The Dom's Rules: A Dark Contemporary BDSM Romance (The Pleasure Wars Book 2)

by Harper West

  I’d have to remember to reach out to him and see what he thought about the whole thing. Maybe he had some connections that could get it taken down or something.

  In the meantime, I decided to go ahead and reach out to this son of my mom’s friends. Better to get it over with while I had the motivation so I could say I did it.

  Once I dialed his number, I realized I hadn't even gotten his name from my mom, and I wanted to kick myself. This was going to be an awkward phone call for sure.

  With any luck, he'd be just as weirded out by our mothers' meddling and would decline my invite, and I would have done my good deed without having to actually do much.

  "Hello?"

  He had a nice voice, deep and smooth.

  "Uh, hi," I said, suddenly wishing I'd rehearsed what I was going to say at all. "Um, this is going to sound super weird, but do you know the Everrets?"

  "Yes?" he said, sounding confused. "I mean, my parents are friends with them? Why? Did something happen?"

  "No, no. God, I'm sorry, I'm not doing this very well at all. I'm Ashlyn Everret, and my mom called me and said you were moving to my area and wanted me to, I don't know, offer to show you around or something. She also neglected to tell me your name or let me know if you were expecting a call from a total stranger, so if you want to hang up now, I will definitely understand."

  I expected it, to be honest, but instead he surprised me by laughing. "I know your mom, Ashlyn," he said. "And no offense, but that sounds like her. I'm sure my mom made it sound like I was alone in the world and lost up here by myself with no one to show me how to get to the grocery store."

  That made me laugh. "Probably. Moms can be so dramatic sometimes."

  "They can. It's nice to meet you, by the way. I'm Simon."

  "Simon," I said. "Great. It's totally cool if you don't want to meet up, I just promised my mom I'd ask, and I know she's going to check to make sure I did, so."

  "You have to cover your bases, I get that. It would be rude of me to not even get you coffee after my mom put the idea in your mom's head."

  "You don't have to do that," I assured him. "We can make up something if you'd rather. I'm good at keeping secrets, and I know you're probably busy getting settled and all."

  "I moved three months ago," he said. "My mom just doesn't think I get out enough, I guess. Maybe I don't. So I'd love to take you out for coffee or lunch or something. And then you never have to see me again if you don't want to."

  I couldn't help the smile that spread across my lips. He was funny and charming, and it wouldn't be that much of a burden to have coffee with him once.

  "Sure," I said. "Do you know the coffee shop of Avondale?"

  "Yeah, I've been by there a few times," he replied.

  "Let's go anywhere but there."

  "What's wrong with that one?"

  "Nothing," I said. "I just work there, and sometimes it's nice to go somewhere else."

  He laughed, and I found I did like the sound quite a bit. "Noted," he said. "I'll pick another place. Does Wednesday work for you? Maybe after five?"

  "That sounds perfect," I said.

  Killian would be busy with Eve on Wednesday, and I wouldn't have to worry about him bothering me.

  Chapter 18

  Ash

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come with me tonight?” Killian asked, leaning against the counter.

  It was just after the lunch rush and Killian claimed to be on his way to a meeting and in need of coffee, which was why he was bothering me at work. But he was still there even though his drink had been up for at least five minutes already, so clearly he wasn’t in any hurry.

  “I’m sure,” I said. “I have plans already.”

  “Oh, really?” he asked. “Hot date?” He waggled his eyebrows like the idea of me going on a date was laughable, and I scowled at him. If I wasn’t at work, and there weren’t customers who would see it, I would have thrown something at him and told him where he could shove it.

  I tried to convey that with my eyes instead.

  In true Killian form, he just laughed.

  “I’m having coffee with the son of a friend of my mom’s,” I said. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

  I expected him to brush it off or saying something about how the contract made it his business and he had a right to know where his wife was going to be or something like that. Instead, something flashed in his eyes that I couldn’t identify, and when he smiled it didn’t seem the same as his usual one.

  “Well that doesn’t sound as fun as coming with me tonight,” he said. “And anyway, how long can a coffee date last?”

  “Maybe we’ll go to dinner afterwards,” I pointed out. “I’m not coming with you, so you and Eve will have to have a good time without me.”

  I didn’t see what the big deal was. It wasn’t like I was obligated to do things with him and Eve, and if he tried to press it, I would remind him of that.

  He opened his mouth and then closed it, giving me that weird smile again. “I’m sure we will,” he said. “Enjoy your coffee. I should get going.” Killian gathered up his coffee and headed out, letting the door close behind him without even getting in another word.

  It was strange for him, and I stood there for a second, trying to puzzle through it before I decided I didn’t care and got on with my day.

  If he wanted to be weird, then he could go do it on his own time and leave me out of it. I had enough on my plate without having to add deciphering Killian’s moods to the list. Eve could deal with that, as far as I was concerned.

  It hadn’t occurred to me before, but it was kind of nice having someone else to foist Killian off on sometimes. He was horny and always wanted to do things, even when I had other plans, and having another woman who could deal with some of that could definitely come in handy.

  Maybe I was getting over whatever weird, gross feeling I’d been having. That was good. I didn’t want to invest any more time in worrying about Killian than I had to, and so I put him out of my mind for the rest of the afternoon.

  I had just enough time to shower and change before I met Simon at Phyllo, which was a very cute coffee shop that was half bakery.

  The smell of baklava and cinnamon rolls hit me as soon as I stepped in, and my stomach growled, reminding me I hadn’t really eaten since lunch time.

  There was tall man standing near the counter, and I eyed him for a second, wishing I’d come up with a plan for identifying Simon, who I had literally never seen before.

  The man in question was dressed in a sweater and jeans, wearing black rimmed glasses, and had curly blond hair that fell over his face and ears, making him look younger than he probably was. I looked at him for probably a bit too long, and he smiled at me, coming over. “Hi, Ashlyn.”

  I startled and smiled tentatively. “Simon?”

  “Yep. Sorry, I realized earlier today I had no idea who I was meeting and stalked you a little on social media, just so I wouldn’t make an idiot of myself.”

  I laughed, relieved. “That’s a brilliant idea, and I wish I’d thought of it,” I said. “It’s nice to meet you in person. You can call me Ash.”

  He held out a hand, and I shook it. “It’s very nice to meet you, Ash. I wish I had a cool nickname to give, but Simon doesn’t really shorten to anything.”

  “True,” I said. “But it’s a nice name all the same, you know? Very smart sounding.”

  Simon laughed again, and it was a very nice sound. “Well, thank you. I hope I live up to the smartness of my name.”

  We ordered our coffee, and I gave into temptation and had a piece of baklava, too. It looked delicious, studded with nuts and dripping with sticky honey, and when they put it on the plate, my mouth almost watered.

  Simon seemed amused, but not in a weird way. He seemed quiet and relaxed, getting his cappuccino and a scone, and he dropped his change into the tip jar with a smile.

  The barista in me liked that a lot.

  We made our way
over to one of the cozy little tables, settling across from each other. I sipped my latte, letting the hot coffee warm me from the cold day.

  “So,” Simon said after he’d had a bite of his scone. “My mother has told me absolutely nothing about you except you’re a hard worker and that’s a good thing, so I hope you can help me get to know you a bit better.”

  I laughed and nodded. “Sure. I mean, I’m not very interesting if you ask me. I just work and go to school and all that.” I gave him a brief rundown of the program I was studying for in school and the ins and outs of my not very exciting at all barista job.

  He listened intently, nodding and asking questions here and there, and I found it was actually pretty easy to talk to him. Simon was so... unpretentious. He seemed like the kind of guy who’d worked his way to where he was, and he listened and paid attention in a way that I liked.

  When I asked him about why he’d moved to the city, he lit up, eyes bright.

  “I’m actually starting my own business,” he said.

  “Really? What kind?”

  “I blow glass and then sell the stuff I make. Someone I know from a workshop I did a few years ago was looking to set up a studio around here, so I jumped at the chance. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you the art scene back home isn’t exactly what I’d call booming.”

  “Oh my god,” I said. “It’s terrible. There’s that lady who sells the hand painted postcards and the shop with the creepy dolls and that’s it.”

  “Oh god, don’t even bring up the creepy dolls. I hate those fucking things. My older sister bought me one as a joke when I was fifteen and I threw it away because it kept looking at me. Like, I could feel its eyes on me in the middle of the night, even when I put it in a drawer.”

  “Well, now you’re cursed,” I said, fighting to keep a straight face. “You’ve dishonored the dolls and they will have their vengeance.”

  “That’s not funny. That’s not even in the same zipcode as funny.” But he was smiling, and it lit his whole face up.

  He was very handsome, I had to say. It had been a while since I’d looked at a man with the intent to actually have it go somewhere, but Simon was pretty much the whole package. Funny, good looking, interesting to talk to. He had a way of talking that involved him using his hands and gesturing a lot, and it was very engaging.

  “Tell me more about glassblowing,” I said. “I’ve always been interested, but I’ve never tried it.”

  “Well, the hot glass does put people off. It’s dangerous, I won’t lie. I had to go to the hospital a few months ago because I dropped a hot piece and got red hot glass all over my foot. It was my fault for not wearing the right shoes to be in the studio, but sometimes the muse hits, and you don’t have time to go get proper footwear, you know?”

  I nodded. “You have to get the idea out before you lose it. My mediums involve a lot less hot glass and a lot more paper and paints, but I understand.”

  Talking to another artist was amazing. We had plenty to go on about, and before I knew it, it was closing in on seven at night.

  A barista came over to see if we needed anything else, and I glanced at my phone, surprised to have stayed so late.

  “Wow,” I remarked. “Time really flew. I should let you get out of here. I’m sure you have plenty to do.”

  “Actually,” he said. “I’m free for the rest of the evening, and if you don’t have any other plans, I was wondering if I could take you to dinner. It doesn’t have to be anything creepy, I promise, I’ve just been having a really nice time talking to you.”

  I could feel my cheeks going pink at the compliment, and I smiled at him, ducking my head a little. The baklava had been good, but I was ready for a meal, and the company was nothing to complain about.

  “Sure,” I replied, glancing up to smile at him. “I’d like that.”

  I spared a thought for Killian, and letting him know I actually was going out to dinner with Simon, but I put it out of my mind as quickly as it had come in. He was busy with Eve, and it wasn’t any of his business anyway.

  I’d tell him later, and he could tease me about it or whatever it was he was going to do. Something insufferable knowing him.

  If he could have his fun outside of our ‘marriage’ then so could I.

  Chapter 1

  Elle

  “Another day—another fucking dollar,” my brother hollered as he walked into the kitchen and dumped a sack of cash on the table before heading over to the fridge. It was so damn cliché, I actually burst out laughing.

  “Are you kidding me?” I asked. “Where the hell did you get that?”

  “Elle,” he said, as he poured himself a cup of coffee. “You literally have grown up in this lifestyle since you could babble, and yet you still wonder where a sack of cash comes from on a regular basis. What is wrong with you?”

  “I’m just asking,” I said, as I sipped my own café mocha. “I thought you were asleep all night. I didn’t realize that you were working.”

  “I was working,” he said. “While your lazy ass was sitting here.”

  “Whatever,” I waved my free hand in the air, “Is it real?”

  “Of course, it’s real,” he snapped. “What do you take me for?”

  I quirked an eyebrow at him.

  “It’s not the first time you've told me something was real when it wasn’t.”

  “It’s real. I just collected the profits from powder.”

  Powder was code word for whenever he dealt with drugs. I didn’t even bother asking what kind because it wasn’t my area. Now that my brother and I were adults, we handled different divisions within the family business. I had actually gone to school, and I used my talents to make us rich with insider trading.

  Clearly—we’re not the good guys.

  But we’re not necessarily lawless animals either. We have codes of how we handle things. Rules so to speak. Number one? No drugs to kids and No human trafficking. Those were the rules Nonno followed, and his father before him. Now dad makes the calls, but those ones haven’t changed.

  To us, nothing matters more than family. If you betray who you are, what you are, you may as well pack up and start a new life, because there would be nothing left here for you.

  Dad didn’t coddle me. He taught me to never fear the streets, or the danger that came with who we were; but we each had our roles to fill and mine was stuffed in the confines of our home. My Father had made me unafraid of dark alleyways, or men who said that they were going to take care of me since the days I could walk. I just preferred to actually use my brain once in a while, whereas my brother seemed to prefer to be the stereotypical mafia brute.

  “Are you going straight to the man?” I asked.

  “I am, in like two hours. Why?”

  “I’m just short on cash,” I shrugged. “And I wanted to go and get the new Gucci bag today before they were sold out. Call me shallow, but last time I waited, I lost out. I don’t plan on that happening again.”

  “With this cash?” he asked, and I met his eyes.

  “Sorry, am I not allowed?” I taunted him. I was entitled to an allowance every week, as were all of us. Most of it was in cash, and to tell you the truth, no one kept track of it that closely. We spent what we wanted, and we respected each other. At least, we were supposed to respect each other. A pair of Gucci boots every few weeks wouldn’t break the family, but if I was buying private islands, I might be called in for a talking to.

  “Of course,” my brother shrugged. “Take whatever you want. Just tell me how much it was.”

  “Two grand should cover it,” I said, as I counted out three. Who knew what else was going on in the Gucci shop, and I didn’t want to get caught without cash.

  “Sure, whatever,” he said. “Good luck.”

  “Uh huh,” I thought that was a weird thing to say, but I ignored him, and counted out what I needed again. I shoved it into my pocket and then stood up. “Thanks.”

  “Hey, did you hear about the Denali b
rothers?” he asked.

  “Why?” I said, as I went to get my coat. “What stupid ass thing have they done now?”

  “Just through the grapevine, I heard they were going to start dabbling in insider trading as well.”

  “Really?” I asked. “But they’re idiots.”

  “You should go and tell them that,” he said, with a snort.

  The Denalis brothers were our biggest rivals. Our two families had been fighting since what felt like the dawn of time. We had always been at odds, and we had screwed each other over more than once. That was just what we did; it was second nature. I think there had been an attempt at reconciliation maybe once, and that was it. My brother made a bigger deal of the rivalry than I did. It wasn’t that I didn’t hate them; because I did. I just had better things to do than care about a rivalry that my great grandfather started. I preferred to dedicate my time to making money.

  “OK, well just call me if you need me,” I said. “But I know you won’t.”

  “Live your life, little sister,” he chuckled and headed down the hall to one of the massive bedrooms, no doubt to get some sleep.

  Our new place was so big, I still hadn’t seen all the rooms. My Father had bought it recently, and we moved from what was already considered a mansion to this bigass sprawling estate. It brought us a lot closer to the Denalis territory, but it also gave us a lot more space.

  I think my father hoped that I would fall in love and start the next generation of the family or something. I probably wouldn’t, because I didn’t really believe in love. Love was for normal people, who fell in love with other normal people, and didn’t have to worry about the mafia. I never watch romantic movies or read romance novels because in my opinion, they filled your head with bullshit expectations.

  If I ever got married, it would be a marriage of alliance. I would probably have kids, that was the expectation, not because I wanted to be intimate with whoever they sold me off too, but I didn’t really focus on that part. It would just be another job like every other one I’ve had to do in this family. And I’d do it—because in this life, there’s a pecking order, and unfortunately—I’m not at the top.