Playboy

by Logan Chance

  “Oh, Pollux, you showed up,” Katy’s sultry voice trills from beside me.

  I look down at her. “Yeah, of course.” I try my best to smile, but honestly my body freezes as I gaze at her.

  A small red flower is tucked inside the dark curls on top of her head. It matches the short red dress she’s wearing that hugs her curves.

  She grabs my arm, leading me to a less crowded area. “Why are you here?” she whisper-yells at me. “I didn’t think you would really show up.”

  I rub the tension in my neck. “Well…”

  James is my saving grace when he spots us and rushes over. “Pollux, so glad you could make it.” He shakes my hand. “Let me introduce you to a few people.”

  “Uh, sure.” I smile at Katy as I walk away.

  He stalks through the crowd, leading me to a table of old guys with thin gray hair and thick glasses.

  They exude wealth and old money, wearing designer suits and chatting over bourbon and some fancy leafy shit in a crystal bowl. Fucking perfect. I know who these men are before James even rattles off the next line, “This is the board of directors for Masters,” James says. “Gentlemen, this is Katy Vanderlin’s boyfriend.”

  At the perfect moment, Katy slips her arm through mine and plasters on a huge smile.

  The men at the table pull their attention from their lunch and all smile, welcoming me.

  John Gilmore, the youngest at the table, and that’s an overstatement cause he’s still like eighty or something, speaks, “Katy’s a valued employee. I’m glad to see her settling down so soon after her divorce. We like people we consider for partner to be solid.”

  Solid. Divorced. Things click into place. Katy’s not getting this partnership unless she lives up to the family standards on their logo.

  “Yes, Pollux is, well, he’s great. He’s really something else.” Katy smiles beside me.

  He nods. “That’s very well. Why don’t you join us?” the man asks.

  “Oh, thanks. But I need to speak to my wonderful boyfriend here about a few things. Please excuse us,” Katy says, grabbing my arm once again.

  “Actually, I’d like to sit and chat with these fine gentlemen.” I wink.

  She rolls her eyes and turns away, and I chuckle as I watch her hips sway all the way to the bar set up in the far corner.

  I pull out a chair and redirect my attention back to the men at the table.

  The server slides a bourbon in front of me, and I wrap my fingers around the glass.

  “Pollux, what do you do?” Frank Peters asks. He’s only been on the board for less than five years, but they all worship him like a God. And maybe they should, he did graduate MBA Harvard.

  “A little of this, a little of that.” I straighten my grey silk tie.

  Their craggy eyebrows pull down in disapproval of my answer, and I smile with the confidence I’ve always exuded in these types of situations.

  “Pollux, what’s your last name?” a bow tie clad Harold Porter asks.

  I see the game they play. Pedigree. Am I from a well-connected family. Next, they’ll ask about my college and where I vacation in the winters.

  I tug at my cufflinks. I’m half-tempted to blurt out who I really am. That would wipe the smug glares off their faces.

  “Clark,” I answer. “But not like Superman. Batman is way cooler.”

  They chuckle. And holy shit. A hand wearing a platinum band on the ring finger lands on my shoulder. The owner. Craig Kendall. At thirty-five he landed this company by marrying Gabi Masters, daughter of the now retired founder, Phillip Masters.

  “I like this guy,” he says, taking a seat in the white wicker chair beside me.

  If I play my cards right, I won’t even need Katy.

  As we converse over politics, I make mental notes. I’m a hit with the board. I’m not sold on them, though. The more we chat, the more I realize if I want to get inside this company, really get a feel for the character, I need to up my game.

  After a few more minutes, Katy returns, tugging at my arm. “Honey, I really need to talk to you.”

  I gaze briefly at her, and then back at the men of the table. “Women.” I shrug and rise from my seat. “Nice meeting you.”

  We walk away and head to the bar. When we’re seated, she orders a Moscow Mule, and I do the same.

  After the bartender slides the copper mugs to us, she redirects her focus on me, narrowing her blue eyes. “What are you doing here? Please start answering some questions.”

  “Fine,” I say, “ask away.”

  “Why were you at the party?”

  I take a swallow before I answer her, “Horses. I thought there’d be some for sale. You?”

  “Very funny. Do you take anything seriously?” She sips her drink, gazing at me from over her copper cup.

  “Sure, I do. Don’t you?”

  “Do you answer every question with a question?” The red sole of her Louboutin flashes me as her foot bobs in agitation.

  “No.” The urge to ramble off another question is nixed when she re-crosses her legs, and I get a glimpse of her inner thigh.

  “To answer your earlier question, I take this job very seriously.”

  “Why?” I lean back, getting more comfortable in the high-backed barstool. Why does she? It’s not hard to figure out these guys are in the wrong era. Based on what I’ve learned about her, she should have made partner long ago.

  She gazes out at the mingling crowd, then focuses her soft eyes back on me. “It’s my livelihood. I love working here, most days. What about you? Do you work?”

  “Yeah. I have a job. What do you do here, Katy?”

  “Wait. You’re turning everything around.” She holds her hand up, stopping me from going any further. “You’re supposed to be answering my questions. Why won’t you leave me alone? You kind of put me into a predicament here. Now I’m going to have to explain why you’re not around.”

  Well, we can’t have that. I grab the silverware from the bar, clanking it against the hard copper of the mug.

  “Can I have everyone’s attention,” I say, rising from my stool. The drone of chatter stops, and all eyes land on me.

  Clearing my throat, I smile and capture Katy’s hand. The place is silent, waiting. “Katy, my dear. I’m the luckiest man in the room. No, world.” I get down on one knee. “My shooting star in a sky full of constellations, will you do me the honor of being my wife?”

  Her jaw hits the makeshift marble floor. Figuratively, not literally. Hope that comes later, because I could think of a few ways to give her jaw a workout.

  To continue reading, you can now purchase Break Me on Amazon

  DARK DON

  Logan Chance has a Naughty Newsletter Novelette, read the first four chapters here.

  1. Rhiannon

  It takes a lifetime to fall in love, and for me, a moment to fall out. Right now, on my knees, in front of my executioner, is when I fall out. I hate him. Red trickles from his knuckle, down his fingertip, forming a red teardrop that falls on the tip of his designer shoe. It splatters and spreads across the glossy black leather. Such a shame his five hundred dollar shoes are ruined. My scalp screams for mercy when he fists my hair tighter and yanks my head back. His handsome face I dreamt about for years is contorted into a mask of rage I don’t recognize.

  “Answer me, Rhiannon,” he demands.

  “No.” My knees scrape against the pavement when he pulls me closer.

  He bends down, until his icy blue eyes are an eyelash width from mine. “Rhi,” he whispers. “I won’t show you any mercy.”

  “I don’t want your mercy, Xavier,” I whisper back. “Kill me.”

  The lifeless eyes of my bodyguard lying an arms width away tell me that’s probably not the wisest thing to say to the man who ended his life moments ago. I don’t give a fuck, though. I’ve loved this monster since he was ten years old. Now, I feel nothing. I’m glad he never knew how I felt about him. My nanny’s son with the bright blue eyes who wrote po
etry and kept me company when I was five is gone. In his place is a cold blooded killer. Like my father.

  His warm lips brush against my ear. “What about Ian?”

  My heart races. “You wouldn’t.”

  His suited men watch in the darkened parking lot, waiting to see who comes out the victor in this battle of wills.

  He pulls me to standing. “No? Haven’t you learned yet I mean what I say?”

  “Do it,” I taunt. A muscle ticks in his jaw. “I don’t want this life.”

  The breeze rustles through his dark locks. He releases my hair and turns away. “Put her in the car,” he orders.

  His henchmen get no resistance from me as they lead me to the black sedan.

  I’ll figure a way out of this. Just like when we were kids and played kidnap the princess. Except, this time, Xavier isn’t smiling and laughing. And this time I’m not the princess of some imaginary land. I’m a different kind of a princess. Something I want no part of. A Mafia princess. And Xavier isn’t my white knight coming to rescue me. He’s the dark Don willing to kill me to get what he wants.

  Power.

  “What are you doing in my room?” I wrap the towel tighter around me.

  “This house belongs to me. Why wouldn’t I be here?” Xavier’s blue eyes flit to the band aids on my knees. “Isn’t this where we fuck?”

  “Xavier,” I hiss, “get out.” I’ve never fucked him, and I never will.

  “What’s the matter, Rhiannon?” He crosses the distance between us. “Still shy around boys?”

  “Why are you so mean now?” I whisper, looking up at him. His eyes sweep down my body. This towel suddenly feels the size of a washcloth.

  “You’ve changed since I saw you last,” he says, ignoring my question.

  “Well, six years makes a lot of difference,” I tell him. “I’m not a naive eighteen year old anymore.”

  “I’ll say,” he murmurs, his gaze lingering on my breasts. He crosses his suited arms. “I brought you clothes.” He nods to the bed now filled with designer shopping bags.

  “Why, Xavier?” I ask. “You can’t keep me here.”

  “Sure I can.” he says. “Who helped you?”

  I turn from his piercing blue gaze and cross to the bed, rifling through the shopping bags. I can’t look at him anymore; it makes my chest ache to see what he’s become. While he worked his way up in the organization to become a ruthless mob boss by the age of thirty, I chose to follow through with what we’d always said—never become a part of this life.

  I left, graduated college, got a job, distanced myself. Until my father decided it was time for me to marry one of his associates. ‘It’s your duty,’ he said.

  So, with the help of someone trusted on the inside, I ran. Until Xavier found me.

  The heat from his body sears my back, and the towel is yanked from around me. I spin to face him. He dangles it from his fingers.

  “Xavier,” I yell, grabbing a handful of clothes to cover myself.

  “Don’t ignore me, Rhiannon,” he warns. “One way or another,” his heated gaze sets fire to my skin, “I’ll get what I want.”

  He drops the towel and slams the door on his way out.

  2. Xavier

  “Boss,” Frankie calls out to me as I make my way down the hall.

  “What?” My anger rages as I try my best to calm down.

  Seeing Rhiannon again was not how I imagined. I pictured her agreeable, sweet, submitting to my every command. But, she had some fight in her.

  She had always been in this life, but remained untouched by it all.

  And when we were young, we both agreed to leave it all behind. Not together in some young lover’s way. But, we both hated the life and the strings attached to it.

  Yet, here I am. A boss to a family.

  And I planned on being different. I planned on making my way to the top and changing the whole organization. Although once I got in it, once I made my first kill, there was a shift in me. A darkness that descended. So, I had every intention to change things, but, things don’t always go as planned.

  “Justin is here. Did you want to see him now?”

  “It’s late. You know how much I hate being disturbed.” I make my way to my office and sit behind my desk.

  I hadn’t planned on it taking so long with Rhiannon, but when the call came in that my men had her…I dropped everything I was doing.

  Six years. Six long years of wondering about her.

  “He needs to talk to you.”

  My eyes lift from the stack of papers on my desk and meet Frankie’s cold, dead eyes. “Fine, send him in.”

  Minutes later, Justin walks into my office.

  His squirrely eyes bounce around the room.

  I don’t have time for this shit.

  He takes a seat and bobs his legs with nervous energy. “Boss, I’ve been noticing some crazy activity over at the DeLaurio estate.”

  I run a hand down my face. “What kind of activity?”

  Sometimes it’s like pulling teeth to get anyone to tell me anything.

  He squirms in his seat. “Seems they know Rhiannon is missing. Mr. DeLaurio says he’s offering a lot of money for her safe return.”

  “Safe return? Ah, ok.” I let this information roll off my shoulders. So what? So he knows his daughter is missing. Good, cause I’ve got her. And I’m not letting her go that easily.

  Let him offer all the money in the world.

  I dismiss Justin and go to check on my little prisoner.

  I make my way down the hallway while the rest of the house settles in for the evening. It’s late. But I never sleep.

  The house is massive and sits on forty acres of secluded land, guarded land, that I keep a close eye on.

  It wasn’t always like this.

  I grew up with nothing, and now I have everything I could ever want.

  I come to the door where Rhiannon stays and don’t bother knocking. Why would I? I own this manor.

  And I’m the king here. The boss.

  I grab the key and turn the lock, stepping into the room.

  The lights are dim and I move to the bed where she sleeps.

  Unsure what I’m going to do with her, I pull back the covers.

  Motherfucker.

  Two large pillows under the down comforter are all that occupy the bed.

  My eyes search the room, and she’s nowhere.

  “She’s gone,” I say to Frankie after pulling my phone out of my double-breasted suit.

  “Don’t worry, boss. We’ll find her.”

  “You better.” I hang up and slam my fist against the wall.

  This little bitch.

  I glance around the room once more, looking for any small clue she could have left behind. There’s nothing.

  The window is shut. The door was locked. “I’ll find you,” I mutter to myself.

  I leave the room in a flash and head to my security center to look over the footage.

  “Anything?” I ask the men assembled.

  “Nothing. It’s like she’s vanished,” Gio, the head of security says, swiveling around in his office chair.

  Thirty monitors and not one of them has her on it.

  “Play back the last half hour. Find her.”

  Thirty monitors of the halls and common areas. Not one fucking camera in her room. Which, originally I wanted, but a sliver of me that still has a sense of decency decided to give her some privacy. I never expected this.

  I never planned on kidnapping her.

  Never have I kept someone as a prisoner before. The people I take captive, don’t come out alive.

  This is what I get for wanting her to be comfortable. I should have just locked her in the fucking basement.

  I leave the security room and head down the hall. Unsure of where to even look, I head back to my office, swinging by her room along the way.

  There’s a frenzy outside, the lights are on, the dogs are out. She has nowhere to go.

  No wa
y to run.

  I spot something out of the corner of my eye leaving her bedroom door. The flash of black-and-blue hair rushes past and I follow her.

  There she is.

  She has no idea I’m behind her.

  The halls are dark.

  The night is even darker with a moon overrun by clouds.

  She tiptoes, turning each corner carefully. I stalk her like the prey she is. Oh, Rhiannon.

  I laugh ever so quietly that she thinks she can outmaster me.

  I’ll admit, it was smart of her to hide in her room knowing I’d leave the door open. Then when the frenzy starts, slip out.

  We’ve been focusing on the outside as she makes her way through the house.

  Clever girl.

  She gets to the door that leads to the side of the house and waits, finding a small alcove to hide herself.

  “Hello, Rhiannon. Going somewhere?” I stand over her, my power exuding off me.

  She cowers at my words and then throws her hair over her shoulder. “Actually, yeah, I am. I’m leaving. Don’t try to stop me, Xavier.”

  I laugh. “Rhiannon, sweet little Rhi. I’m not only going to stop you, but now I’m going to punish you as well.”

  Her eyes widen. “I’ll put up a fight.”

  “Oh, I hope so. I really hope so.”

  I swoop in and lift her by her legs, draping her over my shoulder and carry her back to my room caveman style.

  I’m pissed she would want to run from me.

  To run from the beast she thinks I am.

  And who knows, maybe I really am a beast. There’s only one way to find out.

  3. Rhiannon

  Punish me? It’s no use trying to wiggle free. The only thing it’s getting me is half naked. All the bumping and jostling has my black tank pushed up to my armpits and my yoga pants easing down.

  The dark wood floor of the hallway passes quickly beneath his angry strides. I’ve no idea where he’s taking me, but I’m not giving up without a fight. So, I balance on his shoulder as best I can and reach down his broad back to slip my fingertips beneath his slacks, right to the edge of his briefs. And then… I grip the cotton band and give a yank. Hard. Take that, asshole.