Dirty Playboy Read online

“Okay.” Rick backs up a step as I get into my car, but he looks as if he’s forcing himself to let me leave. Like he doesn’t want me out of his sight at all—ever.

  I roll the window down once my car starts. “Thank you, again. I mean it.”

  “See you tomorrow, Mary.”

  I give him a weak smile and pull away. In that moment, I think I leave a little part of my heart back there with him. We’ve hung out, and of course he’s attractive, but this was the first time I’ve ever felt something deeper with him. Deeper than physical attraction. A meaningful moment.

  The drive to my apartment takes forever, and I wonder how this will change my life. Am I going to be afraid to walk around corners? Walk downtown? Do anything? I know it will have a psychological impact of some kind. I make a note to talk to my doctor about seeing someone to discuss it. I don’t want it to change my life, but I know it’s going to, some way or somehow.

  Sure enough, when I get out of my car, I practically run up the stairs to my apartment and unlock the door as fast as I can. Once I’m inside, I slam the door shut and lock the dead bolt too. I lean back up against the wall and do my best to breathe. Surely, this will get better. It’s because it just happened. The memory is still new and fresh.

  Finally, I drop my bag on the couch, but I can’t help but move to draw the shades closed on the front window that overlooks the parking lot. I start to close them when my eyes catch something familiar. I squint to see, and I feel something for the second time tonight.

  Before noon, I thought I was going to murder Rick Lawrence if he didn’t leave me alone. Now, I watch his car do a three-point turn around in my parking lot, then I catch the profile of his face in a streetlight as he drives away.

  He followed me all the way home in his car, then sat across the way and watched to make sure I got to my apartment safe and sound. I don’t think he has any idea I just saw him either. His eyes never came up to the window. Something stirs inside me again. He didn’t do it to try to win brownie points or leverage some deal with me. He didn’t make sure I saw him to get some kind of credit. He did it because he genuinely cares about my safety.

  I flop down on the couch and release a huge sigh. My life feels so out of control. Everything that’s happening is so not me. What in the world is going on between Rick and me?

  I don’t know what I’m going to do, about any of this. Where does everything go from here?

  Rick Lawrence

  Decker has been droning on and on about Wells Covington in my office for twenty minutes, and I couldn’t tell you one thing he’s said. I think he’s telling me shit I already know about Pacific Imports or something. He likes to talk to everyone like they’re children and he’s the only one with brain cells. It happens with his type. He’s a controlling micromanager, so naturally I tune out.

  All I can think about is all the shit that happened with Mary last night. I haven’t seen her all day and I have these Jesus of Nazareth tickets still burning a hole in my pocket.

  “Do you think he’s aware of the behavior of these subsidiary companies? Found anything that would give definitive proof to it?” Decker stares at me waiting for a response.

  I glance up at him. “Sorry, what?” What is it with Covington? I think he’s more obsessed than I am with Mary. There are a few unusual things, but this fucker owns pieces of thousands of companies.

  “Are you even fucking listening to me? This shit’s important.”

  My eyes widen, and I try to fully wake up. I haven’t felt present all morning. I was up all night long with a damn adrenaline rush from all the shit that went down. “Been a rough couple days. Just trying to focus.”

  Decker glares for a long two seconds, then finally, his face softens a little. “You need to take the day off or something? Get your mind right? I need you at a hundred percent around here.”

  I think anyone else he’d rip their damn head off, but usually I’m one step ahead of everything and it’s throwing him off as well.

  I’m not sure he even knows how to respond to this situation.

  I shake my head at him. “No, I’m fine, just email me whatever you want, and I’ll make sure it’s taken care of.”

  That’s good. Maybe he’ll get the hell out of here so I can focus on my real problem… How to make Mary at least tolerate me enough to go on a date with me. It’s the only thing I can think about.

  Decker turns on a dime and heads out. He’s always in a hurry to be somewhere. Without looking back, he says, “You’ll get an email soon. Figure your shit out.” At the last second, he adds, “Please,” before he turns the corner.

  I have to laugh at that. He never says please to anyone. This whole Wells Covington thing is so weird. He has plenty of clients into far more nefarious shit, especially on the criminal side with Donavan. I wonder if it’s some weird jealousy thing because Dexter brought Covington to the firm. I don’t know. It’s not my job to decipher their brotherly politics.

  I inhale, finally able to breathe again once he’s gone. My mind immediately goes back to Mary. Before everything happened last night, today was going to be the big day. The moment where I finally bust out the tickets and ride off with her into the sunset. I’ve been wearing her down, slowly, over goddamn half a year, inching my way into her life, slowly and methodically. I can’t believe that dumb fuck pulled a knife on her. Is this even real life?

  Today’s supposed to be special. Well, I say that about every day I plan to ask her to the play. I’ve built up to this moment and then I just fucking snapped last night when I saw that guy. I’m surprised I was able to stop myself from bludgeoning that fucker into a bloody pulp. I think I kind of did, actually. Don’t give a shit. You don’t pull knives on people and try to rob them, especially not Mary. She’s mine, and I will fuck anyone up who even thinks about harming her.

  Relax, concentrate. Focus on the goal.

  As usual, the logical part of my brain is right.

  The tickets.

  I can still do this. I can still get Mary to go on a date with me. I’m Rick fucking Lawrence, the master of this shit. I want to say I’m going through with all this because I’ve come too far, put in too much work. But I can’t. There’s something about this woman, and I’ve known it since day one. She’s the one for me. The only one for me. The universe spoke the first time I saw her.

  I think about her when I wake up. I think about her at work. I think about her when she’s around and when she’s not around. She’s kind and sweet and caring and good. She’s not corrupt and selfish, like every other asshole on this planet. She’s pure. She’s not, me. She’s a little package of good in this shitty world and it draws me to her.

  I reach into my drawer. Fuck it. I’m doing it. There’s no going back now. I pull out the cupcakes I ordered from Sugar Bliss. Pried that information out of Quinn a long time ago without her even knowing what I was doing. That woman is a wealth of information about office gossip and who’s doing what. She told me Mary doesn’t talk about much, but she raved about the cupcakes the firm had from there for someone’s birthday.

  In my experience observing the human race, you can get a lot of what you want with food. The shit that matters to a woman is less about what you’re giving them, and more about the amount of time you spent thinking about what you’re giving them. Hence, these tickets and these cupcakes.

  Mad at me or not, she’ll appreciate the lengths I went through, which means she’s going on this fucking date.

  I believe, therefore it will happen. It’s the only logical conclusion.

  I start down the hallway, toward the bullpen of cubicles where Mary and the paralegals work. I need to surprise her, a kamikaze-style approach where she doesn’t see me coming. If she notices me, she’ll bolt. I have to trap her and make her hear me out, control the situation from all angles.

  My stomach tightens with each step I take. I’ve never had a woman make me nervous before, but it’s Mary. It’s Mary fucking Patrick. This is what she does to me, and I welco
me it. I love feeling this way, even if it sometimes turns me into a blubbering mess.

  A few people stop and just stare as I walk by. Yes, I’m aware it probably seems odd, watching me carry cupcakes toward the paralegals, but I don’t give a fuck. I have tunnel vision. All I’m worried about is accomplishing my goal. Being denied is not an option.

  Just as I’m about to reach the bullpen, where I can block Mary’s escape route, her head pops up.

  “Motherfucker,” I mumble as I leap out of the way so she can’t see me. I duck down a hall and flatten up against the wall, holding my breath as she struts past without seeing me.

  Goddamn it.

  Now, I have to sit here holding a box of cupcakes and wait for her to return.

  Worth it.

  As long as nobody comes up and tries to talk to me.

  As soon as I think it, Dexter walks by. At first, he goes past, and I don’t think he sees me. I hold my breath, hoping he keeps going.

  No such luck.

  He stops mid-stride, and I can practically feel the smirk form on his face as he realizes what he just saw. He slowly turns and takes a step toward me.

  “Sup?” I try to hide the cupcakes behind me with a sleight of hand, but the damn box is too big and I damn near drop them. They bobble around in my hand and I have to adjust to keep them balanced.

  “Whatcha doin’, Rick?” He smiles his ass off, eagerly waiting to hear this story then report back to his brothers and anyone else that’ll listen.

  I start to make up some kind of excuse, but his grin just grows wider.

  “Goddamn it, you’re ruining shit. Just get the fuck out of here.”

  “It have to do with Mary?” His eyebrows rise.

  I shake my head. “Just being nice to the—”

  “Cut the shit, you’re not nice to anyone but her.”

  My jaw clenches. “Fine, fucker, you got me. Just leave me alone.”

  He tsks me. “No, I don’t think I will. In fact, I think I’ll just go find Mary. Didn’t she just walk by?”

  “You son of a bitch. You wouldn’t.”

  He nods slowly. “Oh, I would. Or, I could leave now.”

  I shake my head in disbelief. Inside, I know I deserve every bit of this. These assholes rely on my services and I always make them do favors for me, even though they pay me a ridiculous amount of money already.

  I whisper-scream, “What do you want, dickhead?”

  “The tickets to the Bears’ suite we gave you, opening day.”

  My eyes widen. “What? Why? You have your own tickets.”

  He takes a step toward me with that shit-eating grin on his face. “Because I want your tickets.” He slowly opens the box and pulls a cupcake out right in front of me.

  I stare at his hand in disbelief. This motherfucker. Everything is about power and control with these brothers. It’s why I love them, and I don’t give a shit about the Bears tickets either. Most of the time I don’t even show up. Hell, most of the time I’m at church with Mary on Sundays. I just want to let them know, I get what I want, when I want it. One day, I’ll need something for real and they won’t hesitate to provide. This is a symbolic loss of power, which is more valuable than any tickets to the Bears’ suite. But it’s a price I’m willing to pay for Mary.

  “What’s it gonna be?” He takes a long bite of the cupcake enjoying every second of this.

  “Fine, asshole.”

  “Pleasure doing business with you,” he says as he smiles and walks off.

  Dick.

  As he walks out into the lobby of the firm, Mary flashes in front of me. She’s walking fast and doesn’t see me at all. I fall in quickly behind, on my toes, shadowing her all the way to her desk.

  She walks into the cubicle, and I fill the small entrance to it, effectively caging her in. She must notice my shadow because she turns around just as I’m about to speak.

  The second her eyes land on mine, her whole body stiffens, and her face tightens. Fuck, it’s so hot, and at the same time I don’t like it when she looks upset with me. Not right now, anyway. It’s not the mood I’m aiming for. This is my big moment, not some random day of the week.

  “This better be about work.”

  I grin. “I mean, it’s happening at work. That’s about the best I can give you.”

  Her eyes land on the cupcakes, but she pretends not to care. It’s a farce. She wants them, it’s obvious, but I don’t want to rub it in that I know she knows she wants them.

  “What do you want?”

  Normally, a man at this point would offer up the cupcakes as a gift, but once she has that, she’ll send me on my way. I think she needs to work for them a little more. Okay, I don’t want to leave yet, and that’s why I don’t hand them over. I want to make this moment with her last as long as possible.

  “To see you. Why else would I be here?”

  She sighs. “I don’t have time for this. Please go.”

  “Why are you trying to get rid of me so quick?”

  “Because I’m working.”

  “So am I.”

  “No, you’re bothering me.”

  “Are you upset with me or something?” It comes out before I can stop it. It was the worst possible thing I could’ve said, but my brain goes to shit any time I’m around this woman. I wince the second it comes out because I know what’s about to happen.

  She takes a step at me. “Are you kidding?”

  God, she’s so beautiful. I can’t even focus when her soft, brown eyes land on mine. Her hair is back in a ponytail, highlighting her cheek bones. She’s so angry, but I see right through it. See through all the red and the frustrated words, right there in her irises. She’s mad because she cares. We’ve played this game for months, but it’s been there, and I can’t look away from it. I can’t ignore it. I won’t ignore it. She’s the only truly good thing in my life.

  “You really want to do this right here, right now?” She grinds her teeth and lowers her voice so nobody else can hear.

  “I was trying to protect you.”

  “I just want to work. Please just let me.” She folds her arms across her chest.

  Fuck, what am I doing? This is all wrong. It wasn’t supposed to go this way. None of this is going according to plan. It was supposed to be a happy moment, and I’m fucking it all up.

  What is it they always say about nice guys? They finish last and shit. Then they always tell you to come from the heart. Women are such a fucking mystery.

  What am I supposed to do now? With any other woman I’d blow them off, act like a dick. Human beings want what they can’t have, and when you open your heart to someone, they know they’ve got you. I don’t want to be that way with Mary, though. I don’t want to be an asshole to her to get what I want.

  I’m so confused.

  Should I be a hardass here? Or do I lay myself out there for this woman? Should I put all my vulnerabilities on the table and face rejection? And not rejection from some chick at a bar I don’t give a shit about. Rejection from the only woman I’ve ever loved in my entire life, who has no idea I’m in love with her. Or at least doesn’t know how seriously I actually love her, and thinks I’m playing some kind of sick game.

  Go from the heart, dude. Fuck it, just do it, pussy!

  I hold the cupcakes out at her. “I got these for you. I’ve also had these tickets for months.” I pull out the tickets to Jesus of Nazareth. “I know the cupcakes are your favorite, and I overheard you talking at church, telling Jeremiah how you’ve always wanted to see the play, and have never had the opportunity. I did this before everything went down last night, and I want to figure that out with you. But I wanted to see if we could put that aside for a bit, and if you would go with me? Not as two friends going out to something together. I want to pick you up, take you to dinner, and drive you home after.”

  Literally, none of that came out the way I imagined it. I’m such a fucking moron. I should’ve waited and regrouped when I had my wits about me.

>   Now, my nuts are on the chopping block facing judgment from a piss-poor date proposal.

  Mary takes the cupcakes from me, and I swear her lips curl up the slightest bit, but then mash back into a thin line. “You’re asking me on a real date, after everything that happened last night? This is your timing, when you thought it’d be a good idea to do this?” She glares around, worried someone might actually see us.

  Thank God the paralegals around her have headphones on, and nobody has walked by.

  I stare down at her. “Yes. Sorry about the timing, but I’ve been planning this for a long time. Will you go out with me? On a real date?”

  She considers it for a split second, then shakes her head.

  I swear my heart cracks in two the second I see her do it.

  Her eyes roam up to mine, and I can tell she’s dead serious. “No.”

  What’s left of my heart squeezes inside my chest like a damn vise, and all the air leaves my lungs. It’s totally unexpected. I did the nice guy shit just right, the way they do in the movies. I went through every detail, the cupcakes, the tickets, thought it all out.

  I’ve never felt anything like this. I’ve never been rejected.

  Did that really just happen? I thought for sure even if I fucked everything up, I still had about a ninety percent chance at success. My blood starts to boil, and it’s not pure rage, it’s a simmering under the surface of the skin. It’s a culmination of the situation, the timing, the sequence of events and circumstances leading up to this.

  “No?” It’s the only word that escapes my lips.

  “I’m sorry. It’s just not a good time.”

  My mouth takes over before my brain can catch up. “You kidding me right now? Do you know what I had to do to get those tickets because I thought you wanted them? No?” I stare at her, wide-eyed, bewildered.

  “Have you never been told ‘no’ before? I need to get back to work, Rick. Here.” She tries to hand me the cupcakes back, a rejection of everything, not just the proposal. It’s clear she wants absolutely nothing to do with me.

  I shake my head. “Keep them.” The simmering under my skin heats up to an alarming degree, and I don’t think I can control it. I just need to keep my shit together. But to hell with playing nice. If she doesn’t want to do this the normal way, I’ll fucking show her how I get shit done.