Playboy

by Logan Chance

“Lizard?” I ask, stepping up close to her ear to be heard over the loud beat of the music.

  She looks over at me, and her light brown eyes go wide as she smiles. “Oh, my God, Cryin’?”

  Her nickname for me makes me cringe. Let me explain something before you hear it from someone else.

  Third grade. A huge tree. You’re invincible when you’re nine. I felt I could climb to the top, maybe jump from the branches onto another neighboring tree. I was so wrong.

  I’ll never forget falling, nothing to break my descent but a rock…I slammed into it hard. Luckily for me, nothing broke. Kid’s bodies are much more resilient to superhero actions and stupid conquests. A few tears might have been shed. Hence, the nickname Cryin’ Ryan.

  But, if you call me that I may have to hurt you…and not in the fun, kinky way.

  “Yeah, yeah, it’s me,” I answer her, with the biggest shit-eating grin on my face. It feels so good to be talking to her.

  2. Lizard

  Every girl has that one guy, she has a crush on forever.

  Wow, now that’s a blast from the past. It’s been four years since I’ve seen Ryan Wagner. Four years since I’ve heard from him at all. I forgot how tall he is. Even in my heels, I feel tiny next to him.

  He looks good. Really, really good. Gone is the boy from high school and in his place, is this… military man. A very sexy military man with sculpted muscles and chiseled features. I feel like saluting him and doing anything he commands. Ok, no more cocktails for me tonight.

  Lexi elbows me as I gawk, and I clear my throat to introduce Ryan and his younger brother, Devin, to my best friends Lexi and Belinda.

  “Hey, I’ve heard you sing,” Lexi says, pointing at Devin. “Remember,” she says to Belinda, “we went out after the Heat game.”

  “Ah, Heat fans?” Devin asks, and before you know it, the three of them are lost in a basketball conversation.

  “How have you been?” Ryan asks, smiling the boyish grin that used to get him into trouble in high school. It got him out of trouble many times, too. It’s its very own lethal weapon.

  “I’ve been great. How was the war?” I slur the words, and someone should really take my drink away from me.

  Ryan cracks a smile. “Well, I survived. So, I guess that’s a win.”

  “I’m glad you’re here.” I lean into hug him, and Ryan’s strong arms wrap around my body, lifting me off the ground. I want to live in this moment. Not wanting him to put me down ever. He smells delicious.

  The moment my feet hit the floor, the spell is broken. This is Ryan. I’m not going to act like some school-aged groupie.

  No, I did enough of that in high school. So, I reposition my skirt and return my senses back to the friend I have always been to him.

  But, fuck he’s gorgeous. And, I know Belinda agrees. She stares at him like he’s the next new item on the value menu at McDonald’s.

  I’ll let you in on a little secret, if you haven’t guessed already—I had a major crush on Ryan in high school. He never felt the same, and I never pursued anything, but the minute he wrapped his arms around me, and the smell of his cologne wafted over me, it took me right back there. Sixteen and starry eyed. Seriously, someone cut me off.

  I push my Margarita away from me and gaze back into his light green eyes as he leans in closer. “How many of these have you had?” He motions to my sour cocktail, and I smile.

  “That obvious?”

  “It’s cute.” He winks. “Last time I saw you drunk was at Julie’s graduation party.”

  Oh god, you know how you have a moment you wish you could take back? That was mine. I was drunk. All the big mistakes start with those three words, don’t they? Anyway, he was leaving for the military, and, well, I was feeling sentimental. Liquid courage led me to kiss him that night. There was no tongue involved, just a lingering kiss on his full lips. But, a week later he shipped off to boot camp, and that’s all she wrote. Not that he took it seriously or anything. I shake my head. “Don’t remind me. That was a bad night.”

  He shrugs. “Not too bad.”

  My cheeks heat. “Yeah, right.” I slap his arm. “I promise we won’t be having a repeat of that night.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad.” My eyes widen. Is he serious? He gazes at my lips for a second too long and it warms my skin.

  I lean in, contemplating replaying the kiss I planted on Ryan at Julie’s graduation party, but before I can make a fool of myself for a second time, a familiar voice interrupts, “Ryan Wagner?”

  I’d know that voice anywhere. It taunted me many times in high school. Ryan’s ex-girlfriend, Anna Scott. Maybe girlfriend is too strong. They dated a week before Ryan cut her loose. Casually, I straighten my posture and smile at the girl who hated me for no other reason than I was Ryan’s best friend. Lots of girls did. It wasn’t easy being his friend, but I stuck it out.

  She gives me a tight smile, and then steps closer to Ryan. “What are you doing here?”

  He looks down at her and then steps closer to me. “I’m catching up with Lizzy.”

  She looks between us and then barely hides the disdain in her blue eyes. “Well it was good running into you, Ryan,” she says, taking her drink from the bartender. “See you around.”

  “Not if I see you first,” I mumble.

  Ryan laughs. “She didn’t seem very happy to see you.”

  “Well, I’m the devil, remember?”

  He laughs again, stepping even closer. There is no space left between us. “Yeah, well, where are you hiding the horns in that get up?” Am I imagining we’re having a moment? I really wish I hadn’t had that third margarita. His eyes drift down my body as he takes a long pull of his beer.

  Devin, Lexi, and Belinda have all abandoned us for the dance floor, and it’s suddenly hot in here. Mainly because, here’s Ryan looking sexy as hell, and Connor and his friend, Erik, Lexi’s brother, are coming this way.

  Shit.

  I’ve been on one date with Connor. Maybe there’s a second date on the horizon, but it’s not something I want to think about right now. I plaster on a fake smile as they walk over. Kayla, Erik’s girlfriend, waves to me.

  “Hey, Lizzy,” Connor says, walking up to Ryan and I, placing his arm around me. He’s posturing, and it’s uncomfortable and my eyes immediately seek Ryan’s out. He doesn’t seem to mind, so I pretend I don’t either.

  After I introduce everyone, and explain how Ryan is an old friend from school,

  Ryan and Devin end up leaving, and I’m left alone with Connor. But, my mind is all occupied with Ryan Wagner.

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  BREAK ME

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  Prologue

  A brand-new day. A fresh start. Another chance at life. A new beginning.

  Ever heard of these phrases? Yeah, well they’re all bullshit. Why? Well, I’ll tell you. The new life you think you’re having isn’t new at all.

  Your past mistakes. The hurt you may have caused. The lives you’ve ruined. They’re all still there. Hiding. Dwelling deep within you.

  I could have a thousand new lives and it would never erase the people I failed. The mess I caused. The years of heartache I’ve dealt with.

  I failed her.

  She wasn’t meant for the life I caused.

  She was meant for so much more.

  But, she couldn’t see that. She hid her pain well. She cried herself to sleep every night, and I never noticed.

  I overlooked her sorrow.

  And then one day she was gone.

  Leaving the rest of us behind. And breaking us all.

  1. Katy

  “Oh fuck, you like it when I choke you?”

  Hell yes. His handsome face, with the faint scar jutting through his left eyebrow, blurs. No one has ever choked me during sex. It’s not actually a full choke, just light pressure on my windpipe by his large hand. I am too far gone to even answer this sex God, so I nod. “You’re such
a dirty girl. Your pussy is so wet for me,” he husks out, tightening his choke hold and driving his thick cock faster into me. I am. I am so dirty. Filthy. I can’t tell him, because I can barely breathe.

  My ass slides across the cool marble of the bathroom counter as he rams into me. I bump and scoot along the small surface, and the basket of tissues flies to the floor when I reach out trying to get leverage. Tingles ignite low in my belly, fanning out. I’m going to come before he kills me. It’s going to be epic.

  The heels of my red Louboutin’s dig into his firm ass, pulling him closer to me. My head falls back, and pricks of light fire off behind my eyelids as my orgasm rolls through my body.

  I can finally breathe when he releases my throat to grab my ass and lift me off the counter, thrusting into me until his tall, lean body shudders with his own orgasm. “Goddamn,” he mutters.

  He slides out, removing the condom and tossing it in the trash can. The swanky bathroom is no longer filled with the grunts and groans of sex, only an awkward silence. My short, red evening gown bunched around my waist is a wrinkled mess. And ripped. Fuck. I shimmy it down covering myself, trying to fix the delicate lace hanging from the bodice. His deep brown eyes meet mine as he tucks his weapon of sex voodoo back in his black tuxedo slacks.

  He grabs the tiny bit of dangling lace from my dress and rips it.

  “There, you won’t be needing this.” He tosses the material into the trash. “Your eyes are a little bloodshot,” he says, running a hand through his dark hair. “They’ll just think you’re drunk.”

  “What?” I ask, spinning around to look in the gold-framed mirror stretching across the wall. Shit. They are. Worse than the roadmap of my eyes is the love bite on my bare shoulder. Large and purple, where his full lips sucked. It was hot when he bit me, so hot I bit him back, but I’m not sure the wealthy people filling the ballroom will appreciate the hostess of the charity event to save their precious Dales pony looking like a two-dollar hooker.

  I lock eyes in the mirror with the sexy stranger behind me. Yes, stranger. The only thing I know about him is his name. Pollux. I’m assuming he must like ponies since he’s here tonight.

  He reaches out and releases the snake pit of black curls on my head. “Now you really look like you’ve been fucked.” White teeth rake across his bottom lip. “Should’ve done that a while ago. I could’ve wrapped it around my fist.”

  Let me just say, I’m not used to men saying these things to me. The men I’ve been with would rather get off to stock portfolios than pulling my hair. Katy Dale Vanderlin, daughter of a prominent New Jersey physician, senior consultant of Master’s Consulting Firm, and semi socialite, does not have sex with strangers in bathrooms. Actually, she doesn’t have much sex at all, which is probably why I ended up with my panties by the door. The panties he’s now sliding in his pocket.

  “Okay, listen,” I tell him, “I don’t usually do this kind of thing.”

  “Why?” he interrupts. “Too busy mingling with the stuffy asses out there?”

  Well, the tall sex God has good looks and brains. That’s exactly why I don’t. Fear of judgement, I guess.

  A knock on the door halts our self-examination of me. “Katy,” my assistant, Anne, calls out, “are you in here?”

  I hold a finger to my lips and shake my head at Pollux. “Yeah,” I answer.

  “James is looking for you.”

  Of course, he is. Anger courses through me. This prick has been on my ass all night. His neediness led me to seek solace in the hallway leading to the restrooms. That’s when Pollux stumbled upon me, and well, one thing led to another.

  I peer over at Pollux, smile, and rustle my fingers into the now mess of wild hair on my head, smoothing down the ends. “See ya around,” I say, as we walk through the bathroom door.

  A smile lights my face. Spur of the moment sex with a stranger is so not me. Not even a little bit. But it felt good to let my hair down, metaphorically speaking.

  I only get a few steps before James scowls in my direction. His balding head reflects the lights from above, blinding me momentarily.

  “Hi, sir. Did you need to see me?”

  “Yes, I know we’re not working, but did you get the AR-2 file to me this afternoon?” As if I would forget. I’m up for partner, and I wouldn’t make any mistakes now when I’m so close. I can almost taste the sweet victory of it all.

  “Of course,” I answer.

  “Who’s this, Katy?” James asks, sizing up Pollux.

  I can’t exactly tell him this is the guy that choked me in the bathroom, so I step closer to Pollux and smile, or at least I try to in this awkward predicament. “This is, uh, um,…”

  Pollux cuts in, “Pollux Clark. I’m Katy’s boyfriend.” He smiles, extending his hand out toward James’s.

  Our eyes meet, and right now, I wish I could telepathically scold him. But, I weigh my choices and go with the charade. “Yes, he’s my boyfriend. I’m sure I’ve mentioned him before.”

  “Nice to meet you,” James says, shaking Pollux’s hand.

  Pollux drapes an arm over my shoulders. “Yeah, Katy here loves these events, but she needed some quiet time. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

  His hand moves further south, smacking my ass cheeks as he winks.

  I want to strangle his neck. “Yeah, honey. Sure,” I say through clenched teeth.

  James is unimpressed. In fact, he appears like he wants to murder us both.

  I step out of Pollux’s grip.

  “Pollux, are you coming Sunday to the company picnic at the park?” James asks.

  “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  “Great. See you then.”

  James leaves, ambling back to the twinkling lights of the party, and I turn to Pollux. “What are you doing? What was that?” I want to scream more things to him, but he laughs slightly, crossing his strong arms over his chest.

  “Calm down, princess. You looked like you could use the help.” He steps closer, pulling me against his firm chest. “I’ll see you Sunday, sugarplum.” He salutes me with a wicked grin before striding away.

  Asshole.

  2. Pollux

  Fuck. My night went from great to complicated to even more complicated.

  Grabbing my MacBook, I sink down onto the large, overstuffed sofa in the grand penthouse suite of the Plaza, my home away from home while I stay in New York. It’s nice here, very accommodating, but the color choices are God awful. Blue and gold? It looks like a lot of the hotels I’ve stayed at in the South of France. Frilly, overdone, and just plain gaudy.

  Surfing the latest stock portfolios, I narrow my eyes as I come across Masters Consulting Firm. I click on Katy Vanderlin’s link and stare at the picture. Tight body, fiery eyes, and red, plump lips. Reading about her slew of top clients and hard work ethic is overshadowed by the way she felt coming on my cock.

  The idea of seeing her again makes me smile, but I need to tamper down the school-boy crush and focus on my main objective. And it sure as fuck isn’t falling for an executive at Masters.

  No, that’s the last thing on my agenda.

  It’s probably best not to see her again, but, I need to be at that picnic. Hell, I need to be anywhere Craig Kendall, president of Masters, is. I’m finally making progress with my plan, and I won’t let some smoldering temptress persuade me otherwise.

  What’s my plan? I’m a corporate raider, for lack of a better word. Sounds kickass, huh? Well, it is. I buy companies, tear them apart, and resell off the parts for big money.

  Right now, I have my sights set on one of the top consulting firms in New York. Yeah, you guessed it…Masters.

  I’m still unsure what I’ll do with it once I buy it. Tear it apart? Sell it whole? Run it myself? That’s why I want the inside scoop. I want to get a vibe for the employees. Not only how they work, but how they function as humans.

  This is how I operate. It’s how I work. Some may think it’s not a traditional approach, not old-school, but
that’s the beauty of it all. Being unconventional is how I’ve become so successful.

  Staying incognito to achieve my objective is the main reason I threw out a fake name. Seemed fitting, a gala to save a pony…so I chose Pollux, the Greek patron god of horses.

  At thirty-four, I’m a beast in the boardroom. And an even bigger one in the bedroom. Katy Vanderlin just made things even easier for me.

  Sunday morning rolls around, and I smile at my new plan, and maybe a little bit because I get to see Katy again. This is the first time in years I’ve felt a spark of excitement. She’s fun. I’m sure she won’t be too happy to see me, and it makes it all the more fun. I keep it semi casual in black Armani. Trim button down shirt and slacks. Can’t go wrong with Armani.

  I step off the street corner, weaving into the throng of people rushing to the Subway on this brisk afternoon in Manhattan. I hit the stairs and slip inside the closing Subway doors to grab a seat. I don’t think I’ve been on the Subway in well, ever. I’ve never ridden this hunk of junk. And now I see why. I’m shoved in between an earbud wearing yuppie and a religious zealot trying to give me a pamphlet on how to get to heaven.

  “No thanks. Hell has a spot reserved for me,” I tell him.

  The sub pulls in at Grand Central Station, and I hop out, passing by the panhandlers with cardboard signs and street artists trying to get attention. Ninety percent cons. Like me, I guess. Pretending to be someone you’re not.

  Fuck it’s cold. My breath hangs in the freezing air, and I wonder how great this “picnic” is going to be. The people last night don’t strike me as the type to picnic. When I think of a picnic, I imagine summer green grass, a wicker basket, and sitting on a red and white gingham blanket. Like the kind I used to take with my kid sister, Harper.

  Not the large white tent up ahead with the company logo for Masters.

  I step inside the chatter filled heated tent, removing my jacket and handing it off to the coat check girl by the front. How is this a picnic? The only ants at this picnic are the army of black clad servers circling the white linen covered tables. Ice sculptures of the board member’s heads sit on each table surrounded by a moat of crystal glasses. I almost laugh. I’ve been to many corporate functions, but this may set a new bar for pretentious.