Wealthy Playboy (Cocky Suits Chicago Book 7) Read online

  “It did nothing for me. No form of carnal or emotional gratification, in either role.”

  I shake my head slightly to pull myself from this sexual daze he just put me in with nothing but a stare. For some reason I really can’t picture him being a submissive, at all. This whole revelation is just—perplexing as all hell. It makes no sense. “Why come here then? Why let the press run these crazy stories on you and spread all kinds of rumors? I know it affects your bottom line, limits some of your client base with the pearl clutchers.”

  Covington nods out to the room. “For them.”

  “Them?” I glance around at the people in the room.

  “Anyone who lives this lifestyle. I have several acquaintances, here and in Manhattan, and elsewhere, who practice these things with their spouses, partners, completely safe and with mutual consent—and they live in fear of it being revealed. I’m trying to do my part to normalize it. Whatever I can do, anyway.”

  “Shift the Overton window?”

  “Exactly.” He nods as he says it. “Not to mention, I like to come here because it’s fascinating to me. The power dynamics. The people. They’re interesting. Remember when I said I don’t like boring? This is not boring. And if I can help make it seem more normal and mainstream in society, then it makes their lives better. They don’t have to hide in shame at what gets them off and makes them happy.”

  I take a second to process everything he just said. “Aren’t you worried someone might find out you don’t actually practice the lifestyle?”

  There he goes, staring at me again. “Nobody will know unless you tell them. I participate in the clubs I frequent on occasion, so it doesn’t raise any alarms with anyone here, make them feel uncomfortable, like I’m some kind of outsider. Plus, I like coming here. The people are the best. This is the only place I know that doesn’t judge me as some billionaire corporate raider. Hence, the problem of whether or not I could trust you.”

  “Guess we’ll find out, won’t we? You didn’t really give me a choice.” I don’t know if I should be angry or impressed that he dropped that on me.

  “Yes, we will.” His lips curl up a little at the corners, like our situation is what he derives gratification from; the unknown.

  Am I the only person he’s ever told this?

  “So, what do you think? Interested in trying something out?” He gestures over to one of the tables.

  Was that a joke? I’m pretty sure it’s a joke.

  Regardless, the same tingling rips through my veins again, every time he brings up something remotely sexual. It’s like he’s trying to prime me, flirting, teasing. To say I’m not aroused would be untrue. Fact is, I haven’t had sex in a long time, and I’m pretty sure Covington would be up to the task.

  Get your life together, Meadow. He’s everything you hate. Despite this rather humane side of him.

  “It’s not my thing.” I swallow a little. “But I agree with you, it is interesting. The power dynamic intrigues me too. It’s nice to see females in control once in a while.” I nod over at the woman spanking the man. “You guys kind of have it coming.”

  He looks at me in a way I can only describe as a look that says he’d like to spank me.

  I shake my head, trying to ignore the endorphins coursing through my blood. “So what are you into then? If not this?”

  What the fuck? Why did you just ask that?

  Covington’s tongue darts out just slightly and wets his lower lip before he starts to speak. I want to say it does nothing for me, but it does. I should not be having this conversation, let alone leading it. It’s not my purpose for being here, but I can’t help how curious I am.

  “Honestly, I’m not really sure.”

  I lean back. It’s about the most unsexy answer possible.

  “I have an active sex life. I’m always safe. Get a physical release. I’ve never been drawn to a woman on an emotional level before. To be completely truthful, sometimes I wonder if I’m a sociopath because I rarely feel anything. I barely relate to anyone, and since I was a child, I’ve always felt like an alien, like I don’t belong here. Like some kind of freak experiment being observed from afar. I rarely relate to people or their motivations and actions.”

  “Bullshit.”

  He blinks. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. You’re not a sociopath.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “The FBI thing. The modesty about it. The reason you’re here. Those are emotional courses of action. It’s related to having feelings, whether you admit it to yourself or not. You’re wired differently—that’s for damn sure—but you’re not a sociopath. You long to do the right thing and justify the shit things you do, just like anyone else on the planet. There’s no doubt you’re anything but normal on the intelligence curve, but you’re more normal than you think, on a human distribution.”

  Wells stares back at me for a long second. “I like you, Meadow.”

  He’s getting to me. He’s so getting to me, and I don’t know if I can put the brakes on this thing, because let’s face it, I want him. I’m not going to kid myself into thinking there will be a long, happy relationship and we’ll fall in love and have kids. But I’m attracted to him. Not in a million years did I envision this night going the way it is, but I don’t want to be anywhere else in the world right now.

  My brain fights itself, trying to reconcile how he does what he does every day, yet seems to have a heart for people. Some kind of moral code guiding his principles.

  “I will concede on the real estate project. Not because I want something from you, but because I know you care about it. You came here. You listened to me with an open mind. That’s all I wanted. I’ll get with you to work out a deal, and have my lawyers begin on the paperwork.” He stands up.

  What the fuck? I’m so excited I could jump up and down, but I have to get a grip on myself. It’d be inappropriate on so many levels.

  As best as I can, despite my body trembling with elation, I get up and follow him through the place and out the same way we came in.

  When we get to the car, I stop Covington and look up at him. The moonlight holds his features in sharp relief, and I could kiss him. I really could.

  Finally, I say, “Wells?”

  “Yes?”

  “I like you, too.”

  “I’m glad.”

  Our eyes lock as he says it. I don’t even know what I’m doing at this point. All I know is I want to live in this moment a little longer, and surprisingly, I want to know even more about him. I want to see where this goes. It feels wrong, like I’m clinging to him because he just did something nice for me, but that’s not it at all. The feelings were there before the revelation.

  “I should probably get you home. It’s getting late.”

  I shake my head at him. “It’s still early. Take me to your place. I want to see it.”

  What the fuck did you just say, Meadow?

  Wells Covington

  I know before we’ve driven two blocks that I’m not getting laid tonight. There’s no way it’s happening, and to be honest, that’s fine by me. She said what she said in the moment, and she has forty-five minutes to talk herself out of it on the drive. Once she sees where I live, those old reservations will boil to the surface, and it’s not going to be pretty.

  Sometimes I hate being able to anticipate the future in advance.

  My pressing concern is how she disarmed me tonight. Taking her to the dungeon wasn’t in the original plan, nor was revealing one of my deepest secrets. Jesus fucking Christ, I barely even know this woman. I thought we’d go to Al’s, have a nice, fun meal, learn about each other, like a normal first date. I’d give up the real estate deal, and we’d make plans for a second date, if things went as planned.

  The real estate deal.

  Fuck, I’m almost happy that’s off my plate. It’s a loser now, and I hate to lose. She wants it. That’s a win-win situation, everyone gets what they want in the end.

  No, th
e alarming thing is how much information I just gave her. The FBI sting, the BDSM revelation, those things, as altruistic as they are, could hurt me. It could hurt my business, bad. The media would spin the fuck out of it. I’ve made plenty of enemies there.

  I glance over and think she’s worth it to myself, but I’m still unsure. I really hope she’s worth it. I’ve just taken on more risk in two hours than I’ve ever stomached in my entire life. Yeah, she’s beautiful, and fucking smart. I’ve never had someone who seems to get me, and I’m making irrational decisions because of it. Fucking reckless. I’ve never felt a pull like this before, and about now I’d walk right off the edge of a cliff chasing after it, and not even worry about hitting the goddamn ground.

  “How far away is it?” Meadow grins.

  Glad one of us is still happy and thinks they’re getting fucked tonight.

  “Forty-five minutes. Right off the lake. We could go somewhere else in—”

  “I want to see your place.” She pauses and takes a deep breath. “This isn’t something I usually do. I want to know you, not be taken to some hotel room.”

  I look straight ahead at the road. “Fair enough.” She’s going to get to know me, all right.

  While she sits in the seat, eagerly anticipating what’s to come, my brain goes into overdrive, trying to figure out exactly how the night took this course of action and why.

  It doesn’t take long to analyze.

  I know myself.

  I agreed to take her to my house, knowing the outcome, because it will create conflict. Conflict and competition get me off, spike my dopamine levels. They’re what drive me. Sometimes, when I go up against someone, be it a company or an individual, I create an entire narrative in my head. Stories that may or may not even be true, but then I use it for fuel to make sure I destroy them and their business at all costs, just to get the outcome I want.

  It’s the same principle here. Conflict makes life interesting. It will make this situation with Meadow interesting. I’ll sabotage the whole damn thing, just to see if I can win her back over.

  Fuck me. I need to go see my shrink, bad. I can’t believe I’m doing this with her. I just put billions of dollars, other people’s livelihoods, my relationships with my friends and colleagues, at risk. For what? For one night of impressing Meadow Carlson?

  The entire drive out to my place, it’s quiet. Too quiet.

  Meadow is thinking, so it’s understandable. I know she’s playing out the new information she received from me a thousand different ways. Permutations, variables, she’ll run through every scenario like a human supercomputer.

  I wince when we pull down the private drive that leads to my gate. I already know what’s going to happen.

  “Open gate.” I give the command to the Tesla, hoping the gate opens before we get there.

  It doesn’t. I have to stop and wait.

  I can’t even look at Meadow to gauge her reaction to it.

  It’s gaudy as hell, with a giant golden “WC” right in the middle. I did it on purpose, just to fuck with people. Don’t get me wrong, I love my house. It’s my sanctuary. But it’s over the top like no other. I did the same thing I do to other hedge funds when I moved into town; established dominance. Solely so a bunch of rich pricks didn’t think they could push me around. I built bigger and better.

  Maybe it was foolish, in hindsight. I don’t need anything remotely close to this size, but it’s an investment. I’m a human being, and making mistakes is what we do. It’s what you learn from them that gives you an edge.

  The gate hasn’t fully opened when I turn in.

  I glance over, knowing I shouldn’t, and watch her eyes widen as we pass through. Then, slowly, a glare forms on her face.

  I’m so ridiculous I actually welcome the argument that will take place when we reach the house. I look forward to it. As much as I bared my soul to this woman earlier tonight, I like seeing her fiery. I want to push her buttons, get her riled up.

  I snake around the golf course, past the helipad, and I damn near laugh, because I can feel the powder keg brewing next to me. Everything my house represents is everything she hates.

  I think she made me take her here on purpose too. I think secretly, she wanted this to happen. She wants me as bad as I want her. That advantage shifted to me earlier. She’s going to fight it tooth and nail, and I’m going to love every goddamn second of it. I don’t buy her not going to a hotel, I never do this kind of thing spiel. If all she wanted to do was fuck, she’d have been perfectly fine with that arrangement. Truth be told, I don’t want to just fuck her, as fun as it might be.

  By the time I park, she’s already out of the car and has her phone out.

  She hasn’t made a call yet, but she will.

  The evening is done in her mind.

  Finally, she looks up at me. “Nice place.”

  I nod and smirk. “I like it. Ready to go see my room?”

  Fuck, the fire in her eyes. Her standing in front of my gigantic mansion, looking like she wants to burn the place to the ground, it couldn’t be more perfect. Yeah, she knew exactly what she was doing, asking me to bring her here.

  Her fingers begin to tremble. I start toward her, loving how her cheeks redden with every step I take.

  “I thought you were different somehow.” She shakes her head. “Fuck, I don’t know why. That was a hell of a presentation back there, during our meeting.”

  “Thought it was a date?”

  Her jaw clenches. “It was not a date.”

  “Pretend all you want, Meadow. You enjoyed yourself.”

  “Briefly.” She nods, but with purpose. “Briefly. Until I had time to think.”

  “Maybe you should think about this.” Before she can respond, I yank her into me and plant my lips right on hers.

  She practically melts in my arms, both of our hands roaming. I lick and explore her mouth, and she reciprocates. Goddamn, she’s perfect.

  I’ve kissed many women, but none like this. There’s something here, something not even my brain can quantify. A magnetic attraction, binding us together, and simultaneously trying to rip us back apart, searching for some kind of balance.

  In the middle of the kiss, Meadow pulls away. “What am I doing?” She glares up at me. “What the hell are you doing to me?” Her eyes dart around, like she can’t believe she just said that out loud.

  I can so relate to her right now, because I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing either. But I want to keep doing it.

  She then swipes angrily on her phone. “I’ll call an Uber. This was a mistake.”

  I take a step toward her, and she has to take two in retreat to match my stride. “Mistake or not, you felt that kiss. Right down into the tips of your fingers and toes.”

  She backs away a few more steps, putting even more distance between us, sneering at my house, punching buttons on her phone.

  Now, it’s time to really piss her off. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll have my driver take you home, save you some money.”

  Her entire body stiffens. “I don’t give a shit about saving money. I’m not having your personal driver parade me around town in one of your cars. What’s wrong with you?” She glares right at me.

  All I can think is how I want to kiss her again. As much fun as it’d be to take her up to my room and fuck her so hard she can’t walk straight tomorrow, I’m already looking forward to the chase. Pissing her off then going after her. Winning her over. Not going to lie, it stings a little, the way she seems to abhor my lifestyle, but I fucking love how frustrated she is.

  I shrug. “Just being practical.”

  “Practical?” She fakes a laugh, then turns around and starts walking down the driveway. “Nothing about you is fucking practical.”

  I snicker to myself.

  She’s not wrong.

  “Let’s do this again sometime. Maybe next week.”

  All I see is a middle finger fly up over her shoulder, and she never turns back.

  F
uck, I’ve got it bad for this woman. Real bad.

  Meadow Carlson

  I can’t believe I almost fell for Wells Covington’s bullshit. That’s what happens when you do things on a whim, buy into someone’s story. The entire ride to his house, I thought through everything. What’s his angle? Men like him don’t just write off investments. I know them intimately. Some of them literally kill people to make money, only they do it mostly legally. I’ve seen men like him buy pharma companies and jack up the cost of life-saving medications, own factories where the conditions are so bad it causes depression and suicides. It’s legal fucking murder.

  He’s playing some kind of game with the Parker project. Something is off. Something that will make me look like an idiot in the end.

  Don’t even get me started on his house, from the giant gold initials on the gate, to a fucking golf course for one. The man is everything I stand against. The exact opposite of anything I’d look for in a potential life partner.

  The worst part is, no amount of rational feeling changes the fact I’m more aroused than I’ve ever been in my life. The way he kissed me, then described it perfectly. I wanted to punch him in his smug face. Because yes, I did feel it all the way down to my damn fingers and toes, and I hate him even more for knowing he had that effect on me.

  Ugh!

  Men.

  I need to regroup. I need to focus and have a plan. Flying blind is not how I live my life.

  My phone rings while I wait for the Uber. It’s my mom. Maybe she can bring me out of this funk I’m in. I haven’t heard her voice in what seems like forever.

  We used to be close, but we’ve drifted apart the last few years, with how busy I am. I still check in on occasion, go out for lunch, hang out on the weekends. I love her to death, it’s just hard for me to be close to anyone. I chalk it up to my personality. I don’t feel deep connections to people and I think it all comes from, well—I don’t even want to talk about him.