Game of Love: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance

by Lulu Pratt

  “It’s probably not going to be your kind of thing,” I said, as it suddenly occurred to me that as bad as it was, this could be the perfect time to get him to confess to whatever he was up to with Animagic and Dynasty Games.

  He laughed, a harsh, mocking laugh. “Hey, I’m teasing you, I know nobody wants the boss to come along!”

  “No, no, it’s not that!” I said, lightly. “I will text you the details! You might enjoy yourself.”

  “You… don’t mind?” he asked, his tone suddenly serious.

  “No, why would we?” I smiled in the hope that it would come across in my voice, but I had a gnawing feeling in my stomach that I was overstepping the line. Snooping at Clover House was one thing; taking advantage of someone when they were vulnerable was quite another. And yet, something in me wanted him to come, wanted to see this weird new side of him.

  It took me a while to get my courage up and find the club, even though Taylor had sent me directions. I had forwarded the directions on to Keegan, but at this stage I was hoping against hope that he wouldn’t show. The dance floor was already busy with people. Cozy booths with very low lighting surrounded it. The whole effect was like a theatre – each booth had deep leather seating and was hung with green velvet curtains. I loved it, and as I sought out Taylor, she squealed at me.

  “Damn!” she stood back and took my hands, twirling me to see my outfit. “You look shit hot!”

  “You seem surprised,” I laughed. “I’m going to have to rethink my work attire!”

  She looked at me seriously. “Yes, you are.”

  I laughed. “Okay, I will! Listen, I have to tell you something!”

  “Hurry, I have just ordered cocktails and you have the time it takes for Miguel here,” she waved at the barman, “to sort me out, and then I have got to dance!”

  “Okay, don’t be mad, it’s a long story, but Keegan is coming…” I winced in anticipation of her reaction.

  “What the fuck?” she cried. “Is he going to take the stick out of his ass so he can dance?”

  “I’m sorry!” I cringed. “It just happened, but he sounds pretty drunk, so maybe it will be okay?”

  “Ah,” she smiled. “Keegan Callahan drunk? Well, that’s something I would like to see!”

  I laughed nervously and took the glass offered to me by Miguel. Sipping the cool liquid, I watched as Taylor made her way to the dance floor, where she hugged someone she must have known. So much for my night of not-being-me. Here I was, trapped again between Freya Hamilton and Effie Hancock. I went to the only empty booth, ducked under the low hanging curtain, and slid inside. The drink tasted divine and I felt myself relax a little, but it was going to take a few more before I would feel like dancing. Then I glanced at the bar and saw him. Keegan was leaning against the bar, a bottle of beer in his hand. He didn’t look terribly drunk. He was wearing dark jeans and a dark shirt. His hair, usually so perfectly slicked into place, had been washed and allowed to go slightly wavy, and I was surprised to see how long it was. I felt a tightening inside me, and I bitterly regretted inviting him.

  Chapter 18

  KEEGAN

  I DON’T KNOW why I went. I was a bit drunk, sure, but I wasn’t drunk enough to think gate-crashing my employees’ night out was a good idea. But what was the alternative? Confront Sean? Confront Lucy? Lie in front of the TV getting hammered? No, anything but that – I had to get out of the condo. The huge, white, sparkling clean condo that had been rented for me and was cleaned for me by Beverly and which felt like living in an expensive dentist’s waiting room. I wanted to be around people, and the thought surprised me. Usually, I wanted to avoid people and their falseness. People either sucked up to me and agreed with everything I said, or they immediately resented me because of who I was or what I had. My ‘position,’ as my father would call it. I was sick of it.

  Anyway, for whatever reason, I found myself in a strange little club, trying to ignore the horror on the faces of Taylor from the Design team when she saw me. I ordered a beer and planned to drink it, leave some money behind the bar, and then get out of there. And then I saw Effie approaching me. Well, at first I didn’t realize it was her. She stood framed by two green velvet curtains at a booth, and she looked for all the world like she was about to perform something. I realized that if she did, I wouldn’t be able to tear my eyes away. I couldn’t have been more surprised. I understood why she had trouble getting into the dress, it turned out that under those pantsuits she had an insane figure, all curves but a tiny waist. Like a pin-up model from the fifties, I mused, and then realized she was gesturing for me to join her.

  I slid into the booth, and as I did, I tried to work out what the hell to say to her.

  “Thanks for the invite,” I smiled, not daring to look at her. I had sobered up a little since we had spoken, and now I regretted ever calling her.

  “No worries.” She seemed to be avoiding eye contact too.

  We sat and watched the dancers for a while, sipping our drinks, and I was so relieved when she finally broke the silence.

  “So, you had a bad day then?” she asked.

  “Uh, not the best,” I agreed. “You know how Sean and I are.”

  “Ah,” she nodded. “But still, you can’t choose your family, right?”

  “Yeah…” I agreed, still looking out of the booth at the dance floor. “But you can choose not to fuck their girlfriends…”

  She looked at me, her eyes wide. “Sean… Oh! I’m so… Shit, that’s awful!”

  “Yeah.” I sat back now and looked at her, her face full of concern, her strongly colored lips parted in surprise. “I mean, she wasn’t really a… girlfriend, but she was my… Well, whatever she was, she isn’t it now.” I lifted my beer as if to toast this.

  “But your brother! You must be so hurt.” Effie was clearly furious on my behalf, and it was slightly touching.

  “Yeah, well…” I realized that it has been so long since anyone had actually asked me how I felt about anything other than spreadsheets and design ideas that I didn’t know where to look.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said as she got up and slid out of the other side of the booth.

  I was powerless to resist watching as she went. She made her way across the dance floor, stepping around the dancing couples and groups of girls. I saw Taylor take her hands and try to drag her into a salsa-type dance, but she only gave in for a second, sashaying her hips to the music with some impressive footwork, spinning on Taylor’s hand before pointing to the bar and moving off. How had I not noticed Effie in the office? I felt like I had never seen her before. When she returned she had drinks for us both.

  “I think this conversation needs more alcohol,” she said, setting down a tray.

  “I don’t think we need to say anything more on the matter,” I disagreed, replacing my empty beer with a full one.

  “Ah, I’ll take these back then?” she smiled.

  “Nah, you’re all right, we might as well…” I smiled back at her.

  The conversation flowed more easily after that. We discussed the music, and we discovered that we liked a lot of the same musicians and bands and had even been to a couple of the same concerts. It was a good, safe topic. I was relieved that she wasn’t going to press me on what had happened with Sean and Lucy. I was relieved that I didn’t have to think about it right now. After a while, Taylor came to fetch her, and she apologized to me and joined the others on the dance floor. I didn’t mind. I was happy to sit half-hidden in the booth and just watch everyone. My eyes kept going back to Effie, to the way she moved. It was as if she could feel the music in her body, she was so responsive. I looked away. I felt uneasy watching her like this, but she was just so different to the closed-off woman I had to share my office with. I would easily have believed that this was her wilder twin sister. That thought created a stirring somewhere inside me, and I couldn’t quite believe that I was sitting here, getting slowly hammered, with a hard-on over my employee.

  When E
ffie came back, breathless, and hot, I had a drink waiting for her. Every warning alarm in my head was screaming at me to get up and leave, and yet I couldn’t seem to drag myself away. She sat down heavily and waved at the others on the dance floor.

  “So, you salsa!” I smiled.

  “I do!” she nodded, taking a drink. “Or at least I used to.”

  “Why did you stop?” I asked. “You are incredible!”

  “I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Life, I guess.”

  I nodded. “Man, I know how that feels, when you suddenly wonder why you stopped doing the things you enjoyed.”

  “What have you given up?” she asked, a skeptical look on her face.

  “I’ve given up plenty!” I said in a mock defensive tone.

  “Like what?” she laughed. “Smiling?”

  It took me a second to compose myself. I was surprised she had said it, and then I laughed. I laughed loud and hard like I hadn’t laughed in a long time, and I raised my bottle to her. “Yes!” I agreed. “Smiling!”

  “Well, at least you’re doing it now,” she laughed lightly, a little taken aback by my outburst.

  I had the sudden urge to talk to her. To really talk, to tell her who I really was. She looked at me intensely, like she was reading my mind. I felt myself get hard again.

  “I used to smile, yes, and I used to be creative, and spontaneous, and I used to do things without thinking,” I said, leaning forward and kissing her.

  In my mind, this was going to be a gentle kiss. I had justified it in that split second before I did it by telling myself it was a gesture of thanks for her recognizing the fact that I needed company and offering it so sweetly to me. But when my lips met hers, tasting the sharp lemon of her drink, I found myself reaching up to hold her face, pulling her towards me slightly and willing her to respond to me. She responded instantly, her tongue flicking against my lip and sending a surge of sexual energy through me. I pulled her to me, and she moved so that we were practically hidden from view, and I felt her arch her back towards me ever so slightly as I kissed her harder. And then in a split second, it was over, and she had pulled away and was back sitting at the other side, watching the dance floor as if it had never happened.

  “I…” I couldn’t think what to say, and I wasn’t going to apologize for something I didn’t regret, so I was glad when she cut me off.

  “That was a mistake,” she said coldly. “We have both had too much to drink.”

  She got up and left the booth, never even looking back. As I watched, she joined the rest of the group and danced with them, staying to the far side so I couldn’t even see her. I got up, went to the bar to leave some money to buy them all a few drinks, and then left. Like I should have done hours ago, I thought, my head spinning with the heat, the drink, and the confusion of what had just happened. I decided to walk home, and then realizing I hadn’t eaten anything, and lured by the smell of food, I found myself sitting in a quiet little place eating pizza and drinking ice-cold water to try to sober myself up a little. I sat there, watching the world go by and working through the events of the day, until the proprietor apologetically told me he needed to close. I left and walked home, welcoming the cool air on my face, and berating myself for fucking up almost every aspect of my life, yet again.

  Chapter 19

  FREYA

  I SPENT THE weekend writing my resignation letter to Clover House. And packing my bag for Ireland. And rewriting the letter. And unpacking my bag. And deleting the letter, because why the hell would I resign just because that creep had put the moves on me if it meant losing a free trip to Ireland? And then pausing. Because it wasn’t as one-sided as all that. He might have made the move, but I hadn’t exactly been reluctant, and I regretted ending the kiss. And that got me thinking about his mouth. And his fingers. And how he had pulled me to him and kissed me so hungrily. Like he was starving, and I was something delicious. So really, I spent the weekend trying to banish the filthy thoughts from my head so I could think straight.

  I was sitting at the kitchen table going over my trip checklist and found myself thinking of Keegan. I need him to get out of my head. My tongue had memorized his taste, and my hands could remember the feel of his strong muscles under his shirt. I needed release if I was going to see him this week. My hand slipped between my thighs, and I slowly pulled up my skirt, pretending instead it was Keegan doing it. I moved my hand close to my center and flicked aside my panties to realize that I was already wet from the memory of his kiss.

  I looked around and saw that I was hidden from the kitchen window. I shifted to the edge of the seat and began stroking myself. I closed my eyes, and Keegan’s face materialized before me. I wanted to push him away, but instead the thoughts of him commanding my body only made me wetter. My body was responding to the memory of him, and my fingers moved faster as I fantasized about his tattoos and his toned body in that biker outfit. His tongue on mine, on my neck, my breasts, stomach and then inside me. My breathing changed, and I was ready to orgasm. I never came this quickly.

  My back arched, and I moaned lowly as my walls tightened and spasmed in pleasure. The waves from the climax washed over me, and I threw my head back. My orgasm lasted longer than I’d ever experienced.

  Afterwards, I shook my head. I rarely masturbated, and hardly ever outside of the bedroom. To do it in the middle of the day at the kitchen table was totally out of character.

  I got up and, after adjusting my clothes and having a drink of water, I sat back down and found I could concentrate. Somehow, masturbating to the memory of my boss, who I was spending almost a week on an international trip with, made everything better.

  After a lot of thinking, I wrote a to-do list and formulated a plan for how I was going to do the Ireland trip, look through the rest of his files, and never think about his mouth or kissing it, ever again. But now, when I thought about searching those files, I felt a new level of guilt, like I had used him in a different way, had taken advantage of him in a sexual way. But it hadn’t been like that, I argued with myself. I hadn’t had any intention of seducing him – the thought was laughable. I confirmed my travel details with the flight operator for the Ireland trip, searching for the company online and sitting there open-mouthed at the luxury of their chartered flights. It was so extravagant, and so gorgeous, and yet so unnecessary. I thought about Keegan, silent and aloof, wearing one of his expensive suits and sitting isolated in his office full of cutting-edge technology, and tried to balance this against the vision of him with his scruffy hair and scuffed shoes, resting against the leather seating in the booth of the club with a bottle of beer in his hand.

  Later that night, I lay in bed thinking over everything. One thing was for sure, the criminal past that Taylor seemed so sure of seemed like a distinct possibility for a man who was so good at hiding his true self, I thought. And then I froze. Wasn’t that exactly what I was doing? The familiar surge of guilt moved through me, and I groaned and turned over in bed, turning my pillow over to the cool side and trying to count my breaths as I had seen something on social media about how it could help you sleep. It must have worked, because I fell into an uneasy doze, dreaming about Keegan showing me his tattoos and the police knocking on the door while I hid him in my closet. And then he was in my bed, and I was clawing at his back while he lay heavily on me, pounding into me over and over. When I woke in a tangle of bedding, I was hot and wet and more confused than ever. I stood under the blast of the shower for as long as the hot water lasted, and then skipped breakfast, heading out of the apartment to walk to Beatrix’s, letting my damp hair dry in the sunshine.

  I had to visit Beatrix to borrow a formal dress for the opening event in Ireland, but I was glad of the distraction and the company. She told me how Drew had worked all day Saturday and was clearly miserable. Of course, she demanded to know what was going on, were we going to get together or not? I didn’t want to tell her that Drew’s misery was self-inflicted because he was being an obnoxious dick, and I c
ouldn’t possibly tell her that I had spent the previous day masturbating and the follow night dreaming about fucking Keegan Callahan. He was the enemy, I kept reminding myself.

  So I told Beatrix that I didn’t think Drew and I were a good idea, that the past was probably best left in the past, and did my best to imply by my tone that I didn’t really want to talk about it. She seemed to get the message for once, and we talked over the Ireland itinerary. I found it hard not to let my excitement at the trip show, and she acknowledged that it was an awesome opportunity for me, even if I had to put up with Keegan. I said nothing. I let her dress me, put up with her prodding, and fixed each dress she put on me and then agreed easily to the dress she chose. It was some sort of slinky green number that seemed to show off a lot of skin, but I couldn’t summon the energy to argue with her. She was delighted with her easy victory and produced my favorite baked pasta dish for lunch. We ate together and I lingered for a while over coffee. No sooner had I got home when Drew called me.

  “I’m sorry for the way we left things the other night,” he said.

  “Me too,” I replied. “But I’ve changed over the years. I’ve had a lot of time to grow up, and I’m used to my independence.”

  “I see that,” he said. “But I can’t stand by if I think you are making bad choices. I care about you.”

  I bristled at this. “But they are my choices, right?”

  “I want us to be together, Freya, I think you know that. I want them to be our choices,” he said.

  “We have only just become friends again, isn’t it a little early to be talking about shared decisions?”

  “I don’t think so,” he said, matter of factly.

  “I do, Drew,” I said.

  “Freya, why are you resisting this?” he demanded, and I was stunned into silence. “We have finally got things back to how they should be, and now you are doing this whole independent woman thing!”