Royally Mine: 22 All-New Bad Boy Romance Novellas

by Susan Stoker

  Table for Two by Nikki Sloane

  Chapter One

  Julius

  I was buying suits like girls bought gallons of ice cream to cheer them up. It was getting really fucking expensive, but at least I could afford it.

  Courtney Crawford was going on a date. Tonight. Her first official date since her divorce six months ago, and it was killing me. I’d bought my first suit after I got her text about it last week. The gray fabric was so dark, it was almost black, and it matched my shitty mood. I also got a maroon silk tie and pocket square that had small white polka dots. It looked good, like I had money and style.

  I ordered the second suit when she called me on Tuesday, wanting advice on where she should go if the guy asked for ideas. Nowhere, I wanted to say. Go out with me instead. Fuck. If I’d known she was ready, maybe I would have done something about it.

  Who was I kidding? We were friends, and I didn’t want to fuck that up.

  I’d watched her with another guy for the last seven years. I’d stood up at her and Tariq’s wedding because he was my boy and had asked me to. I didn’t know how the hell to say no. Didn’t want him figuring out I was in love with his girl and have him take her away from me.

  I told myself it was cool. Courtney and I could just be friends. I’d rather have that, than nothing at all.

  But then he’d started cheating on her.

  Wait, fuck that. He’d always been cheating on her. She knew about it when we’d been at Ohio State. He said it was a one-time fuck-up. It’d never happen when she was his wife. Tariq was a beast on the football field and an asshole off it, but he was smart enough to know he needed to lock Courtney down.

  The front door of the shop chimed when I pushed it open, and I marched toward the counter in the back. The place was dead, but it was three o’clock on a Friday. The only man I saw working didn’t look familiar, and it added to my irritation. Two years ago, I owned one suit, which I never wore and barely fit into. Now, I had a closet full of them, all tailored to the last motherfucking detail, and a specific guy I liked when I shopped here.

  “Where’s Maurice?” I asked.

  The guy behind the register was pale, almost like he’d never been outside. His nametag said ‘Brandon’ but maybe it was really Casper. He stared up at me and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. I got that a lot. I was a big motherfucker.

  “He’s out today,” Casper said. “Can I help you with something?”

  “I got a call telling me my suit’s ready.”

  “Your name?”

  “Julius King.”

  He nodded, disappeared into the back, and reappeared holding the top of the hanger sticking out of the black garment bag.

  I took it from him. “I gotta check the fit.”

  “Of course. Please let me know if you need anything.” He motioned toward the fitting rooms.

  Don’t think about Courtney. I stripped out of my jeans and t-shirt, and pulled on the suit pants. Don’t think about the lucky fucker who’d been set up on the blind date with her. I shoved my arms through the crisp black dress shirt that was also custom-made. Don’t think about how Kyle betrayed you, arranging the whole GD thing. He was supposed to be my friend. The only one who knew how I felt about Courtney, and then he went and fucking set her up with someone else.

  Asshole. I hadn’t texted him back since I found out. I was almost thirty, but not too old to give his ass the silent treatment.

  I buttoned the shirt, pulled the jacket off the hanger, and put it on. The fit was good. The suit was a deep purple, and looked classy without being stuffy. I stepped out of the room and went to the full-length mirror, where Casper lurked.

  His eyes widened. “Wow. Looks great.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  I stared at my reflection. I should have felt good. My linebacker build was physically impressive, and the expensive clothes made me seem professional. I looked powerful, and when I scowled, people nearly shit themselves. But I’d learned a while back how a smile got me a hell of a lot further. I liked smiling better, anyway.

  Not today. My frown made Casper go five shades whiter.

  “How does it feel?” he asked, nervous. “Is there something wrong with the fit?”

  “Nah.” I forced the scowl away. “Bad day, is all.”

  Casper nodded. “Hey, at least it’s Friday.”

  Except Friday was the beginning of my ‘work week,’ not the end of it. And it was Friday, the day she was going out with him. For once, I wasn’t looking forward to going to my club. Being around all the sex was going to make me think about Court and if she was going to fuck her date tonight if things went well.

  “I’m gonna wear it out,” I said. “Is that cool?”

  The tags were already gone, removed before the tailoring, and I’d worn the right pair of shoes into the store. I figured I’d go straight from the shop to the club, and get some shit sorted out before opening tonight. Anything to keep my mind off her.

  “Of course, sir,” Casper said. “You’re all set. Have a nice night.”

  Yeah, that was real fucking doubtful.

  Chapter Two

  Julius

  I sat at my desk and eyeballed the bottle of bourbon. Kyle had given it to me as a birthday present. It was some classy shit, or so he said, but I didn’t like it. I stuck it in my office to make me look good. Even though this place was a blindfold club, looks mattered.

  My club was my kingdom. My leather desk chair was so big, some of the girls called it my throne, and when I was in it, I could see every inch of the place through the monitors. Nothing went down in the rooms without me knowing about it.

  Was it too early to start drinking?

  Some of my staff were already in the building, but the girls wouldn’t show up for another few hours.

  I checked my phone. Court hadn’t texted me. She hadn’t sent out an SOS asking for help bailing on her date, which had started thirty minutes ago. Plenty of time for her to sneak away to the bathroom and tell me how awful the guy was… but she hadn’t. Fuck, it meant the date was going well.

  Panic was too big a word, but it was like ants were crawling on me. I’d waited too long. I was gonna miss my window, and wasn’t going to be lucky enough to get another chance with her. I had to fucking do something.

  When I called her, it went right to voicemail. I thumbed out a text instead of leaving a message.

  Me: Need to talk. It’s important.

  Minutes dragged by. The text said it’d been delivered, but not read. I set the phone down, covered my fist with my other hand, and cracked my knuckles all at the same time. I pictured her at a fancy-ass restaurant, sitting across the table from some asshole attorney, which the guy had to be since all of Kyle’s friends were lawyers, and she’d be smiling her smile that made me forget how to speak words. I should be that guy. That smile was for me.

  Fuck. If I couldn’t get in touch with her, maybe I could get the guy on the phone. Kyle owed me.

  Me: The bourbon you gave me tastes like shit.

  A meme jumped on the screen. “New phone, who dis?”

  The three dots blinked by as Kyle continued typing.

  Kyle: Fuck you. I don’t hear from you all week, and that’s what you open with?

  Me: I need dude’s name and number.

  Kyle: Sorry, can’t give it to you.

  Me: U R an asshole.

  Kyle: True.

  It was still early. Unless she was out in the suburbs, I could ambush her date and make it back to the club before it opened. Traffic would have to cooperate. Didn’t happen much in Chicago, but a brother could hope.

  Whatever. Focus.

  Me: Name and number. Or you call him.

  Kyle: And tell him what?

  Me: Setting them up was a mistake.

  Kyle: Was it? Sounds like you finally want to make your move.

  I stabbed my finger at the phone so hard, I was lucky it didn’t break.

  Me: ASSHOLE.

&nbs
p; Kyle: Yeah, we established that. If it helps, this thing wasn’t my idea. Going into a movie. Text me later.

  Was he shitting me?

  Me: WTF?

  There was no response.

  Me: Hope your dick falls off.

  The bastard didn’t answer me. I stared at the bottle of nasty-ass liquor and got angry as fuck. What the hell was I going to do?

  I’m a powerful guy. Connected to everyone, and treated like goddamn royalty. The superintendent of the Chicago PD was a client, and I cooperated with the FBI when some big-time john came through my doors. I could pull favors in an emergency. One phone call and I’d have most of the city out looking for Courtney Crawford.

  Goddammit. That would be some crazy-ass shit, right there.

  Instead, as much as it’d fucking suck, I’d sit here and wait for her to answer my message. I’d been through worse nights at the club. I’d tussled with another bouncer here once, and broken a client’s jaw when he strangled one of my girls half-to-death. I didn’t like fighting. Didn’t like the feeling of my fists pounding against something soft and warm, and knowing I was causing pain. No judgment of the guys who came to the club to get off like that, but I liked using my hands to give pleasure.

  “Julius,” a male voice echoed through my earpiece. It was Deiondre, my newest security guy. “Some girl’s at the front. You got an audition tonight?”

  Not that I knew about, but sometimes a girl I was recruiting showed up without scheduling. I focused on the screen at the main entrance, enlarging it so I—

  It felt like I’d been smacked in the center of my chest with a football helmet.

  What the fuck?

  No idea what Courtney was doing here. Only thing I knew was Kyle McCreary was a motherfucking dead man. Courtney looked nervous as hell, and I wasn’t too proud to admit I was scared shitless. She didn’t know what I did. I fed her the same line of bullshit everyone else got, that the blindfold club was an exclusive, members-only, wine club.

  I’d been grandfathered in with the lie, thanks to her husband Tariq. I wasn’t embarrassed about the business I ran. Why the fuck should I be? Everyone who walked through the door wanted to be here, especially my girls. I kept them safe, gave them a classy place to do their business, and we all made truckloads of cash.

  But I couldn’t go back on the lie once it’d been told. Court would have questions, and one of them would be if her husband had ever visited. I’d been trapped. Tariq and I had played football together at Ohio State, and he was real fucking quick to remind me “Bros before hoes.” The longer it went on, the deeper my hole got.

  Every time Tariq showed up at my club, cheated on his wife, and I didn’t say a fucking thing to her, it was like I was the bigger bastard. My betrayal stung more.

  “She’s asking about you,” Deiondre said. “You want me to send her up?”

  Fuck, no! I launched to my feet. “I’ll come down. Don’t say nothing to her.”

  I took the stairs down, two steps at a time. All the doors in the main hallway were open and the cleaning people were busy inside the client rooms, prepping for the night. A war drum pounded in my chest, harder than the moments in the tunnel before a big football game. How much had Kyle told her?

  Shit, what if this was the end of me and her, before we even got going?

  No. I wouldn’t let that happen. I yanked the door open to the entry checkpoint and put my hands on the doorframe, blocking the inside of the club from view.

  Seven years ago, Court had been a cheerleader at Ohio State. She was five-foot-nothing and maybe a buck-ten, as my Grampa would say. Tiny. Blonde, white, and so fucking pretty she’d been used in a bunch of the marketing material for OSU’s football program.

  And she just got better looking as the years went by. First time I’d seen her when Tariq brought them to Chicago, she’d cut her long hair short and gone darker. Still blonde, but more natural looking. It made her eyes bluer and brighter. Made her look sexier, which I didn’t think was possible.

  I couldn’t stop my gaze as it slid down her tight body. Was she wearing leather pants? Fuck me, the girl was a dime whatever she had on, but the loose, draping shirt she wore was mean. It covered her perfect ass from view, and I needed to see it in those pants she’d poured herself into.

  When Court’s gaze landed on me, a smile broke out, and wires crossed in my brain. She didn’t look pissed… she looked relieved. What the fuck? Maybe Kyle hadn’t told her anything. Maybe she’d gotten the address somehow and still thought this place was legit.

  I dug my fingers into the wood frame of the door where she couldn’t see my grip, and tried to sound normal. “Courtney? What’re you doing here?”

  She stared at my suit and blinked. Was the color throwing her off? Her big blue eyes shifted to look up at my face. “You wanted to talk.” She took a step forward. Even in heels, she was a foot shorter than me. “You said it was important.”

  I worked my fingers deeper between the wood. If I went after it, I’d separate the jam from the wall. “Yeah, but how’d—”

  Her voice was casual and steady. “I know what you do. I’ve known about this place for months, Julius.” She glanced at Deiondre, then back to me. “Can we go inside?”

  The door frame splintered and cracked in my hand, making her jolt. She’d known… for months? I brought my hands down, jamming them in my pockets as I turned to let her through the doorway. My brain chugged along, trying to keep up.

  Courtney was dressed to go out, but she was alone.

  “Did I fuck up your date?” I asked.

  Her faint smile made my confusion worse. “No.”

  As she walked past, I got a hit of her perfume. Just a hint of her scent had me swallowing hard. Did this girl have any idea what she did to me? I pulled the handle closed, putting a door between us and Deiondre.

  Courtney took in her surroundings. The narrow room had fancy couches on one side and a bar on the other, which was currently dark. When we were open, I staffed one guy behind it. He made sure the clients had whatever they wanted before their appointments, or if it was a walk-in, they had to hang out in this room while I evaluated their membership application and went over the rules.

  “I got questions,” I said. A fuck-ton of questions.

  She nodded, but stared at the floor instead of looking at me. “I do, too. Like, if you had ruined my date… would you be glad?”

  Trap, my brain warned. There were way bigger things to talk about right now. Worry squeezed my voice. “What do you know about my club?”

  “You don’t sell wine.”

  I sucked down a breath and my shoulders lifted. My chest was tight. “Yeah? What do I sell?”

  Finally, she looked at me and licked her lips. She did that shit when she was nervous, and had no fucking clue how much it turned me on. Her mouth was sexy as hell. She was so quiet, it was almost a whisper, and I couldn’t tell if she was judging me. “You sell women.”

  My pulse kicked up another notch. “Nah, not exactly.”

  Her eyes went big and she looked confused. “Then, you tell me, because I heard you—”

  “I sell an experience.”

  Her lush lips rounded into an ‘oh.’ The sudden urge to grab her and slam my mouth over hers was fierce, but I kept my motherfucking hands in my pockets. She hesitated, but the look in her eyes… what was that? Interest?

  “An experience,” she repeated, “with beautiful women, who are naked, blindfolded and bound.”

  Shit, she really did know. “Who told you?” I asked.

  It wouldn’t be Tariq. Their divorce was messy, and… fuck me. It couldn’t have been Kyle either. Besides him saying he wouldn’t tell her, he’d been my attorney, too. That was privileged info.

  She peered up at me like I was fascinating, not disgusting. How was that fucking possible? My heart roared along, like a stupid girl skipping through flowers. Courtney was my best friend. Having her know this and not judge me was fucking huge.

  “There’s
a guy who plays offense for the Bears. He came here last year with his wife, and…” She shrugged. “Players’ wives talk.”

  I staggered back a step, taking in the info I hadn’t seen coming. As a businessman, I was glad she hadn’t said the client’s name. We didn’t use them in the club, since the whole point of the blindfolds was to keep identities a secret.

  Courtney tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “She was, uh… complimentary of your place.”

  “I gotta sit down.” I plodded over to the nearest couch, dropped into it, and set my forehead in my hand. Holy shit. No point dancing around it. “Whatcha think when you found out?”

  Her heels tapped across the floor, and she sank slowly down onto the other side of the couch. “I was worried. I mean, what you’re doing isn’t legal.”

  “I’m fine,” I said, rubbing my forehead with my fingertips. “I ain’t going anywhere.” Not to prison, because I had an airtight arrangement with the Feds.

  “Right after I found out, you met Kyle and you said he helped you with stuff. So, I suspect he advised you how to operate without…” she searched for the right thing to say, “getting into trouble.”

  I let out a breath. I was glad to come clean on one secret, but couldn’t tell her the whole truth. If my deal with the FBI collapsed, it wasn’t just my neck, it was every one of my employees’ too, and that was a big deal for me.

  “Something like that.” I straightened and turned to her. “You mad at me for not telling you?”

  “No. I figured you would when you were ready.” She smiled softly. “But… I got impatient. You know I fucking suck at keeping secrets.”

  It was true. How had she gone months without telling me she knew about my club?

  “And as long as we’re talking about secrets…” Her breathing picked up and her face flushed.

  Fuck. This had to be about Tariq. Did she know he’d been a regular until their divorce? Until I’d finally stopped being a stupid fucking idiot, picked her over him, and threw Tariq’s ass out of my club?

  “I didn’t have a date tonight.” She licked her lips nervously. “I thought maybe you’d tell me everything when you were ready.”