by Wolf, Alex
Arrogant Playboy
Alex Wolf
Sloane Howell
Contents
1. Donavan
2. Paisley
3. Donavan
4. Paisley
5. Donavan
6. Paisley
7. Donavan
8. Paisley
9. Donavan
10. Paisley
11. Donavan
12. Paisley
13. Paisley
14. Donavan
15. Paisley
16. Donavan
17. Paisley
18. Donavan
19. Paisley
20. Donavan
21. Paisley
22. Donavan
23. Paisley
24. Donavan
25. Paisley
26. Paisley
27. Donavan
28. Paisley
29. Donavan
30. Donavan
31. Paisley
32. Paisley
33. Donavan
34. Paisley
35. Donavan
36. Paisley
Epilogue
Also by Sloane Howell
Also by Alex Wolf
About Alex Wolf
Arrogant Playboy Copyright © 2020 Alex Wolf and Sloane Howell
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.
This book may not be resold or given away to other people. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
Publisher © Alex Wolf & Sloane Howell March 20th, 2020
Cover Design: Alex Wolf
Editor: Spellbound
Formatting: Alex Wolf
Donavan
Respect makes my dick hard.
There’s nothing on this earth better than destroying an opponent in a courtroom, and I’m the king of doing just that. Now, it’s time to reap my rewards.
I’m in Manhattan and I miss it here.
The walk down Broadway in the spring sends memories flooding in. So much has changed and yet it hasn’t. Busy streets. Busy people. I throw on my Beats and it’s like I’m transported to the past as Blitzkrieg Bop by the Ramones filters into my ears.
It’s been seven years since I graduated from Columbia Law School, but it feels like I walked across the stage yesterday.
The bar I’m looking for, The Heights, comes into view as I stride up the sidewalk. The alumni meeting last night was the same as always, a room full of lawyers and someone from administration asking for money. I cut the check because that’s what you do.
But the moment right now is what I’ve been looking forward to. Seeing the guys. Most of them work for Cooper and Associates here in the city. The firm in Chicago I run with my brothers was just named the number one criminal defense practice in the country. It’s time to gloat. That being said, my brothers may hate Cooper’s guts, and I do as well, but I was in the trenches with these guys for three hard years at Columbia. I’ll never disown them, even if Cooper can eat a dick sandwich on rye. They’re great friends.
I take off my headphones, shove them in my bag, and walk inside. It’s like old times already. My best friend, who I don’t see nearly enough, Penn Hargrove, greets me with a beer.
“About time, Collins, fuck.”
“I know, bitch. I walked. It was nostalgic.”
“Find any ass on the way in?” says Mason as he leans out.
I jolt, thinking only Penn was here right now. “Jesus Christ.”
He laughs and I notice Jacob hiding with him on the other side of Penn.
I grin. “Any ass? Just your mom’s. It’s gotten bigger but give me a few more of these.” I hold up the beer Penn just handed me.
He shakes his head. “Still a dick.”
“Some things never change.” I walk over and grip both of them by their necks. “Missed you fuckers.”
“Yeah, yeah,” says Jacob.
I glance down to the bar top between them. There’s a legal magazine and it says, “The Hunter Group – Voted Number One for Criminal Law.”
I pick it up.
“What, you didn’t see yet?” says Penn.
I shake my head, thumbing through the pages.
Penn tries to snatch it from me, but I turn away and box him out.
“Don’t read it right now. We’re trying to have a good time.”
What the hell?
Why would I not read it? They’re talking about my department. Criminal and family law belong to me and I’m the goddamn king. We’ve won it three years in a row, since I made partner and took over. Of course, this year it says The Hunter Group because my idiot brother merged us with a firm out of Dallas.
I get to the article and immediately realize why Penn didn’t want me to read it yet. There’s a giant picture of Weston Hunter. My fingers grip the magazine a little tighter as my eyes scan the pages.
“Don’t do it to yourself, bro.”
I can’t stop. The more I read, the more my collar tightens around my neck. There’s not one mention of the Chicago office in it.
Not. One.
All he’s talking about is his firm in Dallas, his brother, and all the work they’re doing. It has to be a mistake. This cocksucker wasn’t even on a radar for any awards until he inherited my departments.
Goddamn it. This is supposed to be my moment to brag on my people. It’s why I work so hard, so I can come back to New York and talk shit to my buddies. I love my friends to death, but it’s a war out here and to the victor go the spoils.
I keep waiting for the hammer to drop, for Weston to finally tell the interviewer the reason why The Hunter Group is suddenly the best criminal law firm in the country.
It doesn’t happen.
I look up, and Penn’s eyes are wide. Mason and Jacob both have smirks on their faces.
My jaw flexes. “He didn’t mention Chicago once. He rode in, took the title on a merger, and doesn’t even have the courtesy to give my department one goddamn sentence?”
“Chiseled your name right off the wall too,” says Mason.
Penn glares at him.
I take a couple deep breaths. No, fuck it. I came here to have a good time. Penn told me not to read it. I’m not giving Weston Hunter’s bitch ass the satisfaction of ruining my weekend.
“What’s your name on, Mase?” I laugh, but it still feels like bugs are crawling all over my skin. “Cooper even give you a desk yet, or do you just stay under his all day?”
Mason grins and shrugs. “First of all, I’d stay on my knees in perpetuity for the checks he writes. And I don’t give a fuck about my name on the wall. The money works for me.”
Sure. He’s so full of shit.
Who wouldn’t want their name on the wall? That’s respect. Fuck a paycheck; anyone can make money. Your name on the wall is like being a made man in the field of law. People look at you differently. Treat you differently. You’re a man with authority. Being a name partner is the goal of practically every attorney on the planet.
How the hell did my life get reduced to this in the last year? All that shit my dad preached about working hard, going into the world and taking everything you get, and Decker sold us all out.
“Oh shit,” Penn mumbles.
“What?” I turn the direction he’s lo
oking and… fuck my ass. This day can’t get any worse.
Paisley Williams.
The universe is shaming me. What the hell did I do to deserve this karma?
I haven’t seen her in seven years.
Not since it went down.
She never comes to this alumni stuff. Christ, she looks even hotter than she was in law school.
She walks up with a smug grin, until she sees me, then her face pales. The next second it heats up with a light shade of pink. Any other man would think she was blushing, but she’s not.
She’s seething at the sight of me.
I have that effect on women sometimes, her more than most.
Usually, it’s because I’ve kicked their ass out of bed before the sun comes up. With Paisley, it’s a little more than that. We have a past, and it’s not pretty.
“Number two,” she says, with a little nod to me, then walks by and gives the other guys hugs.
My hackles are up, but I can’t let her get the best of me. She wins if I give in. “Nice to see you, Pais. Still living in the past, I see?” I spin around, and she has that look; like she’s ready for verbal warfare. If we were a movie, her face would be painted blue and she’d be giving the William Wallace speech.
She eyes the magazine and her smirk grows.
Fuck. She’s read it.
She picks it up and pretends to flip through the pages. Mason and Jacob look like they’re about to die of laughter. Penn has this look on his face that says please don’t flip the fuck out, we’re trying to have fun here.
I can deal with Mason and Jacob. It’s not personal with them. With Paisley, it is.
“Has to hurt,” says Paisley. She tsks me. “The Hunter Group.” She shakes her head and smirks. “This Weston Hunter is pretty hot for the number one criminal attorney in the country. Much better looking than the last guy.”
Penn gives me a side eye.
I finally just turn and walk away.
Fuck this.
I damn near plow straight through some guy who steps in my way. It knocks him over onto a table and his beer explodes everywhere.
“Hey!”
I keep walking.
No turning around. No apology.
I want on a plane, now.
When I step out onto the street, the sunlight socks me in the face. I pull out my phone. My plane doesn’t leave LaGuardia for another eight hours.
Goddamn it.
I scan the streets, looking for a taxi. Part of me doesn’t even want to stop off at the hotel and grab my shit. I just want away from these skyscrapers, and far away from that woman inside the bar.
As I wait for a cab, Penn walks up from behind.
“You’re gonna bail without saying bye?”
I wheel around on him. “How could you invite her? What would go through your head that would make you think I wanted to see her?”
He holds up his hands in surrender. “I didn’t know she was coming. Okay? I’m sure Mase or Jake did it, and honestly, I don’t think they were being malicious. They work with her.” He takes a step closer and lowers his voice, his eyes pleading. “And we all used to be close, remember? They don’t know everything that went down.”
I shake my head. “Still. Fuck.” I look up at the sky and try to take a few deep breaths. I’m sure he’s being honest.
Penn is a great guy. The best, really. And he doesn’t sugarcoat anything.
But goddamn, I knew I’d see her again someday, even though I hoped I wouldn’t. I didn’t think it would still hurt like that when I looked at her, knowing what I did to her. Everything comes back to the surface and I just need to get the hell out of here.
“Why are you torturing yourself, man? It’s not good for you. You always do this. You’re so fucking high strung.”
“I know, it was just… everything all at once back there.” I need to change the subject or I’m going to take this all out on a flight attendant later and end up kicked off the plane. I’m off my game and I need to get it back. “What’s going on with you? It’s been a minute. I was looking forward to catching up.”
He sighs. “Shit’s good, man. I’m just kinda doing whatever right now. You know I left Cooper a month ago, right?”
“Yeah, we talked about it on the phone, right after. So, you’re not doing anything? Practicing?”
“I don’t really know if law is for me. Have the trust from my family, and a shitload of money socked away from working at Cooper. I’m still pretty young. Just figuring some stuff out.”
I raise an eyebrow at him.
“Oh, I’m definitely chasing pussy. It’s the beautiful thing about Manhattan, the surplus of ass.”
An old lady gives us a dirty look when she hears Penn say that, and I laugh.
“So what? You’re staying at your apartment? Upper East Side?”
He shakes his head. “No, I sold it. Got a price I couldn’t pass up. Made off nice on that too.”
“So, you’re homeless?”
He laughs again and holds his arms out at the buildings around us. “Richest homeless guy in New York City.”
“Well, fuck, come to Chicago for a while, if you don’t have anywhere to be. Midwest pussy is sweeter and doesn’t talk back as much.”
Another dirty look from the old lady.
Penn laughs, then looks around and shrugs. “Hell. Why not? Little change of scenery might be good. And we can catch up like old times.”
“Let’s get a cab.” I hold out my hand. “I have plenty of time to hang out, now that Decker sold the firm. This will be awesome, and I’m telling you. Chicago girls fuck way better.”
Another dirty look.
A cab rolls up to the curb and we hop in.
I roll down the window and glance to the old lady. “Have a nice day, ma’am.”
She shoots us a middle finger.
God, I do miss New York.
Paisley
It’s been exactly one week since I saw Donavan Collins in Manhattan and it hasn’t made what I’m about to do any easier. I wanted to break a beer bottle and stick it in his neck, but that would’ve been uncivilized. I imagine they’d revoke my license to practice law for something like that, so I had to resort to verbal emasculation. Not my favorite thing to do, but if anyone deserves it, it’s him.
Despite the seven years, and the bullshit he put me through, my body still wanted to betray me, and it’s eaten at me all week. How does he do that to me just by existing? Standing there in his Hugo Boss suit and perfectly slicked-back hair, looking even better than before. How was that even possible? I’d secretly prayed, the few times I’d thought about him, that when I saw him again, he’d be fat and balding. Nope, the years have been excellent to him.
Fuck men.
And now, it’s really going to hit the fan.
Standing outside The Hunter Group building, I take a deep breath, compose myself, and walk inside.
Maybe he won’t be here today.
You will never get that lucky.
I don’t even know why I wanted to hurt him so bad when I saw him. When he’s not around, and I think about him, I have empathy. It’s almost to the point where I think we could get along. Then, I saw him. His smug face, his sneer, his disdain for everyone and everything—I just turned into a different person. It’s like he burrowed right under my skin and I wanted to claw myself to death to get him out.
How the hell is he even hotter? It’s the stubble, has to be. Baby face—gone. Where the hell did that smoldering stare come from? At college his face was so boyish and cute, now it’s rugged and fierce.
He’s not why you’re here. Get your head out of your ass.
I make my way to a security station when I first walk in and give them my name and tell them why I’m here, nothing out of the ordinary. I look around while they find me a badge.
The building is nice. Really nice.
It’s not Cooper and Associates in Manhattan, but damn, I could get used to it. I’ll have to, for a while anyway.
>
The security people point me to an elevator, and I make my way up to the correct floor. When I step out, it’s not how I envisioned the place at all. I expected classic, sophisticated, old school. What lies in front of me is a modern office. Big glass walls, sharp lines, and a lot less mahogany than in New York.
I think I like it. It feels new and shiny, hip.
A woman named Quinn greets me as I step off the elevator.
“You must be Paisley Williams. Come with me.”
Quinn’s beautiful. She has auburn hair and green eyes. We walk past her desk and she has me take a seat outside Decker Collins’ office.
“Can I get you anything? Water, tea, soda?”
“No, I’m fine. Thank you.” I wave her off and try to be as nice and casual as I can.
Reading people is what I do, and I’m surprised Quinn’s a secretary and not at least a paralegal. She’s relatively young, but she looks like she has her shit together. Her engagement ring is gorgeous. It’s an emerald solitaire you could spot from across the room.
I start to think her fiancé must have money, when I see a picture of her and a man who looks like a bulked-up version of Donavan in a picture. Holy hell, it looks just like Donavan if he did two cycles of steroids and power lifted for ten years.
So, she got herself engaged to a Collins brother. Good for her. At least, maybe it is. I wouldn’t know. I’ve only met one Collins brother and he’s the biggest asshole I’ve ever encountered.
Speaking of that, I forget I’m supposed to be avoiding him right now.
“Should only be another minute or two,” says Quinn. “He’s finishing up a quick meeting. It wasn’t on the books.”
