Inked Playboy (Cocky Suits Chicago Book 5)

by Alex Wolf

  Inked Playboy

  Alex Wolf

  Sloane Howell

  Contents

  1. Cole Miller

  2. Harlow Collins

  3. Cole Miller

  4. Harlow Collins

  5. Cole Miller

  6. Harlow Collins

  7. Cole Miller

  8. Harlow Collins

  9. Cole Miller

  10. Harlow Collins

  11. Cole Miller

  12. Harlow Collins

  13. Cole Miller

  14. Harlow Collins

  15. Cole Miller

  16. Harlow Collins

  17. Cole Miller

  18. Harlow Collins

  19. Cole Miller

  20. Cole Miller

  21. Harlow Collins

  22. Cole Miller

  23. Cole Miller

  24. Harlow Collins

  25. Cole Miller

  26. Harlow Collins

  27. Cole Miller

  28. Harlow Collins

  29. Cole Miller

  30. Harlow Collins

  31. Cole Miller

  32. Cole Miller

  33. Harlow Collins

  Epilogue

  Also by Sloane Howell

  Also by Alex Wolf

  About Alex Wolf

  Inked Playboy Copyright © 2020 Alex Wolf and Sloane Howell

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

  This book may not be resold or given away to other people. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Publisher © Alex Wolf & Sloane Howell May 22nd, 2020

  Cover Design: Chelle Bliss

  Editor: Spellbound

  Formatting: Alex Wolf

  Chapter One

  Cole Miller

  I’ve always been alone.

  I don’t do romance. The thought of someone else trying to tell me what to do nauseates me.

  I also hate wearing suits.

  My collar tightens around my neck as I finally break free from the red carpet at the Chicago Yacht Club. Another fucking wedding.

  First Decker and Tate, now Deacon and Quinn. This shit makes me want to hurl. I amend my previous statement. Tuxedoes are even worse than suits. Why are they so damn uncomfortable?

  I walk through the door with Pedro Mandez, the undefeated, WMMA welterweight world-champion. I was him once.

  Not anymore. Now, I train him.

  “Shit is fancy.” Pedro looks up at me.

  I just nod. “Yeah.”

  We take a program, and an usher leads us down to our seats.

  Dexter Collins sees us and takes off in our direction. Fucker. I’m sure he’s here to say hi to Pedro. Dex and I were roommates in college at IU and have been best friends since high school.

  “Glad you could make it, Pedro.” He shakes his hand.

  Pedro snickers.

  “I exist too, fucker.” I reach out my hand and the three of us laugh as he shakes it.

  Dex shrugs. “You’re old news, Miller. Nobody cares about the Rolling Stones when Halsey is in the room.

  "Who the hell is Halsey?” I pause and shake my head at him. “Nevermind, Jesus.”

  Pedro raises a fist. “You saying I’m Halsey and not the Rolling Stones?”

  I smile my ass off at how big Dex’s eyes get and how uncomfortable he looks.

  Pedro cracks up. “Just messing with you, man.”

  Dex glances back and forth at us, then laughs nervously. “All right, dickheads. Gotta get back to groomsman duty. Catch you at the reception?”

  “We’ll be there.” I crane my head around, cringing at all the flowers and candelabras and white linens. Fuck, this sucks. It’s going to be a long hour until this shit’s done.

  Although, there are a lot of celebrities and some hot ass running around, so maybe it won’t be too terrible.

  It’s the perfect setting for networking, especially when people are drinking. Some of these influencers will want pictures with me and Pedro and they’ll post them all over their Instagram and shit. The more my face is out there, the better my business does.

  Pedro and I take a seat. The music starts up. People walk by in tuxedoes and dresses that cost as much as a car, and not a piece of shit car either.

  Pedro leans over. “Why you hate weddings so much?”

  “It’s all bullshit and fake. A theater show. Half of these marriages end up in a clusterfuck; someone cheats, they fight over money, but pretend everything is fine on Facebook.”

  “I think they’re beautiful.” Pedro looks straight ahead, grinning. He loves fucking with me.

  “Pussy,” I mumble.

  We both stare at each other and laugh.

  An older lady clears her throat behind us.

  We laugh harder.

  “Any reason to drink some booze with a ton of beautiful women is a good thing to me.” Pedro adjusts his bowtie, like he’s about to take his pick of the women here.

  “Like you need any help, champ.”

  About the time he starts to say something else, the music fires up and Deacon and his brothers walk up the aisle.

  Deacon looks pale as fuck. I don’t blame him. He’s about to risk his entire empire on a woman. Of course, Quinn is awesome, but that’s beside the point.

  Him and Dex are identical twins but Deacon has about thirty more pounds of muscle on his frame. The guy is a beast and would’ve been drafted by the Bears in the first round if he hadn’t been injured.

  Him and Quinn seem really happy, so maybe there’s a chance there. The Collins brothers are all doomed, though. They’re all married or engaged now. I never thought I’d see the day. Dexter’s wedding won’t be too far along now.

  Here Comes the Bride blares from the speakers and everyone stands, as you do at weddings. Quinn walks out and she really does look beautiful, not that I’d ever say that out loud. The Collins brothers look like they want to fight just about anyone who even looks at their women. Not that I’m worried. I could kick the shit out of all of them at once, but it’s best to keep things civil with your friends.

  Quinn holds the bouquet right over her stomach, probably to hide the baby bump. She looks like she’s fighting a smile through her teeth. I know she’s super stressed out. She’s getting married and studying for the bar exam at the same time, plus has a kid coming in a few months. Fuck all that noise, it makes running a corporation sound like a walk in the park. She’s holding it together pretty well, though.

  A man walks her up the aisle, only he’s in an electric wheelchair. I think it’s her dad. Dex says he’s cool as shit. I met him once at a Bears game and came to the same conclusion. I talked to him for about thirty minutes, and he knew damn near every detail of every one of my fights, probably better than I do. He glances up at Quinn and says something to her, and she smiles even wider, this time like it’s not forced. I guess that’s what good fathers can do. Sense when you’re nervous and say the right things. I wouldn’t know.

  As they go by, and I watch them pass us down the aisle and stop at the front near the officiant, something catches my attention.

  I take that back. It’s not something.

 
; It’s someone.

  Just as my head swivels over to what caught my eye, I lock eyes with her.

  No. Fucking. Way.

  She’s up in the front row with the rest of the family.

  Harlow fucking Collins; the baby cousin.

  Only she’s not so much a baby anymore. Jesus, she’s smoking hot. I never realized just how beautiful she is until right now.

  She’s mid-twenties, jet-black hair, icy blue eyes, and has the coolest fucking sleeves of tats on both arms. She looks hot as balls all dressed up in a black cocktail dress. I don’t know if I ever see her not wearing a black dress, but tonight is different. It does something to me.

  We’ve met a few times, but she’s basically Dex’s little sister, so I’ve never even contemplated trying anything. Why would I? I’m not looking for a relationship and she doesn’t look like the kind of woman you fuck and send on her way. Not at all. I can’t ever even remember paying much attention to her, but she has it now. She most definitely does.

  I can’t think of anyone on this planet who makes me worry, sends that little bit of fear into the pit of my stomach. She might just be the exception, and I have no idea why.

  Pedro nudges me just as Harlow turns her glare back up to the front. I think she might hate weddings as much as I do, and it makes me smile.

  I glance forward when Pedro’s elbow hits mine, and he’s nodding at Deacon. He’s damn near in tears.

  Absolutely disgraceful. What the hell did these women do to these guys? Decker cried like a baby at his wedding too.

  The women all around are losing their shit, dabbing their eyes with tissues. Pedro sniffs a little.

  I turn and stare at him. “Some world champion,” I whisper.

  He just smiles back. I guess you can cry at weddings when you’re the toughest motherfucker on planet earth. I just shake my head at him, grinning my ass off.

  He doesn’t care. He’s cockier than I am. That’s saying something.

  “Someone’s gonna take a picture of this and it’s going to end up on Sportscenter.”

  Pedro shakes his head. “Don’t give a shit. It’s beautiful.”

  I sigh and look back at the happy couple. “Christ,” I whisper under my breath.

  Pedro cracks a smile.

  The rest of the wedding goes as weddings go. They light a candle and the officiant says a bunch of shit and they repeat things. For some reason, I can’t get Harlow’s face out of my mind. I glance back over there a few times, but she keeps looking straight ahead. I remind myself I do need to set up a meeting with her at some point. Dex says she’s a badass at digital marketing, and I’m about to acquire capital to expand my gyms.

  Bet she likes it rough as hell.

  Whoa, brain! Jesus Christ. I shake my head and stare at anything but her. No idea where that thought came from, but I need to get my shit together. If there is one woman in this building that’s off limits, it’s her. There are no gray areas there. None.

  Dex and Quinn kiss, and thank God this is almost finished.

  It’s about time to get drunk and do what I do best—other than kick the hell out of people in an octagon—talk to rich people.

  The reception is well under way, and I’ve taken copious amounts of selfies with people and also shots of whiskey. Fuck, the Collins brothers can drink. I need to slow down a little or I’m going to act like an idiot. One thing is certain, I become much chattier when I drink. It’s almost like an out-of-body experience. Like I’m standing back, just watching the shit that’s coming out of my mouth, unable to stop it.

  Finally, I catch all the Collins brothers together and head over there. Pedro is off at a table with three women around him, so he’s doing just fine. I may end up heading home by myself when this is over.

  Dexter puts an arm around me. “Ready to blow your business up worldwide?”

  He may be drunker than me, but I bet we’re pretty close. “Hell yeah, meetings all set?”

  “Just about,” says Paisley from behind him, rolling her eyes at all of us. She’s pregnant and can’t drink, and clearly, she’s a little irritated about that. She and Dexter both work in finance and they’re handling all my business capital needs.

  Donavan swoops in like a champ. I swear to God, he would follow Paisley off the edge of a cliff. He kisses her and she takes the rocks glass from his hand and sets it aside as their little PDA gets even more handsy. I have a feeling he’s done drinking for the night. He won’t give a shit. He’ll do whatever she tells him to do.

  Pathetic.

  “You need to set up a meeting with Harlow too,” says Dex.

  Fuck. Harlow.

  Why does him saying her name garner my full attention? And where the hell is Harlow? And why do I give a shit where she is?

  I nod. “Definitely.”

  I must say it a certain way because all the Collins brothers turn and stare at me.

  Dex glares for a long few seconds and adds, “And business better be the only fucking thing you discuss.”

  What the hell?

  I laugh it off and shrug. “What else would I talk about?” I give him a condescending pat on the shoulder. “Take it easy, big guy.”

  The four of them start to fidget a little. I get it, though. She’s like their baby sister. Still, she’s twenty-six for fuck’s sake.

  “Did I hear my name?”

  That voice.

  Shit, she’s standing right behind me. I don’t know why my stomach tightens a little when I hear her speak. I’ve met her before. It’s always been friendly. There’s just something about the way she looked earlier; her tight, toned body in that sleeveless black dress, firm ass.

  I need to stop drinking, or leave.

  I turn to face her. “Was just saying I need to get something on the books with you. I hear you’re doing great work for Dex.”

  “Goddamn right I am. Should’ve called weeks ago.”

  Why is it so hot when she’s so damn arrogant? I’ve never been like this around her before. Maybe it’s the wedding and that dress and shit, but this can’t happen.

  Nothing has even happened yet. And it’s not going to.

  For some reason, I want to scream, “Hell yes, let’s get something on the books immediately,” but I don’t. Instead, I wince a little and say, “Meh. Not sure you’re ready yet. Company is still pretty young.” Maybe if I piss her off and get her to leave me alone, I won’t want to pull her into the coat closet and hike that skirt over her ass.

  The look on her face is priceless, and I think I may like where this is headed even better than before. The eyes around us all go wide. Apparently, people don’t speak that way to Harlow Collins.

  Challenge accepted.

  Harlow folds her arms over her chest, and it pushes her tits together right in front of me. If she’s not careful my dick’s going to bust through the zipper on these slacks.

  “Is that so, asshole?”

  I take a sip of whiskey and raise my eyebrows. “Hell of a way to speak to a potential client.”

  You could cut the tension in the air with a damn knife.

  It’s awkward as shit, and fucking awesome.

  “Well, dickhead, my company gets results. So go on down the road to a big ad agency, pay out the ass for antiquated shit you’ll waste a fuckton of money on, and I’ll accept your apology when you come running back to my inexperienced little company.” She turns on a heel and takes two steps, then glances back. “And the rate will fucking double, pussy.” She walks off.

  Am I in love? Is this what love is?

  I laugh to myself. That was maybe the greatest thing ever. Now, I’m intrigued.

  First off, who the hell calls a former MMA champion a pussy to their face? Man, she’s hot. The whole time she was ripping into me, I wanted to grab her hair and kiss the shit out of her, just to shut her up. Just to knock her off her game. If her cousins weren’t standing around, I might’ve done it.

  This shit is so damn dangerous. I can’t do this. The Collins broth
ers would murder me if I so much as even touched her inappropriately. I’m not too afraid of fighting them, if I had to, but I can’t beat up a damn bullet.

  I look around at everyone in our little group, shrug, and laugh. “I think this meeting might happen.”

  They all snicker, nervously, then go back to talking. I glance over, and Pedro has his arms around two of the girls from earlier, and he gives me the thumbs up. Yep, I’m rolling solo after this. It’s all good. He needs to enjoy being young and on top of the world. He’s a good kid and came from nothing.

  Just as I start to head to the bar for another drink, I stutter step a little. My balance is all off. Fucking hell. I think I do need to get out of here. The shots are hitting me all at once and it’s getting harder to talk. I think I might be speaking in cursive soon.

  I glance over and, fuck my ass.

  Harlow’s right next to the ice sculpture. How appropriate. It’s like a goddamn metaphor. Harlow Collins, leaned up against a big block of ice, staring right at me.

  I smirk at her.

  She smirks back.

  Fuck, if I was sober, I wouldn’t dare in a million years. But I’m not sober and she has the look. Everyone knows the look. I want to see more of it.

  Is this shit really about to happen?

  I think it is.

  Chapter Two

  Harlow Collins

  I do not have time for Cole fucking Miller in my life right now.

  Yet here we are, headed up to a nearby hotel room with a bottle of whiskey, groping each other furiously.