“Whaaaaaat?” Lewis rolled his eyes. “That’s ridiculous. I’m not seeing some dumb therapist.”
“Lewis,” Ben took another deep breath, “if you don’t do as they say, not only will you probably go to jail, but you will most definitely lose your career.”
Lewis scoffed. “Don’t exaggerate, Ben.”
“I’m not! Did I forget to mention that the League also called? I did, didn’t I? Well, they did. And they said that, if you don’t comply, you will be banned from playing professionally ever again. That’s it. Buh-bye. No more baseball.”
“Are you serious?” Lewis gaped.
“God, finally,” Ben groaned. “Yes, Lewis. I am completely serious.”
“But that’s not fair!” Lewis whined.
“Yes, frankly, it is. You’re a grown-ass man. It’s time you started behaving like one. You assaulted a completely innocent woman in a five-star Manhattan restaurant. You can’t go around doing shit like that and expect to get away with it forever. You’re not a goddamn African dictator, Lewis.”
Lewis threw his open bottle of Gatorade across the room, splattering the hardwood floor with neon blue puddles. “Fuck that!” he spat.
“They’re waiting for your answer, Lewis.” Ben watched the Gatorade seep into the cracks between the floorboards and shook his head.
“Ugh, fine! Whatever! Therapy then,” Lewis crossed his arms angrily.
“And an apology and a donation.”
“I said whatever!”
“Excellent. I’ll bring the cheque and the apology speech by tonight. Right now it’s 4:13pm, by the way.”
“Christ,” Lewis swore.
“And I’ll book you an appointment for first thing tomorrow, so absolutely no fucking drinking tonight. Is that clear, Lewis?”
“Whatever,” Lewis sulked. “Fine.”
“Good,” Ben nodded, satisfied with their meeting. “Glad we had this little talk. Always a pleasure.”
Lewis grunted.
“Same to you,” Ben replied. “I’ll see you tonight, Lewis.”
Lewis didn’t reply, just flopped down onto the leather sofa and turned on Netflix.
With a sigh, Ben left him to it.
As soon as he heard the door shut behind Ben, Lewis turned off the TV and went in search of his phone. He found it stuffed into an Armani loafer Ben had made him buy for some charity gala last year. What the phone was doing in the loafer was beyond Lewis. Just as mysterious was how the loafer had ended up on Lewis’ kitchen counter. But then again, he’d punched Carla Rossetti in the face last night, so clearly anything was possible.
“I mean, how did I even manage to hit her?” he asked himself as he scrolled through his contacts. “She’s fucking tiny. Did I, like, get down on my knees to punch her or something? Like, fucking midget tiny, man.”
Finally, he found the person he was looking for. She was listed as “Nipple-rings(Abbie?)” in his phonebook. He pressed ‘call’ and listened to the phone ring on the other end.
“Lewis?” Maybe Abbie asked incredulously.
“Hey, girl,” Lewis replied, turning on all his charm. “Whatcha up to?”
“Have you, like, not seen the news today, Lewis?”
He chuckled. “That’s exactly why I’m calling, baby. I’m looking for something to brighten up my day and you seemed like the perfect fit, if you know what I mean,” he joked, mentally high-fiving himself for the dirty pun.
There was a pause on the end of the line. “You assaulted Carla Rossetti last night, Lewis. You know I’m bi, right? That kind of homophobic shit doesn’t fly with me. Find yourself another booty call, asshole.” Without another word, Maybe Abbie (though possibly Anastasia, now that he thought about it) hung up.
“Bitch,” Lewis muttered, deleting her from his contact list.
It took him three more tries before he found someone (a woman he couldn’t remember but who was listed as “Crazytight(Ruby??)” in his phone) who would sleep with him, which was four more tries than it usually took him to get laid.
“Fucking women and their fucking solidarity,” he complained as he headed for the shower.
Half an hour later, Lewis emerged from the steam-filled bathroom feeling much more like himself. Wrapping a towel around his slim hips – low enough that his V-lines were displayed in all their glory – he headed back to the couch to wait for Maybe Ruby. Flicking through the channels, he accidently came across the video of last night. His curiosity got the better of him and he put down the remote.
“Fuuuuuck,” he said when the clip ended. “Man, that was an awesome punch. Took down the table and everything. I can’t believe I wasted it on Carla fucking Rossetti. Goddamn shame, that is.”
His complaining was interrupted by a knock on the door. His booty call had arrived.
“Finally,” he huffed.
The redhead in the hall was vaguely familiar. “Hey, Lewis,” she smiled lasciviously, trailing her fingernails down his six-pack.
Lewis grinned. That was how he liked women: to the point. “Hey, babe,” he replied, drawing her into a kiss. He smiled in appreciation as her tongue piercing grazed the roof of his mouth.
They stumbled backward into his apartment and his towel fell to the floor, freeing his erection. Maybe Ruby broke the kiss and reached down to fondle his engorged cock. Lewis moaned as she played with him, those fire-engine red nails delicately stroking his sensitive skin. Kneeling down, the woman pressed a kiss to the tip of his penis, swirling her tongue around the head. Lewis groaned and buried his fingers in her hair. “Keep going,” he told her.
Smiling around his cock, Maybe Ruby ran the ball of her tongue piercing down his shaft, her warm, wet mouth following in its wake. Slowly but steadily she drew him into her mouth until she could go no further. Lewis was disappointed to see there were still a few inches of exposed dick, but kept his mouth shut. Women got so huffy when you complained about their blowjobs. But, seriously, he thought to himself, a little gagging never hurt anyone, did it?
When she’d gone as far as she could, Maybe Ruby began to suck, drawing her mouth up and down his length, her hand following behind, swirling and turning, pulling his foreskin back and forth across the ridge of his cock and sending waves of sensation coursing through him. Lewis began to thrust into her mouth, his hips rocking quickly back and forth as he gripped her by the hair. “That’s more like it,” he groaned as the pressure mounted. His eyes were closed so he didn’t notice Maybe Ruby glaring up at him as he drilled into her. She pressed her hands against his thighs to keep him from going too deep.
“Oooh, I’m gonna come,” Lewis panted as his thrusting picked up speed. But, before he could, the woman pinched his balls – hard.
“Ow! Fuck! What the hell was that for?” He stopped thrusting to glare down at the woman. “I was about to come!”
“You were about to choke me, asshole,” she replied wriggling out of his grasp and standing up. “If you just wanna drill something, get yourself a blow-up doll. I’m here to have fun, Lewis. Which means you’ve gotta make it good for me too. And having you fuck my throat is not fun for me. You were a lot better last time.”
“Jesus, way to kick a guy when he’s down,” Lewis replied, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m so sorry I’m not living up to your expectations. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m having a shitty time at the moment.”
“Yeah, I heard,” Maybe Ruby replied. “Not my problem, though. You wanna whine about your anger management issues? Then go see a therapist. I’m here for a good time. So, are we going to have a good time or are you going to be a selfish prick about this?”
Lewis pouted. “Women these days. You guys are, like, so self-righteous every fucking minute of the day.”
“What can I say?” the redhead replied. “Even us women can get sick of being treated like shit, can you believe it? Now, are you going to fuck me properly or what? ‘Cause I have other things to be doing.”
The baseball star looked at the s
emi-stranger for a minute. She was undeniably hot: thick, bright red hair, with a body that seemed to be mostly made of tits and ass. His cock twitched and he sighed. “Yeah, yeah, let’s do this.”
Maybe Ruby nodded as she unzipped her form-fitting jeans. “Then do it right,” she told him, bending over as she pulled off her jeans and giving him a great view of her clean-shaven pussy. Lewis licked his lips. Maybe being told what to do wasn’t all that bad – sometimes.
Chapter 3
Rosie sipped her latte, leaning back in her easy chair and watching kids play in the park across the street from her office. Her first appointment for the day was a new patient, John Snow, and he was five minutes late – not the best first impression. But, seeing as her clients were all people dealing with serious anger management issues, being a few minutes behind schedule was the least of her worries.
Finally, at ten past nine, her assistant came in looking a little shell shocked.
“Is Mr. Snow here yet, Lauren?” Rosie asked a little impatiently.
Lauren nodded silently, her eyes wide, as a tall, muscular man brushed passed her and sprawled in the chair across from Rosie. “Mr….uh, Snow, for you, Rosie,” Lauren squeaked and closed the door.
Looking across at her new patient, Rosie suddenly understood Lauren’s weird behavior. Mr. Snow was, in fact, the one and only Lewis Maserati. Rosie tried to keep her lip from curling. Just great.
“Would you like me to refer to you as John or as Lewis?” she asked. “You can call me Rosie.”
The superstar grunted. “Lewis. The fake name was Ben’s dumb idea.”
Unsure who Ben was, Rosie moved on. “Okay, great. So, can you tell me why you’re here, Lewis?”
“Because some dumb bitch got her panties in a twist,” Lewis replied.
“Because you assaulted an innocent woman?” Rosie rephrased his reply, trying to keep her anger out of her voice.
“Because you assaulted an innocent woman,” Lewis repeated in a twittering falsetto. “It was just one fucking punch.”
“Please try to refrain from swearing during these sessions, Lewis.”
“Whatever,” he replied.
“So, do you know why you punched Ms. Rossetti, Lewis?” Rosie asked.
“Yeah, ‘cause I’d drunk a bottle of tequila.”
“And does drinking make you feel aggressive?”
“No, being asked dumb fucking questions makes me feel aggressive,” Lewis answered.
“You’re not taking this session very seriously,” Rosie pointed out the obvious, fighting to keep her cool.
“I never did like women who talked too much,” Lewis said, leering at her.
Rosie’s face turned dark. “You’re misogynistic asshole,” she snapped, momentarily losing her cool. “Why should we care what you think?”
Lewis laughed dryly. “Now look who needs anger management therapy, doctor? Tsk, tsk, temper, temper,” he wagged a finger at Rosie.
“Get out of my office, Mr. Maserati,” said Rosie coldly.
“With pleasure, you quack,” Lewis replied, levering himself out of his easy chair. He yanked open the door with such force that it hit the wall behind it and bounced.
Rosie glared furiously at his disappearing back, only to have her door filled with a shorter, skinnier, older man with a slight potbelly and a well-groomed mustache.
“Ms. Suarez,” said the man.
“And you are?” Rosie asked.
“Ben Johnson. I’m Lewis’s manager,” the man replied, coming into her office.
“The one who decided to register him under a false name,” Rosie replied.
The man smiled apologetically. “Can you believe it? I tried registering Lewis under his actual name and all the other therapists ran screaming.”
“I certainly can believe it. Your charge is extremely unpleasant.”
“And that’s putting it mildly,” Ben agreed. “I’m really very sorry about his behavior today – it was over the top even for him.”
Rosie raised her eyebrows in disbelief.
“Look, Ms. Suarez, I’m well aware of just how shitty a person Lewis can be. But that’s exactly why he needs your help. He’s not actually such a bad kid. Before all this fame went to his head he was actually a pretty decent guy, I swear. I’ve known him since Little League.”
“Mhmm,” Rosie replied skeptically.
“Please, I’m begging you, just take him back. The guy needs help. And not just to save his career - for his own sake, too.”
Rosie shook her head silently.
Ben eyed her. She was a beautiful woman, but she had an edge to her that made him think she’d seen a lot worse than Lewis – and not just with her patients. “I’ll pay you double your going rate,” he told her. “Fuck, I’ll pay you triple.”
Rosie was tempted. God knew she could use the money. Unbidden, an image of Angelo’s gap-toothed grin came to mind. “Triple,” she said finally.
“Thank you, Ms. Saurez,” Ben grinned. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I swear you won’t regret this.”
Rosie laughed dryly. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Mr. Johnson.”
Ben smiled. “Whatever BS he pulls, I’ll make it worth your while. How’s that?”
Rosie smiled back. “Better.”
“You’re a life-saver,” he told her.
“I expect him here on time tomorrow,” she replied.
“Yes, ma’am,” Ben nodded. When she began reading her next patient’s case notes, he took the hint and left, closing the door gently behind him.
As soon as he was gone, Rosie groaned, burying her face in her paperwork. What had she gotten herself into?
***
The next morning Lewis arrived on time, though clearly not of his own free will. Ben popped his head in the door behind Lewis and gave Rosie a cheery wave and smile. She smiled back, although a lot less cheerfully.
“Here we are again,” Rosie said, eyeing her new patient.
“Huh,” Lewis glowered, his arms crossed over his chest. “You know, I should report you for your outburst yesterday. It was pretty unprofessional. I don’t know if I feel safe with you.”
Rosie smiled tightly. “I’m sure you can see the hypocrisy of such a complaint coming from a man facing the batter and sexual assault charges.”
Lewis shrugged. “Sure. But that doesn’t make my complaint less valid.” Then he smiled. “How about we make a deal, Rosie? I agree not to file a complaint and you agree to let me spend these sessions on my phone. So I gotta be here. Fine. But that doesn’t mean we both have to waste our time. I could even…you know…sweeten the deal a little bit for you.”
Rosie raised her eyebrows. “Sweeten the deal?” she repeated skeptically. The man didn’t look like he even knew the meaning of the word ‘sweet’.
“Yeah,” Lewis licked his lips, his smile growing. “You know…” he waggled his eyebrows and thrust his hips at her in a lewd invitation. “I mean, you’re not bad-looking, after all.”
Rosie felt anger bubble up inside her and took a deep breath to keep herself from losing her cool again. “Mr. Maserati, you are an arrogant, self-centered, and spoiled individual and, honestly, I’m having a tough time imagining someone I would less like to spend time with, never mind sleep with. However, my job is to help you and that is exactly what I’m going to do, whether you like it or not. So,” Rosie’s voice grew hard and forceful, “for the next few months you will arrive on time, sit down in that chair, and speak only when you are spoken to. Do you understand, Mr. Maserati?” Rosie’s expression made it clear that there was only one right answer.
Lewis blinked, surprised by Rosie’s forceful tone. “Uh, yes,” he answered. He felt his cock twitch in his jeans and realized with surprise that, once again, he was finding it kinda hot to have a woman put him in his place. Especially one who looked so delicate.
“Good,” said Rosie, leaning back in her chair. “Then let’s start with your childhood. How was your family life growing up?
”
Lewis rearranged himself in his seat, watching as Rosie uncrossed and crossed her legs, admiring the silky, tanned skin of her thighs.
“Eyes up here, Lewis,” said Rosie, who wasn’t blind.
The baseball player smiled and shifted his gaze to her face. “Sorry,” he said, “my eyes drift when I’m thinking.”
“Well, then, you must do an awful lot of thinking,” Rosie shot back. “Tell me about your childhood.”
Taming The Billionaire Page 84