Inked Playboy (Cocky Suits Chicago Book 5)

by Alex Wolf

  “You’ll be wasting your time if you show up.” At the same time I say it, I realize I’m breathing hard and I am in fact, wet. God, I want him so bad. Just one more time. It really was incredible. Phenomenal even.

  “We’ll see.” He hangs up.

  Why did I let him hang up? That was a power move and should’ve been mine. Fuck, this dude has my number.

  I get out of the car and head toward the elevator then up to my apartment. The second I walk in the wine comes out, the shoes come off, and I’m pacing.

  “Fucking goddamn Cole Miller. Fucking goddamn Cole Miller.” I just say that, on repeat, under my breath.

  I look down toward my bedroom.

  Don’t you do it, Harlow. Have some respect for crying out loud.

  My vibrator is just inside the room, in my top drawer. I could totally get a release and get this Cole Miller situation out of my mind for a few hours. The whole time I was on the phone with him, it was like we were both back in that hotel room. Why does his confidence and cocky attitude turn me on so much? Is it because it’s a challenge? Like I want to tame him or something? There has to be some psychology to this I can figure out, then remedy. Science must be able to explain this somehow.

  Maybe it’s because he’s a mentally tough guy. I can’t walk all over him like I do a lot of men, especially the ones my age.

  My eyes flit back and forth from the kitchen to my bedroom.

  Ugh!

  I finally stomp toward my room, grab the vibrator and my dress is off. All this happens in an instant. Within seconds I’m spread out on the bed with the vibe between my legs.

  “Shut up and put your goddamn mouth where it belongs, Miller.”

  I pray this will let me stop thinking about him, even for just a little while. Because he was right about one thing, even though I’d never tell him on the phone; I’m probably going to show up for that meeting.

  My head flies back as the vibrator touches my clit.

  I’m definitely going to show up.

  Chapter Seven

  Cole Miller

  I head out of my apartment building on foot, down toward the train station. I don’t feel like driving and I like to get out in the city, mix with the people. The weather is nice right now, getting into late summer. Football season is right around the corner.

  This Harlow Collins situation has me confused as hell. On one hand, the back and forth is incredible. The banter, making her frustrated, getting under her skin. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t thoroughly enjoy squaring off against her. At the same time, it makes me wonder who the fuck I even am? I’m the guy who swears off relationships. Women don’t dominate my thoughts twenty-four hours a day.

  I have a billion-dollar company to run. I’m a CEO. We literally just hired our one thousandth employee a few weeks back. A thousand people, their livelihoods, their families, all depend on me. I don’t have time for a woman in my life.

  I hop on the train and head toward Millennium Park. Told Dex I’d meet him at The Gage for a few drinks, even though I clearly need to take it easy on the booze. It’s getting to be a problem, affecting my decisions.

  The train ride is nice. There’s something comforting about it; I don’t know what it is. I think it’s because it was how I got around the city when I was a kid. It’s always been me and the train and wherever I was going. It gives me a chance to think about shit, be around normal, hard-working people. It keeps me grounded, my roots in reality.

  For some reason Harlow Collins still dominates my thoughts the entire time. Everything I see reminds me of her. A black jacket, someone’s tattoo—I think about her. Her putting up a fight makes me want her even more, and when I want something, I always get it. Surely, Dex and the brothers aren’t that protective of her. I mean, she’s a grown woman for fuck’s sake. She’s not a kid. It’s wishful thinking on my part and I know it. If I had a little sister or a cousin who was like a little sister, I’d beat the piss out of anyone who looked at her, no matter how old she was.

  The sex was phenomenal, but it’s not even the sex. She hides behind layers, just like me, and I relate to that. If she gives in, gives me a chance, she won’t be able to fight it, and neither will I. I know she feels this shit too. I can tell over the damn phone she wants me as bad as I want her.

  I hop off the train around Millennium Park and head toward the bar. It’s a restaurant too, so coming here during the day isn’t pathetic, like I’m a full-blown alky. I’ll just get something to eat and drink water.

  When I walk in, Dex is up at the bar and not a table. Great. Jimmy just poured him a scotch and damn, it looks delicious. The guilt socks me in the chest the entire time I walk over toward him.

  I hate keeping shit from my best friend, but what the hell am I supposed to say? Hey, I had sex with your baby cousin and it was the best sex of my life? There would be a fight to the death, and that would be a mild reaction the way these guys protect Harlow.

  “What’s up, bitch?” Dex stands and shakes my hand.

  I give him a little extra squeeze for calling me bitch. He tries to play it off like it doesn’t bother him, but I know it hurts like hell. Besides, he might think something is off if I don’t crush his hand. I do it to everyone.

  “What’s up?” My eyes move to his glass. “Scotch for lunch?”

  “Always, you having one?”

  “Nah, I’m gonna lay off for a bit.” It looks so damn good, though. The little beads of condensation trickling down from the ice. I really need to quit drinking.

  Dex stares straight ahead into the mirror behind the bar. “Yeah, the reception got a little wild.”

  “How are the newlyweds?” That’s good. Distract him from thinking I have something going on with Harlow.

  I don’t think he has any reason to think that, but this shit makes me paranoid—all these new feelings.

  “Good. Good. They’re in Italy. Deacon can’t booze because Quinn can’t.”

  “Can’t or she won’t let him?”

  We both laugh, because we both know the answer to that one. Another reason I don’t need a woman. They want to tell you what to do all the goddamn time, always try to change you. Fuck, what am I doing?

  “You know what’s up.”

  I shake my head, grinning my ass off. “No, I really don’t. Nobody tells me how to live my life, sir.”

  You would let Harlow. You’d do whatever the hell she told you to do.

  I wish my brain would shut off for two fucking seconds.

  “Abigail is cool as fuck. She doesn’t care if I have scotch in the afternoon.” He glances around nervously like she might walk in at any moment.

  “Right, why you looking around like she might walk in here and bust you?” I shake my head at him in haughty derision.

  He doesn’t even try to deny it. “You’re an asshole.”

  “Indeed.”

  Jimmy walks up. “Hey, Cole, what can I get you?”

  “Water and a menu.”

  “You got it.”

  I turn to Dex. “So, we all set for all the meetings?”

  “Soon, next few months, Pais has a paralegal coordinating everything. Just wanted to go over a few things, you know?”

  “Like what?”

  He winces a little. “Well, you’re not going to like this part.”

  What the fuck? I sigh. “What is it?”

  “Can you wear a suit?”

  “Is this the VCs requesting this shit or you?”

  “It’s for appearances, dick. They’re going to give you a couple hundred million dollars and you can’t put on a fucking suit? And a nice one too, not some Sears Roebuck door-to-door shit.”

  I shake my head, staring right at him. “You’re killing me, Collins.”

  He slides a card over. “I have a guy. He’ll take care of you. Drop a couple grand and don’t be a cheap ass.”

  I know it’s a drop in the bucket, but it still bothers me. Yeah, I don’t like wearing suits, but I hate frivolous spending even m
ore. I grew up without shit, fighting to eat. I watch people around town, living in poverty, or even middle-class wages and it feels wrong spending that kind of money on clothes. He’s clearly not going to let this go, though. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

  “Thanks, man. All that’s left really is getting all the presentations in order, business plans, financials, charts and shit, contracts drawn up. It’ll take a little while, but we need to do this right. I’ll have my associates coordinate with the ladies at your corporate office in the accounting department. You won’t have to touch any of it, just go over the final numbers to present. You’ll need to memorize that stuff. Pais and I will review everything and have it all ready so it takes up the least amount of your time possible.”

  “Sounds good. And I don’t mean to sound like an asshole about the suit, I just…”

  “You okay?”

  I nod. “Yeah, just a lot of shit going on.”

  “Personal or business?”

  Fuck, there’s no way I can discuss Harlow Collins with him, and it’s not totally her. “It’s just happening, you know? All this.”

  Dex nods. “It’s a big step, but you’re covered. We got you.”

  “And Covington approached me after the wedding. Seemed like I hurt his feelings, if you can believe that shit.” I know things between Wells and me are good, but it seems like a good cover story to distract from the I-fucked-your-baby-cousin issue.

  “Nah, I talked to him about it. He understood after he talked to you. That guy turns emotions on and off like a switch, there’s no way there’s bad blood there.”

  I hem and haw for a second, trying to sell my false concerns.

  “What happened to you after the reception anyway? You just kind of disappeared.”

  My eyes dart over to his. Shit! I play it off and shake my head slowly. “Nothing, really, just kinda, you know?” I let my sentence trail off.

  “You get some ass?” He nudges me with his elbow. “There was plenty of it running around.”

  Goddamn it, I don’t want to lie. I hate hiding things from him. Harlow would never talk to me again if I told him, though. Dex wouldn’t talk to me either. He might even try to fight me in here.

  “What’s up with Harlow?” The question comes out before I can stop it.

  His face hardens. “The fuck? Did you take her home?”

  I hold both hands up. “Easy, asshole. I meant with business.” I technically haven’t lied to him, just segued to a new topic. “You said you wanted to set up a meeting. Jesus.”

  He relaxes a little, just slightly.

  “Fuckin’ a, hit a nerve there. What would be so wrong about me dating Harlow if I wanted to?” Why the hell am I doing this right now? Am I sabotaging myself? Jesus, and why do I want to push him into a corner and make him tell me it’s fine if I want to do something with Harlow?

  He glares for a long second.

  “I’m not saying I want to, but fuck. You know me, don’t you?”

  He grinds his teeth and stares down at his scotch. “I don’t like where this conversation is headed.”

  “She’s like twenty-six, man. She’s going to date someone at some point.”

  He holds the rocks glass up to his mouth. “I’m sure she has, but I don’t need to know about it. She’s like my baby sister. You know what it’s like to protect people close to you, right?”

  Not really, no. Pedro, Bill, and my business are pretty much all I have, besides Dex and Covington, I suppose. I guess I would fight to the death for any of them, but still. There’s something between Harlow and me, and it gets stronger by the minute. The damn urge, it’s so strong. I’ve never felt like this before.

  Finally, I exhale a long breath. “Anyway, I set up a meeting with her, but she seemed wary, like maybe she didn’t want to.”

  He shakes his head and takes a sip of scotch as Jimmy drops off my water.

  “You know what you want?” Jimmy asks.

  “Nah, I need to run soon. I don’t think I have time to eat.” I slide a five across the bar to him because Jimmy always takes care of us and I’m taking up one of his seats.

  Dex’s eyes roll over to mine, like he’s thinking hard, judging the situation before he speaks. “I’ll talk to her. She can’t afford to turn down anyone’s business right now. I went by her office and she works in there alone, all by herself. It’s not safe.”

  I don’t know why but my defenses immediately come up. She works in a downtown high-rise, and I know she doesn’t leave until late at night. She’s a workaholic like me. Which means she’s in that building all by herself. Sure, maybe they have light security, some eight-dollar-an-hour rent-a-cops, but the parking garage is dark as fuck, I’m sure of it. At least I imagine the worst possible scenario in my head when I think about her walking to her car.

  It’s irresponsible and she’s going to hear about it. Thinks she’s tough as shit, and she is, but she’s no match for a man twice her size. What if some guy jumps out of the shadows and catches her by surprise? Ties her up and puts her in the back of a trunk?

  That escalated quickly.

  Who the hell am I right now? I didn’t have these thoughts last week. Shit.

  “She doesn’t even have a partner or a receptionist or anything?”

  “Nope, does everything remote. All her employees are in another state or country for all I know.”

  I stand up and attempt to relax after what I just heard. “Well, I gotta get to the office or they’ll send out a search party. People probably losing their minds already.”

  We shake hands again. I don’t squeeze his hand as hard this time. Have to take it easy on his little fingers. Once was enough.

  “All right, I’ll make sure everything’s coming together with the presentations so we can get them to you to review.”

  “Sounds good.” I turn and walk toward the door.

  “Go see my suit guy.” His words hit me in the back.

  “I will, dick.” After I meet with Harlow and tell her how reckless she’s being working alone.

  Chapter Eight

  Harlow Collins

  I should not be doing this.

  I repeat, I should not be doing this.

  I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me, but here I am, on my way to meet with Cole Miller about his “business.” A million things could go wrong, and I know they’re all because of my fucked-up hormones. It’s been a few days since our heated phone exchange. A little over a week since the one-night stand of a lifetime.

  I took thirty minutes longer than usual to get ready, and I’m wearing the same thing I always wear—black. It’s my color, what can I say? I spent two hours longer putting together information for a client consultation than usual. For some reason, I want to knock this thing out of the park. Make him see I mean business, even though I’m almost positive this is a ploy to get me in bed again. In fact, I know it is.

  I pull in, park, and carry my stuff to the Eleven City Diner off Wabash. Who picks a diner to have a business meeting? Why aren’t we doing it at his office? I’m sure he doesn’t even want to talk about business. I shouldn’t be here.

  Yet, in I walk, one foot after the other, carrying my bag with all my numbers and strategies to pitch. Wasted time I could be using in a much more efficient manner. And yet, my palms are already clammy, my throat is dry. My heartbeat pounds in my ears as I walk through the door.

  He’s at a booth in the back with that condescending, cocky smirk on that stupid, gorgeous face I want to smack. He stands up before I get there, as if he’s a perfect gentleman after he told me my pussy was wet on the phone. What an asshole.

  “Hey.”

  I glare and take a seat, not bothering to respond, then yank my bag up and start pulling papers out.

  “Want something to drink?”

  I shake my head vehemently. “Absolutely not, I want to tell you about my business and leave.”

  “This is some business decorum you have going on.” He leans back in the booth and smirk
s. “Do you treat all your clients this—coldly?”

  I whip my head up from my papers to glare at him. “Who are you? Decorum? I wasn’t aware that word was in your vocabulary.”

  He shrugs. “It means good taste in manners.”

  “I’m aware.”

  He looks over at the window. “Wouldn’t know. Our conversation at the hotel was limited to you moaning my name.”

  I shove my papers back in my bag and start to stand up.

  Cole follows suit and reaches across the table for my forearm. “Wait.” He inhales a deep breath. “Just stay, please.” He gestures with his head down to my seat.

  Why can’t I even form words right now? And why did him touching my arm send a shockwave through me? This is so bad. I’m like a kid playing with matches. You’re not supposed to fucking play with matches when you’re a kid. Everyone knows it’s bad. They tell you every damn day a thousand times.

  I want to say a million things and my brain is short-circuiting all over the place. Neurons won’t fire correctly. My brain’s a jumbled mess of words that don’t make any sense. I just stare at him, breathing heavily, seething, then I slowly sit back down.

  “Good.” He acts like he’s breathing with me, to calm things down. “This is progress, right?”

  Finally, I just snap. “Do you really want to hear my pitch or not? Because I really have a ton of other things to be doing right now and can’t afford to waste my time.”

  Cole smiles, and fuck me, it’s a beautiful smile. He could be on the cover of magazines. I’m sure he has been. He looks like one of those models on the cover of GQ, but with amazing tattoos and biceps, and damn it, focus!

  “I really want to hear. Dexter says you’re incredible.”

  The compliment simultaneously makes me feel on top of the world and makes my heart sink, knowing how my cousins would not approve of me lusting after this prick. What’s worse is there’s something more at play here than I can even put my finger on. Yes, I want to ride Cole Miller every time I even catch a glimpse of him, but there’s something beyond that and it’s driving me insane. I want to know more about him, but I shouldn’t care at all.