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"You’re smarter than you look." He smirks.
I firm my lips. "And you’re not as dumb as you look, either."
His gaze widens. "Dumb? Did you just call me dumb?"
"You know what they say" —I thrust out a hip— "when you have a good-looking face, chances are, there’s nothing between the ears."
Cade’s jaw hangs open, then he chuckles. "Very good."
"You talk as if you didn’t think I could hold my own in a conversation," I scoff.
"Oh, I’m sure you can." He raises his shoulder. "If not, my sister wouldn’t have hired you."
"I took her on because Abby showed a lot of potential. In fact—" Zara turns to me. "I see something of me in you."
A warmth suffuses my chest. "You do?"
She nods. "You have the same hunger, the need to prove yourself. That thirst for success that pushes you to try harder, to go that extra mile—"
"Which is why I think you’ll be perfect for the role of my new Communications Manager," Cade steps in smoothly.
Eh, excuse me? Did he just say what I think he did?I jerk my chin in his direction. "Come again?"
"I need help managing my social media profiles, as well as my PR. And you heard my sister, you’re among the best on her team. So, I’ve decided you can come work for me.”
No way, he’s offering me a job. Cade Kingston, my brother’s best friend, the man I’ve had a crush on for, like, forever, the asshole who turned down my advances and left me feeling humiliated. The grumptwat who walked away and never bothered to keep in touch with me—until I ran into him a few weeks ago. The world’s most sought-after sportsman who has a reputation for being a man-whore. That Cade Kingston is offering me a role on his team?And why? Because he wants to see me fail and laugh at me again, no doubt. Like it wasn’t enough for him to snub me all those years ago? Apparently, he wants to destroy what little is left of my confidence, eh?
Of course, it’d mean I’d finally get a chance to see him every day; and how agonizing would that be? To watch him from up-close as he fucks his way through the beds of every supermodel and actress he meets. Because those are the only kinds of women he dates.No, I haven’t been keeping track of him. Not at all. I only monitor his social media feeds because it’s part of my job as a communications expert. What? Don’t you believe me?I hunch my shoulders.Yeah, neither do I.
Nah, if I accept this job, I’m setting myself up for failure. Or worse, I’ll end up giving my heart to someone who’ll never reciprocate how I feel about him. It’s best to stay as far away from him as possible. It’s the only way I’m going to hold on to what dignity I have left.
I fold my arms across my chest, mirroring Cade’s earlier body language. "And if I refuse?"
Cade
She’s here. Of course, she’s here.
Zara’s her boss, and the two of them share a unique relationship where my sister clearly considers herself a mentor to Abby.
Abigail Warren. My best friend Knight’s little sister, who he explicitly warned me off. Not that she’s my typ. At all.
I prefer my women to keep their mouths shut and spread their legs wide, on my command. That way, they’re merely need-fulfilling orifices and not much else. There’s no danger of developing any feelings for them. No messy relationship drama. I can focus on my mission of becoming the greatest batsman in the world of cricket. Of banking those sponsorship dollars and watching my wealth and power grow.
Whoever said money has nothing to do with influence has, clearly, not experienced firsthand just what money can get you. Wine and women, with sex and rock’n’roll thrown in for good measure. Not to mention, the ability to live life on my own terms. To get what I want, when I want it. Be it my choice of pussy, or the choice of buying what and who I want off the sports-field.
No living life afraid of being successful; afraid of standing out too much and being knocked down; afraid of spending my hard-earned money because it might attract too much attention from the community. No, I left those fears to my parents. My goal from when I was very young was very simple. To be everything they’re not. To be fearless. To go after what I want.
A fierce focus, combined with the determination to succeed, was topped off with a natural ability to play cricket. It had me getting a sports scholarship to the American International School in London, and later, to Oxford. It meant I left home when I was eleven. It also meant I wasn’t there as much as I wanted to be for my sister Zara. Which is why I’m determined to be there for her now as she embarks on this new role as a mature and responsible mother.
What I didn’t reckon with was that one tiny, curvy woman would also be on the scene. A gorgeous beauty, no longer the skinny little girl who followed Knight, and by extension, me, everywhere when we went home for school holidays. More often than not, I’d go along with him because I didn’t want to go see my parents. My folks were never unkind to me. But they also weren’t the demonstrative, affectionate type. Not like Knight’s parents, who always welcomed me with open arms. Their house was more of a home to me than my own. Knight was the brother I never had. And Abby… She was the little sister—no…
She never felt like my sister. The relationship between us has always been fraught with…a kind of uncomfortable frisson I’ve never been able to ignore. Probably because she was always an annoying add-on to the games Knight and I played as young boys—football and cricket and tennis and occasionally, holing up in his treehouse, where we pretended to be pilots. Activities she was always on the fringes of. She’s always been the annoying, little sprite who tagged behind us. I didn’t expect her to grow up to be so…alive, so potent, so gorgeous… So...everything. Now, I look into her big green eyes and purse my lips.
"Don’t recall giving you a choice," I drawl.
Her gaze widens. "Choice? You’re giving me a choice?"
"I’m not," I clarify.
