Ruthless Rookie: A Hero Club Novel Read online

  Copyright © 2021 by Rachel Leigh and Cocky Hero Club, Inc.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the authors’ imaginations. Any resemblance to actual persons, things, living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

  Editor: Fairest Reviews Editing Service

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

  More from Cocky Hero Club

  Also by Rachel Leigh

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Mira

  After an eleven-hour flight from France to California that included a cat nap and a massive headache, we’ve finally touched down on Dad’s private runway outside of Santa Monica. When it’s time to deplane, I shuffle through my bag in search of my cell phone to call and let Dad know I’ve arrived. Once I have it, I tap his name and it rings and rings until it goes to voicemail. I end the call, never being one to leave a message.

  I fling the strap of my oversized Louis Vuitton bag over my shoulder and stand up, feeling slightly dizzy from the landing. I’ve flown on planes—private jets, rather—since I was born, but for some reason, I still get nauseous during takeoff and landing. Mom said up until I was six years old, I’d vomit during takeoff. Glad I got over that.

  “We’ve arrived, Ms. Glasson,” Henry, Dad’s pilot, announces over the intercom, “Julian will escort your belongings safely to Glasson Manor.”

  I walk out the door and take the first few steps onto the landing staircase but have to stop myself. “Are you ok, Ms.?” Julian asks from the bottom of the stairs.

  “Yeah. Just a little lightheaded. That’s what I get for skipping the in-flight lunch service offered on the flight.”

  “Yes. You need to eat. Get some meat on those bones,” Julian teases.

  I smile when what I really want to do is express how rude it is to comment on a woman’s weight, no matter what her frame. Even if he is right and I could gain a few pounds. This last year has been one of reflecting and self-discovery, and in the process, my eating habits have been sporadic. Most days, I skipped breakfast and went straight to the studio. Some nights, I skipped dinner and went straight to bed.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” I tell him with an eyeroll.

  Julian offers a hand to help me down the last few steps, and once my feet hit the ground, I draw in a deep and fulfilling breath of the fresh Santa Monica air. “Ahh, it’s nice to be home, Julian.”

  “I’m happy to hear that. Your parents will be happy to see you, once they return from their sabbatical that is.”

  I put on my sunglasses and walk toward the car waiting to take me to my childhood home. Julian takes my bag and walks at an amble pace beside me. “A well-deserved sabbatical,” I remind him.

  Stewart, the driver who works for my family, opens the door, and as I slide inside, Julian hands me my bag. “Enjoy your stay, Ms. Glasson.”

  “I will, thank you.” Stewart closes the door and I take my sunglasses off then pull my phone out of my pocket to try Dad one more time before I get to the house. When he doesn't answer, yet again, I end the call and drop it in my bag.

  A year away and I’m coming back to no one. Mom and Dad are vacationing in Tahiti. Lance is probably at home with his wife, not that they’d care much about my arrival. I have one friend left, Robby, and he’s in a committed relationship, meaning he’s practically married.

  Reality slaps me in the face—even at home, I’m still alone.

  I refuse to let my mind go there. To the place where I pity myself. This is my life and I am in control.

  “Stewart,” I grab the driver’s attention. “Could you please drop me at Tito's? I’ll call for a ride when I’m ready to return home.”

  “Are you sure, Ms. Glasson? You’ve done quite a bit of traveling today.”

  “No need to worry, Stewart.” I’m aware that my lengthy travel is not the reason that Stewart is concerned. He’s been one of our drivers since I was a kid. He knows of my past and he’s also aware of how hard my father has fought to keep his family life private.

  “As you wish.”

  Pulling out my compact mirror, I touch up my lips with a nude shade, then pat some powder on my nose. The bags under my eyes are apparent, but I’m not looking to take a man home tonight.

  On a whim, I decide to call Robby, just on the off chance that he might want to catch up at Tito's.

  “Mira Jane Glasson,” he emphasizes my name in excitement when he picks up on the first ring. “You must have the wrong number because my friend, Mira, doesn’t call me anymore.”

  “Oh, stop it.” I swat my hand at the empty space in front of me. “You know I’ve been insanely busy. How are you? How’s Luke?”

  “Fabulous. We’re both doing great. Just finished a few laps in the pool and thought about grabbing some dinner. Are you still in Provence or did you finally decide to return to civilization?”

  “Actually, I’m home. I just pulled up to Tito's. Are you up for grabbing dinner there? We could catch up and you can fill me in on all things Robby and Luke.”

  There’s a beat of silence before he responds, “Yes. Hell yes. I’d love to see you. Give me about ten to fifteen?”

  “Yay,” I squeal. “See you there.”

  Tito’s is located inside a fancy hotel, but as the valet arrives to open my door, Stewart’s already there. “Thank you.” I smile back at him and quickly realize he’s following behind me, so I stop and place a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll be fine, Stewart.”

  “You’re sure? Maybe I should consult your father.”

  “I’ll be just fine. I’ll call you soon,” I say in an encouraging tone.

  He gives me a nod, before hesitantly heading back to the running car that’s parallel parked in front of the valet station.

  The doorman holds open the door for me and I thank him.

  It’s just as I remember it. Cozy and lit-up with strings of white lights around the entire lounge. White leather couches line the walls. A full-length bar sits to the right with tables in the center of the room. The most gorgeous, crystal chandeliers hang freely from all over the ceiling. In the far corner, there’s an open space that’s used as a dance floor on the weekends.

  It’s probably best to avoid that area. The last thing I need is attention after only being back in the states for less than an hour.

  Everyone who knows me, knows about my past. But I’m ready to show them who I am today. People will gossip, and that’s okay. Fortunately, this isn’t some small town. I’ve managed to keep my life fairly private, even though I still somehow succeed at putting myself on display. Even though it wasn’t entirely my fault. A year ago, I wouldn’t have accepted any blame, but now, I’ll claim a small fraction of it.

  A year ago, I started a relationship
with a man. A man who was married—the same one that’s my brother’s best friend. Lance was the best man in Mark and Betsy’s wedding. I bought them a bread maker as a gift. Growing up, I always had a little crush on Mark. He was a bit of a tech nerd, but I always found him to be attractive. He was nothing like the guys I dated. Instead, he and Lance would spend their weekends creating video games. He was extremely intelligent, and I knew one day, he would make a name for himself. Boy, did he ever. He was only twenty years old when his games took off and were sold around the world. Every year since, he’s achieved more success, making him a billionaire who will never want for anything.

  The night of Lance’s wedding, I’d had a little too much to drink. Mark and Betsy were having problems, after only being married for a few short months. He told me he was sure they were headed for divorce. One thing led to another, and we woke up together in his hotel room. We didn’t leave that hotel for four days. After that, we met up whenever we got the chance.

  He told me he was filing for divorce and that I was the only one he wanted to be with. Stupidly, I believed him.

  One night we were messing around and decided to make a sex tape on the private rooftop of the hotel we were staying in. It was no big deal, just a little fun.

  About a month later, our affair was revealed. Even though I didn’t know it was an affair at the time. His wife showed up at my parents’ house where I was staying. She had found the video in Mark’s Cloud drive. I had no idea he never actually left her, let alone that they were still living together and carrying on with their normal lives while he lived another life with me.

  Needless to say, she divorced him and took half of his money. Then, she sold the tape to someone who put a hefty price tag on it. It wasn’t about the money for her; it was all about getting Mark and me back for what we’d done.

  My face was hidden in the video and I no longer have the bleach blonde hair I did then. Only my backside and nether regions were shown on-screen, but it was me—stark naked in six-inch pumps with my last name blasted all over the place, alongside the headline ‘Floyd Glasson of Glasson Waters’ daughter has affair with Billionaire, Mark Fenwick.’ It was shared everywhere. And by everywhere, I mean every social media platform, newspaper, and magazine.

  Dad’s company and reputation really took a hit and it was all my fault. Well, somewhat my fault.

  I’m almost positive that Niles Tanner, son of the infamous Richard Tanner, bought the tape from Betsy. Tanner Enterprises has viewed Dad’s company as competition ever since Dad refused to give my hand in marriage to Niles. I could never prove it was them because Mark’s wife refused to speak to me. I was obsessed with trying to prove it was the Tanner family behind this, so I tried to talk to her any chance I got. I went to her work, her home, and even her parents’ house. Eventually, she had a restraining order put on me. I didn’t blame her. I don’t blame her for anything she did. What Mark and I did was wrong. Even if I was under the assumption they were getting a divorce.

  That’s when I left. I had no choice. Me being here only caused more of a rift in my family. Dad spent his entire life trying to keep his family out of the limelight, and because of me, I put us all front and center. My face was never exposed, thankfully. I can still walk the streets and most people have no idea who I am. I don’t need security at my side, and I never wanted it. I want to live a normal life.

  In reality, I should have stayed away, but I can’t do that any longer. Dad needs me. This company needs me. And, I’m fully prepared to take whatever negativity is thrown at me for the sake of my family.

  I continue on my way to the bar but stop when I notice a gentleman staring at me. He’s gorgeous. Tan skin, jet-black hair, and eyes that match. That’s not what catches me off guard, though. It’s his black fluffy eyebrows that are dipped into a v and the scowl on his face that leads me to believe I just did something to offend him. “Can I help you?” I ask with a crooked smirk.

  He doesn’t respond. Instead, he turns back to face the bar on his swivel stool, picks up his small glass of bronze-colored liquid and swirls it around, clanking the ice against the glass.

  Weirdo. A devilishly handsome one, but still weird.

  I opt for a seat on the far end of the bar, where I’m not invading Mr. Groucho’s personal space. Unfortunately, it gives me a bird’s-eye view of him as he sits directly across from me on the opposite end.

  “What can I get for you?” the bartender asks.

  “Mojito, please.” I slide my card across the bar, but she leaves it sitting there, likely waiting to see if she needs to just run a tab.

  Without a word, she walks away to make my drink.

  The place is pretty empty tonight, aside from a couple having dinner at one of the tables and a few ladies having drinks on the couch on the south end. The jazz music gives the place a calming vibe, which is exactly what I was looking for.

  I thank the bartender when she slides me my drink. Just as I lift the glass, bringing the straw to my mouth, I notice Mr. Groucho staring at me over the brim of his now empty glass. Old me would call him out. New me is going to just sit here and keep my mouth shut.

  He orders up another drink then looks back at me. He makes no attempt to hide his gawking. Biting his lip, drumming his fingers against the dewed glass, he flashes me half of a smile.

  Normally, I don’t fall under the spell of mystery men who flirt, but there is something about this guy that makes my heart flutter. Not just because he’s so attractive, but his smile. It’s seductive and sexy.

  I take another sip of my drink then glance at my phone, wondering what’s taking Robby so long. I guess it’s only been fifteen minutes. I tap the side button to lock my phone and when I look back up, I notice the guy has fixed his gaze back on me. I quirk a brow, inviting him to say whatever’s on his mind. But he doesn’t say a word.

  When a sliver of light breaks through the cracked door, the mystery man’s eyes slide away from mine. But I keep looking at him, waiting for him to steal another glance.

  “Hey, pretty lady. You got plans tonight?” A voice comes from behind me.

  It’s not an unfamiliar voice, though. “Robby!” I jump up and throw myself into his arms. “Wow.” I smirk, stepping back and taking in the body in front of me. What once was an overweight teddy bear, now stands before me as a fit, clean-shaven man. “Damn, Robby. You’re all grown-up.”

  “Mmhmm, you’re just trying to butter me up since you never answer my calls.”

  He drops down on the stool beside me and calls over to the bartender. “Scotch on the rocks, and whatever she’s having. Keep them coming, please.”

  “I see that your business is doing just as fine as that body of yours.”

  “Oh, stop it.” He blushes, sweeping a hand through the air. “But, if you must know, business is going great. As for the body, I’ve simply started a daily workout routine and cut out potato chips.”

  “No, not potato chips,” I tease.

  “Hey, it’s working so lay off.”

  One of the things I love about my friendship with Robby is that we can go a year without talking and then go right back to where we left off. I also love that he doesn’t have a serious bone in his body. All my life I’ve been surrounded by people who are all work and no play. It’s part of the reason that all I wanted to do was play. It was boring being so well-behaved all the time. Still is, but my priorities have changed.

  Chapter Two

  Mira

  I’m three drinks in and starting to feel the effects of the liquor that’s coursing through my veins. My eyes have been flirting with the stranger across the bar all night, but I’ve been so distracted by Robby while we catch up, that I failed to notice the guy left.

  Robby excuses himself to use the restroom before we leave and I finish off my final drink. My head begins spinning, the booze hitting me all at once. I’ve learned that I have limits when it comes to alcohol and I’ve reached it. The last thing I need is a repeat of ‘the sex tape scandal
of twenty-twenty.’

  I call over the bartender, wanting to pay the tab before Robby arrives because I know he’ll try to pay it for both of us. “Could I get our bill, please?”

  The bartender smiles with her palms pressed to the bar. “Actually, it’s already been taken care of.”

  “Darn Robby,” I mutter as I stuff my wallet back into my bag. “I knew he’d pay for it.”

  “Actually, it wasn't your friend. It was the other gentleman.”

  I look around, wondering who she is talking about. The lounge is completely empty now, aside from me, and Robby, who’s still in the bathroom.

  The bartender goes into the back and just as I grab my phone to drop it in my bag, a brush of air hits the lobe of my ear, bringing strands of hair in front of my face. I sweep them away, but I freeze when I sense the presence of someone behind me. I don’t turn around as the smooth, yet gruff sound of a man’s voice infiltrates my senses. “You’re welcome.”

  I spin around on the stool, bumping the stranger’s legs with my knees. I tip my chin to get a better look at his face in the dim light of the room. His eyes are just as dark as they were while watching me from across the bar. There’s a small stubble of black hair on his cheeks. The scent of bourbon and cedarwood roll off him and it makes me dizzy, in a good way. “Thanks.” I prop my elbows on the bar behind me.

  He bites the corner of his lip with a crooked smile and just stands there like I’m expected to drop to my knees in gratitude. Oh, my god. That’s it. My cheeks begin to feel hot and I’m not sure if it’s the alcohol or the fact that my blood has reached its boiling point. “You have me pegged wrong, Mister. I’m not a prostitute.” I brush him to the side and stand up, ready to take flight and get as far away from this creep as possible.