place is yours, do as you wish.” He passes me a card that allows access to all areas and after I promise him an epic write up in B.A.D. he bids me a farewell before going to get his night started.
Excitement licks at my insides, my cock already beginning to harden at the thought of what my night has in store.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I find our chat and tap on the side as I think about the right words to say to have her on full alert.
Deacon: I hope you bring all the DRAMA tonight ;)
I hit send and drop it back into my pocket as I finish my drink and head out to find my perfect spot to watch her arrival.
Chapter Ten
Mia
Thank goodness we’re filming tonight because it can stop the incessant chatter about Deacon King. We might be chatting to a loose script but still it’s a script that does not feature that arsehole.
My phone pings as we get ready to set off to the club.
<
br /> Deacon: I hope you bring all the DRAMA tonight ;)
Oh for fuck’s sake. I hate how he’s making me feel right now. On edge because of his unpredictability and yet at the same time getting a thrill from the game playing. My role in this reality show is supposed to bring bright shiny new things to my future; not dark, brooding bastards.
Once we arrive, I don’t have time to think about him as make-up and fashion are underway, cameras and lighting put into position, and we’re being directed this way and that.
“So are you ladies ready? The first scene can be redone as many times as we need to. It’s all new, and I know it’s difficult, but just try to forget the cameras are there and chat as you would normally, but on the topics we discussed. This first programme is all about the viewers getting to know you both.”
With that, I’m moved out of shot, ready to make my grand entrance.
They have me walk into the bar and act a great air kissing show of affection between us. Then we sit facing each other. Karla orders champagne and olives and we clink glasses while she tells me all about how she just did a fundraiser with Princess Catherine. She asks me how my Instagram is doing and I state I’m in talks to bring out my own range of products, something that in reality is no more at the moment than I’ve had an email from a little known brand. The producer feels that once the programme is out the bigger companies will inundate me, but we’ll see.
“So how have you been since things ended with Archie?” Karla says. It’s one of the must ask questions on our list.
“I’m doing great.” I smile. “I realise I was far too young to be tied down, you know. He has the weight of the family on him, to marry and produce an heir or two to continue the empire. I just don’t want to be someone’s perfect on paper person. I want the real deal. Huge, hard hitting love, that knocks me for six. A bit like this champagne is doing.” I giggle.
“And cut.”
We stop and I let my aching jaw rest. Acting fabulous totally exercises the face.