Inked Playboy (Cocky Suits Chicago Book 5)

by Alex Wolf

  I release her wrists and hold my hands up and away. She rolls off the bed and stomps back toward the bathroom.

  “I know you wanna fuck again.”

  “In your dreams, prick.” She throws up a middle finger.

  “More like in yours, princess.” I don’t know why I goad her. I know she has to be seething when I say the word princess. “You’re wet right now, aren’t you?”

  She whips around. “I’m going to go into this bathroom and make myself look presentable, and then you and I are never speaking of this again, ever. Am I clear?”

  “Whatever you say.” I toss her an obvious and sarcastic wink.

  She takes another step toward me. “And for the record, last night was a two out of ten, and I’m drier than the Sahara.”

  I glance down at her pussy then back up at her, smirking. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.” I never call women that, ever. But something tells me it’ll get under Harlow’s skin, so why not?

  She grinds her teeth. “Bitch.” She checks her phone for a second, swiping through screens, then sets it down on the nightstand and stomps back to the bathroom.

  Harlow Collins might be the meanest, most dangerous woman on the earth, and I have no idea why pushing her buttons is so fun. I’m really enjoying myself right now, though. I glance over and see her phone sitting there on the nightstand. It’s blowing up with notifications. I bet she’s one of those people who has everything programmed to her phone, couldn’t live without it.

  I pick it up and, surprisingly, it hasn’t locked yet. I flip through to her calendar, listening for her to come out of the bathroom. She’s not a normal chick so I imagine I have five minutes tops, not the usual thirty to an hour most women take to get ready. Harlow wants out of this room as soon as possible too, so I really may only have like three minutes.

  An idea comes to me and I smile at myself for thinking of it. I program a meeting for us to discuss marketing work this week, then close out the screen and set her phone back where it was.

  Sure as shit, three minutes later she comes out, and she looks as gorgeous as she did last night at the wedding; makeup, hair, everything all done. Why is it so fucking sexy, her getting ready that fast? I can’t stand when women spend an hour making you wait to get ready. It’s so inefficient and a waste of time. And if you do anything to remotely enjoy yourself while they’re getting ready, they give you shit for it, like you’re not allowed to be happy or have a good time while they’re miserable.

  I don’t give a shit. I’ll leave someone there in the bathroom.

  Anyway, Harlow doesn’t fuck around, and I love that about her. I’m starting to notice I like a lot of things about her, and that’s dangerous. These fucking—feelings, locked away like they’ve been in a vault inside me somewhere, and now they’re breathing air for the first time.

  She gathers up all her stuff, turns to me, and says, “I mean it. Please don’t say anything to anyone.”

  I give her my most sincere look I can, to let her know I may be a dick, but I’m not a total dick. “I’m not an asshole. I promise, I won’t.”

  “Thank you.”

  When she walks out of the room, it feels like a small sliver of me goes with her. Like I gave her a small piece of me last night, and she just took it with her. It’s like the temperature just lowered ten degrees, and like details aren’t as vivid, colors aren’t as bright.

  Shit. Shit!

  I shouldn’t have slept with her. I can’t fall for her. I just can’t right now.

  The only problem is, it might be too late to stop.

  I finally managed to get myself up and looking presentable then checked out of the hotel. I’m supposed to meet Wells Covington and Dexter for lunch.

  When I show up, only Wells is there, tapping his Rolex that probably cost a million bucks.

  “Yeah, yeah, asshole, it was a long night.”

  “Indeed it was.” He grins as he peruses the menu, not bothering to look up at me. “Mimosas for lunch?”

  “Read my mind.” So much for never drinking again. It’s the only thing that can cure this headache right now, though. I don’t usually drink so much all at once. Only at weddings, and after big fights, and sometimes when I go out with potential business associates. Fuck, I may have a problem. I need to slow down a little. It hasn’t affected business yet, and I don’t want it to. I don’t want this to turn into an every day thing.

  The waitress walks up, and I order a mimosa and tell her I need a little more time.

  After she walks off, I say, “Where’s Dex?”

  “Not gonna make it.”

  “Really? That fucker.”

  “He was worse off than you. Abigail had to help him into an Uber.” Wells leans back, seemingly amused. It’s how he always seems, actually. Like he’s just an observer in the world, looking for something interesting to happen or figure out why something works or doesn’t.

  “It was a hell of a reception.”

  “Yeah, no fireworks from Donavan this time. So I’m giving the win to Decker.”

  I laugh and pain shoots into my head the second I do it. “You really do get off on conflict, don’t you?”

  “That’s how great stories are made.” His gaze hardens. “You’re lining up meetings with Anderson and Gallegos.”

  It’s a statement. He doesn’t even bother to ask it as a question. I shouldn’t be surprised he knows this, considering he’s a wealthy hedge fund manager, but it does feel a little like betrayal. They’re two capital firms looking to invest in my business. “Yes, I am.”

  “Didn’t even bother with a phone call?” He tsks me.

  “Look, man.”

  “It’s okay.”

  I hold up a hand. “No, I should’ve called or something, it’s just awkward for me.”

  “Business is awkward? You seem to be doing very well.”

  I sometimes forget Wells doesn’t think like normal human beings. Everything he sees is a math equation and emotions and feelings are never part of that. I’m a good investment and he didn’t get a chance to throw money at me. Theoretically, he should’ve been the first person I asked. I have to be careful how to word this, and I’m still partially intoxicated from last night.

  “I don’t like mixing money and friendship. It has nothing to do with how you do business, I promise.”

  His eyes stop hovering over the menu and he looks up. I feel bad, like I may have hurt his feelings, if he has any. He’d never tell me if he did.

  “Interesting.” That’s all he says, like I’m some kind of science experiment he’s trying to figure out.

  “I’ve just seen too much shit happen, even in families where one person loans the other money. It changes the whole dynamic of the relationship. You and Dex are my best friends. What if I fuck up one quarter? Everything goes down the drain, our entire relationship, over a bad fucking quarter of business? I don’t want that.”

  He breathes a small sigh of relief. “Okay, that kind of makes sense.” He says it like he had never even considered that might be the reason. “We’re good then.”

  “That’s it?” I raise my brows.

  “Yeah, of course. Unless there’s another reason?” He leans in.

  I shake my head. “No, that’s definitely it. It’s not complicated and has nothing to do with business.”

  He shrugs. “Okay.” His lips curl up in a sly grin. “What exactly happened to you last night?”

  I look away, and fuck, I’m sure I just gave myself away. This dude reads people for a living, predicts the behaviors of entire companies.

  “Went to a hotel.”

  “Alone?”

  What an asshole. He’s grinning like he already has it all figured out. I know he does.

  I trace a circle around the rim of my mimosa, unable to look at him. “Please don’t say anything. They’ll hate me.”

  “Your secret is safe. No worries.”

  If there’s one thing about Wells, he knows how to keep a secret. He’s the cockies
t person I’ve ever met, but he’s also loyal.

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem, let’s eat.” He waves the waitress back over.

  I definitely need some food, and brunch sounds amazing right about now. But one other thing sounds more amazing; the fact I put that meeting in Harlow’s phone. Now, she either has to call to cancel, or show up. She’s too anal to blow it off.

  Either way, whether she calls or shows up, I win.

  Chapter Four

  Harlow Collins

  I look around my empty office suite; it’s perfect for me, but not so much for local clients. Dexter is coming by for a meeting. There’s a small waiting area with some modern artwork on the walls and window views of downtown Chicago. Everything else is the bare minimum because I schedule mostly virtual meetings. I have one office that looks like a normal conference room with video equipment set up for conference calls.

  Damn it, Dex! He’s going to give me shit about working up here all alone, no employees. I don’t like people. Surely, he’ll understand.

  I don’t have a receptionist. I can’t afford one and I have virtual employees who handle everything for me. It won’t be a good look, but the numbers I’m doing for him speak for themselves.

  Despite my rushing around like a neurotic mess, one thing lingers in the back of my mind. Okay, it’s front and center, and it must leave my brain now.

  Cole Miller.

  Ugh! Why did the sex have to be so good? Maybe I just remember it being phenomenal because it was drunk sex. Regardless, whatever we have going on absolutely cannot happen. My cousins would murder me. They’d probably murder Cole too. In fact, he’d probably take the dirt nap before me. They’re like big brothers and they’ve been territorial over me since I was a child. Anytime a boy even looked in my direction they were up in his face, immediately.

  I didn’t mind most of the time because boys, and then men, never interested me all that much. Nobody really interests me much, to be honest. Most people are boring.

  Wait, do you like Cole Miller?

  No! He’s a cocky, smug bastard.

  I pace over to the small refrigerator and pull out a bottled water and damn near strangle it trying to get the cap off. I’m breathing hard just at the thought of that asshole and the way he tossed me around, pinned me down. What am I going to do about this situation? Maybe it’ll all be forgotten. Maybe we’ll just never see each other again.

  Right. Wishful thinking. He and Dex are always together.

  Not to mention, I know Dex has been pushing him to work with me, and it’s not like I could afford to turn him down. The payments on my business loans are due soon and it’s a billion-dollar company that’s about to rapidly expand. The thought sends my hackles rising. I’m crushing it for all my clients, but I have the loans and overhead costs, and one client leads to more. It’s an exponential effect if you do good work. My employees enjoy getting paid, or they don’t stay employees.

  It doesn’t matter. He hasn’t approached me to work with him and it probably won’t happen anyway.

  Focus!

  About that time, Dexter walks in. He’s never been here before and cranes his head around, taking in the room.

  “Cousin!” I walk over and start to hug him but stop myself and hold out a hand. I have to remember to keep things professional.

  “Hey!” He takes my hand and it’s weird. Family are the only people I ever hug, everyone else I keep my distance.

  “You ready?”

  “Yeah, let’s do it.”

  We head back to my little conference room with a table where I do video conferences.

  “Where the hell is everyone?” He’s taking in every little detail of my office, clearly scrutinizing every choice I’ve made.

  “Virtual employees. You know I don’t like people and almost all my work is done online.”

  “Pretty cool.” It doesn’t sound cool the way he says it. It sounds judgy as hell.

  As modern as my cousins are, they still prefer face-to-face meetings and talking to clients. I get it. They have a law firm and most of their clients are older, like to have an office to visit. People are afraid to let go of the old ways. We enter the room and take a seat.

  I slide a packet across to him and stream his graphs and charts from my phone up on the monitor so he can look at it there as well.

  I start to give him my little presentation I cooked up, but he’s still glancing around at everything.

  “You just sit here all day, alone?”

  “Pretty much, if you’ll look at—”

  “Is that healthy?”

  “Dex.” I give him the patented stare the Collins brothers taught me. The glare that says stop what you’re doing, or I’ll fuck you up.

  He holds up both hands. “Sorry. You know I just care about you.”

  I nod. “Oh, I know. Now, here’s what we’ve been doing.”

  He shakes his head like he’s trying to rid himself of his surroundings and focus, and his eyes widen. “Okay. Hit me.”

  “I installed a Facebook pixel on the website so I can track everything potential customers do on there. If they click on you or the finance department, they’re fed into a custom audience in your ads manager on your Facebook page and immediately get hit with these ads in their newsfeed.” I scroll through the different ads I’ve been testing.

  Dex’s eyes get big. “Wow, those look amazing.”

  I smile. Now, I’ve got him. This is my wheelhouse. “Right? My graphics designer made the images and I wrote the copy for them.”

  “Fuck, I want to click them just looking at them and see what kinds of services my own firm has.” He laughs. “How the hell do you do that?”

  “Lots of practice. I identify a problem, a pain point with your potential client, then offer up a solution.” I flip to another screen. “I also started a newsletter for you, so you can get people interested. Do you have associates or paralegals who can create some content for me? Maybe do little tax and finance articles people might be interested in?”

  “Definitely, I have them doing research, staying ahead of the curve. They’re young and know how to do blog articles and all that shit.”

  “Perfect. The content will seem like you’re one step ahead of everyone at all times, on top of the changes. Clients love that stuff, knowing you’re monitoring their personal situations for them. Makes them seem like they’re being taken care of.”

  Dex leans back and grins. “I have to tell you, since you started this, our initial consultations have damn near doubled. Decker’s been praising me nonstop. People are noticing.”

  “Well tell that dipshit to let me take on the whole firm.”

  Dexter leans back and laughs. “Oh, I told him. Trust me. You’re doing great. I’m super proud of you.” He stares around and frowns. “My only concern is you holing yourself up in here all day, staring at a screen. At least try and get out and meet with some people once in a while. Take a walk or something, fuck.”

  “Dex—”

  He cuts me off, holding up a hand. “I know, okay? You fucking hate dealing with actual people. It’s easier when you have a buffer and you can email or text or whatever. I’m not saying you have to deal with anyone, just…” He leans in. “Just make sure you’re getting out once in a while. Get some fucking sunshine for thirty minutes, whatever. I’m serious, Harlow. It’s important.”

  “I work out five days a week. I promise I’m getting exercise, Dad.”

  We both crack up.

  “That’s great, and yeah laugh it up, smartass. I bet your dad tells you the same thing.”

  I take a deep breath. “Oh, he does.”

  “Where you working out at?”

  Ugh. I don’t want to bring up Cole Miller, but I don’t see any way around the question. “Curve.”

  Dex frowns. “He’s not trying any shit with you, is he? I saw him at the reception. I told him—”

  “I can take care of myself, but thanks for the concern. And I never see him
, I go to the one right up the block. He’s never in there.” I really don’t know what I’d do if I ever did want to date a guy. Cole is Dex’s best friend and he looks like he wants to choke him out. “Anyway, thought you wanted me to work with him?”

  “I do. I want you to have every opportunity possible for your business to succeed.” He sighs. “I just, I don’t know. I see the way he looks at you.”

  I reach over and put a hand on top of Dexter’s. “I really appreciate it, but it’s okay. He’s been nothing but nice to me.” It’s not a total lie. He did make me feel really good. “I’m not eight anymore, okay?”

  “I know, it’s just…”

  “You guys taught me how to take care of myself. I’ll put my foot in his nuts if he tries anything.” Why does lying to Dex feel so bad? If he knew what happened the other night, he’d go ballistic. I hate this. Hate it! Dex and his brothers are like my best friends.

  “Good to hear.” He shakes his head again, like he’s trying to focus. “Anyway, I’m super proud of you. I said that already, but I mean it. You’re killing it. Keep doing what you’re doing, and I’ll talk to Decker. Cool?” He stands up like the meeting is being concluded on his terms.

  I stand up too, because I just want him out of here before I blurt out a stupid Cole thought in front of him. “Deal. And thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me. You kick ass, you get rewarded.”

  I walk him back to the front door and he doesn’t look back as he walks toward it. “Get some plants or something in here, for fuck’s sake.”

  I laugh. “Tell Abby I said hi.”

  “Will do.” He tosses up a wave as he power-walks through the door, like he has a million other meetings he has to get to.

  Once he’s gone, I stare around at the office. Maybe I should get a local assistant, someone to be in the office. I’m just worried I’d take my day out on them. Am I weird for enjoying working by myself with nobody asking me idiotic questions or wanting to talk about their day or their kids? Always interrupting me, unable to solve a problem on their own?

  I just don’t have the patience for that kind of shit. I feel like we’d both be miserable.