I need her to play wife. She needs me to play daddy.
Olivia is torture in a Gucci dress. Spoiled and sassy.
Everything I hate, and everything I love.
She"s also my late best friend"s sister and guardian to his daughter.
She"s going to help me clean up my image.
I"m going to help her keep parental rights.
But I"m no daddy. I"m the devil in a black suit. Demanding everything from everyone.
Claiming her innocence has been my deepest desire for years.
Even if it means my destruction.
Too late to stop. Too gone to care.
I"ll pay the price. Anything. Anyone. For her.
All Kira Blakely novels include alphas who know what they want and how to treat a lady. This is a full-length, standalone, steamy romance novel. No cheating, no cliffhanger and a guaranteed happily ever after.Books by Author:Kira Blakely Books
The world had been, and always would be, my bitch.
Heads turned as I strode through the Granite Room " the most exclusive restaurant in Manhattan " unescorted, my suit so stark, my image so fucking impressive that the women shifted in their seats. The men balled up their fists.
Chandeliers overhead, thousand-dollar champagne bottles on tables decked with decorative centerpieces of fuck-knew-what type of flower, and meal portions styled and small.
This was my life.
High society. Parties. Business. Any woman I could ever want.
I should"ve been happy. I should"ve be over the moon. But a black cloud hovered over my head, and it"d been there for the past two months. No amount of booze or fucking would take it away.
A woman rose from the crowd of tables in the restaurant and waved. Redhead, curvy, and dressed to kill, makeup contouring her already high cheekbones.
I raised an eyebrow at her, and she lowered herself again, a slow blush creeping across her face. The heads watched on, all the eyes in the world, all the phones ready to record whatever Beckett Price got up to at lunch today.
Hate to disappoint.
My powerful strides carried me across the room and to the embossed Victorian chair. I tugged it back, took my seat at the table, and tapped my fingers on it. "Make it quick," I said. "I"ve got business to attend to."
"And hello to you, too, Beckett," Kayla replied and dumped her massive tote bag on the expensive tablecloth.
A leopard-skin purse. Classy.
I didn"t let up on the finger-tapping. This shit ate into working hours, and I needed every one I could get. Work hard, play hard. That was my motto, and this past month had been no different"I had three new potential investments to make, and private investments had been slow.
Price Capital was a monster in the game, but Cooper Investments had fast become a leading name. My competition were sharks. They"d already sniped one potential business investment from me"an IT company developing apps for kids that was set to go live with its IPO next week. If I wasn"t careful, they"d take the next three and screw my good reputation in the game.
Work was good. It helped take my mind off what"d happened. Same with partying.
"Should we order lunch first"" Kayla asked, at last, after drawing her iPad from her purse.
I didn"t answer, simply stared at her.
"Right, right," she replied and shrugged. "Look, we need to talk seriously about the future, Beckett."
"Beck," I snapped. I hated the long form. I"d been named after my great-grandfather. Family meant fuckall to me, not in the blood relative sense. My only real family had passed two months ago.
"Beck." Kayla nodded and gulped.
"The future," I said.
A waiter appeared with a glass of my regular"forty-year-old Bunnahabhain whisky, neat"and placed it in front of me. I lifted it and took two gulps. This whisky was to be savored, not glugged back, but I didn"t have time to waste on subtle flavors this afternoon.
Kayla pursed her lips. "This is exactly what I"m talking about, Beck. You can"t go on like this."
"Last I checked, you were my publicist, not my therapist," I replied and took another swig of whisky.
"That"s exactly why we"re having this meeting. I am your publicist, and I am telling you that if you don"t clean up your act, you"re going to lose friends fast."
"No problem. I don"t have any friends."
Kayla rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean. Business. You"ll lose business. Cooper Investments presents a very, uh, how do I put this""
"The word "cuntish" is surely involved."
"No." Kayla tapped on the screen of her tablet. "They present a very clean front. And they"re definitely interested in all the same businesses you are."
"I"m aware." Irritation grated at me. My glass was empty and the smooth burn, the coolness of every inhale, hadn"t soothed it. "What"s your point""
"Simple. If you don"t clean up, you lose investment opportunities. None of your private investors will trust you with their money if you lose these three," Kayla said and opened up a Twitter account. "And you"re going to lose these three companies if you keep behaving like this." She spun the device and nudged it toward me with her fingertips.
My image was on the screen, hashtagged, of course"a blonde on my left, a brunette on my right, both with their tits straining against silk or thin cotton. I looked smart as hell, albeit disheveled, and I had the hangover to prove it.
Dark eyes stared back at me from the picture"the devil"s gaze, it"d been called. So brown it was almost black.
I hadn"t fucked either of those vacuous girls, but it looked like I"d taken them both home by the way their stares were fixed on my face, adoration shining past the sheen of sweat, the dilated pupils.
"I party hard. Everyone parties hard," I replied, and it sounded too much like an excuse.