by Nana Malone
Royal Playboy
Nana Malone
Contents
Prologue
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
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
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About Nana Malone
Prologue
Xander
Present Day
* * *
Glass.
Blood.
Some other wet, sticky substance I couldn't identify. But they were all part of my visual field now. As was the smoke.
A roaring in my head was the only sound I was aware of in the chaos. Ignoring the pain in my neck, I reached for my reason for living. "Imani." My voice was more of a growl than anything else, and I could barely get the words out. Trying again, I croaked out, "Imani."
I reached for her, but instead of reaching for me and grasping my hand, her palm was lifeless and cool to the touch. I forced myself to turn a little more, swallowing the pain. "Imani, wake up. Love. Jesus Christ! Oh my God! Please. Please. Please. Wake up. Please, God.”
I yanked on my seat belt. Why couldn't I move?
I mentally cataloged the aches and pains, assessing my injuries. Everything hurt. I was sore in places I didn't even know I could be sore in. But my concern was not for myself; it was for Imani, my fucking wife. And Jesus, the baby.
Someone had done this to her. She wasn't moving. "Sweetheart. Please, God. Please, wake up. Wake up."
And then the deafening silence around us began to dissipate. Slowly. One sound, then another. I heard the shouts. The screams. The sirens. I heard myself. My voice getting traction now. "Wake up, Imani!"
I squeezed her palm, but she didn't squeeze back. My fingers turned to find her wrist, pressing to locate her pulse. I did the one thing I hadn't done in a very, very long time.
I prayed.
I squeezed my eyes shut and I spoke to God. Buddha. Anyone I thought might listen. Take me. Take me! Not her. She does not deserve to die.
If anyone deserved to die, it was me. I was an arrogant, selfish prick. I didn't deserve her, nor did I deserve to live. God, please take me.
I felt the faint thud, thud at my fingertips, and I was thankful. But something didn't feel right. Her pulse should be stronger than that, shouldn't it?
There was someone at my door. Security maybe? They’d been in the follow car. I shook my head, directing him to the other side. "No, her side. She's unconscious. Help her."
But they weren't listening. They were opening my door, and hands were reaching in.
I shook my head. "No, help her."
Still, they didn't listen, and a hand reached for me. I tried to fight them, but I couldn't fucking move.
The next thing I knew, somebody was cutting off my seatbelt and they were pulling at me. I tried to fight them off, but I was sluggish, uncoordinated. Fuck, what was wrong?
Then I saw people at her door, opening it, pulling her to safety at last.
They were helping her. Oh, thank God. Please, please. She was all I had. She and the baby were the only things grounding me. She couldn’t die. I wouldn’t let her die.
Then they were putting me on something hard, unmoving. A stretcher? I was fine. Everything hurt, but I was fine. They needed to help her. I tried to roll over, but someone put his hand over my shoulder. "Oi, mate. Lie still. We're trying to save you."
I shook my head, trying to remove the mask he was placing on my face. "No. Don't save me. Save her."
His face was stern as he frowned, but his voice was gentle. "We are saving her. You'd be no good to her dead. So lie still and let me get the oxygen on you.”
My gaze swung to her. "Please. She's all I have."
She was the love of my life, and I hadn't taken care of her.
I had done this. My hubris was the reason she was here. From the moment I’d met her, I'd put her on this collision course. This was my fault. If she died, I was one hundred percent responsible. And I was never, ever going to forgive myself.
Xander
One week.
One solid week, I’d sat in this chair.
A solid week I’d spent holding my wife's hand, insisting that if they were going to treat me in any way, they had to treat me right next to her. I wasn't willing to be away from her.
It was one of those times I'd pulled every string I could. Because there was no way in hell I would leave her.
I'd emerged from the accident surprisingly well.
Despite a broken left wrist and a fractured collarbone, I was mostly fine.
Imani had several broken ribs and some internal injuries, including a ruptured spleen. Our daughter, surprisingly, was unscathed. Her heartbeat was still strong, and she was fighting.
Imani’s last surgery had been that morning and the doctors said she should wake up any moment, but still, she wasn't up. Her dark eyes weren't rolling at me. I hadn’t seen her smile in three days. Three days since I'd made a decision that would forever impact us. I had messed up.
You can fix it.
And I was going to fix it.
There was a knock at her door, and I called out, "Come in."
"Mate, it's good to see you up and about."
I nodded at my brother. "Hey, Lex."
"How is she today?"
I shook my head. "More of the same, I guess."
"What did the doctors say?"
"Just that she should be awake. But she's not."
Wake up my love. I’m a selfish bastard, and I need you. I kept talking to her because I heard somewhere that you're supposed to talk to people in a coma. So I continued to verbally walk her through our everyday lives. And it wasn’t full of roses, but it was full of love. I talked so our daughter could hear my voice and know I was waiting for her, that I wanted her to keep fighting.
I talked to keep myself from going crazy.
Lex deposited the flowers he’d brought for her into a vase, simultaneously scooping out the wilted ones from a couple of days ago and tossing them in the garbage. "Look, you know how strong she is. She's going to get better. You’ve got to believe that."
"Oh, I believe it. In the meantime, I need to do something."
My brother narrowed his gaze at me. "Xan, I know that look. You and I both know that look does not lead to happiness."
"What look?"
"You know, the look of hatred and revenge. We've been down this path before."
"Yeah, and it worked. He got what was coming to him."
"Yeah, but at what cost, Xan? You? You can't do that shit anymore. A week ago, you were ready to sign on to be Mom's successor. This isn't you."
"It's absolutely me. What? Just because I fell in love, you think I've been tamed? Nope. I'm still a prick. A prick who, when fucked with, will fight to protect his own."
Lex leaned against the wall. "I hear you. Do you think I don't want to protect her? She's my family too, Xan."
I worked my jaw. I wanted to lash out at him and tell him that Imani wasn't his family, she was mine. Mine to protect. But I knew what he meant. And it was true. My wife was his family, and his wife was mine. We'd all walked through the fire together.
We'd survived the skeletons of our past and those that threatened our futures. We’d been through a lot together,
the four of us, so she was his family. But she was still my responsibility. "Lex, you don't want any of this. Whatever I do, it's going to be ugly, and you need to protect Abbie from it. I'm planning on making this right."
He shook his head. "Xander, you need to listen to me. I know this hurts. I know that you want revenge on the person who hurt her. I want that too, but revenge is not justice. What you're thinking… I can see it on your face. We've already been down this path. It turns you into someone you're not."
"And who said that I'm not that person?"
Fury simmered just under my skin. A long time ago, I had one hundred percent been this person.
But then you found her. And she made you a better person.
She did make me better. But now she was lying in a fucking hospital bed and wouldn't goddamn wake up no matter what I said. No matter how much I prayed. Begged. Pleaded. She wouldn't fucking wake up because someone had done this to her. So as far as I was concerned, that someone was going to pay with their life. I met my brother's silvery slate-colored gaze, so like my own, And his eyes were narrowed in concern. "Lex, I need to do this. If this had happened to Abbie, you'd do the same thing."
I waited for him to try and deny it, to try and tell me that he wouldn't go down this path, but I knew my brother. When the chips were down, he would do whatever it took to protect his family, just like I would.
I took Imani’s hand and pressed it in mine. She'd always had the worst circulation. Her fingertips were cold as I leaned forward and kissed her knuckles. "It's okay, angel. You rest. You wake up when you're ready. No matter what, I'll be here. In the meantime, while you get some rest, I’m going to deal with the people that did this to us. No one is ever going to hurt you again."
That sounds like a familiar promise.
Four years ago when I met her, I was a completely different person. One who believed in doing whatever I had to do to get the job done. And now I had to channel that person. But I’d had so much love in the last four years, gone through so many changes, I wasn't sure if I could.
Well, you’d better figure out a way, because if you don't, they're going to get away with this.
Lex cleared his throat. "Do you want me to sit with her for a while?"
I shook my head. "No, you go home to Abbie. I'm just going to sit here and talk to her a little longer.
He nodded and gave me a faint smile. "Are you going to tell her the story of how you met again?"
"You know what? It's not a bad idea. Maybe that's what she needs to hear to wake up. In the meantime, can you make some calls for me?"
He sighed and nodded. "It's already done, Xander."
I met his gaze and lifted a brow. "So, all that talk about not getting revenge was bullshit?"
He shrugged. "Well, I was hoping to talk you out of it, but I know you too well. And if it was me, I’d want the same thing. I'll let you know what I hear. In the meantime, you tell Imani the story of how you met. Let's guarantee to wake her up so she can slap you."
I chuckled softly. "Yeah, you probably have a point there."
At least I hoped he did. I would do absolutely anything to get back the woman I loved.
Chapter One
Xander
Four Years Ago…
Pussy came easy. But then, for me, most things came easy.
As I slid a glance over the lithe, naked back of the blonde in front of me and locked my teeth, I wished some things came easier than others. It didn't matter how much my balls ached or how much sweat dripped off my brow, there’d be no relief for me, no matter how many times I had her.
As she moaned, writhed, and shouted things that were dirty enough to make any porn star blush, I fought to stay focused. She was a means to an end. Unfortunately for me, that end wasn’t pleasure. It was more like revenge. She had information I needed. And she, like half the women in London, was susceptible to the Chase charm.
She screamed through her orgasm, and I just wanted it to be over. A means to an end. She was Alistair’s wife. Screwing her was one more domino on my way to taking down the man I hated.
My brain did me the favor of replaying the night over and over and over again. Every decision I’d made. Every step that had led me there. How well she’d sucked my cock on the way to Notting Hill. The slide of her tongue over the length of me as I spun my Huayra over the rain-slicked streets of London. The feel of her pussy milking my cock. Her brazen offer for me to have her any way I wanted.
But I had zero desire to come. And no amount of fucking this nearly nameless, faceless blonde would solve that. After it was over, I’d barely remember her. Hell, I could barely remember her name as it was. Georgina? Jemima? Julia? Something J-sounding. Bugger, I really did have to get better with names. But I would remember whose wife she was.
I pulled away from her, and she made a half-hearted, feeble attempt to reach for me. Who was she kidding? That was orgasm number four for her. She’d be out cold in seconds.
I slid the satin sheet over her naked form and sat on the edge of the bed. My dick twitched as if to remind me of how I got into this mess in the first place. I scrubbed a hand down my face. I sat there for several minutes until her deep, even breathing alerted me to her slumber. Right. Time to go to work. I tugged on my boxer briefs and slipped into the living room where she’d dropped her bag.
I made sure I kept an eye on the bedroom door as I booted up her laptop. Thanks to one tequila too many and my very skilled hands working their magic under her panties, she’d told me everything I needed to know to take a decent stab at her password. I got it on the third try. Cat’s name. I didn't bother to roll my eyes.
When I was done copying all the files to my external hard drive, I shut down her computer and slid it back into her bag before silently stalking back into the bedroom. She was still knocked out, but the sheet had shifted slightly, exposing her bare arse. Fuck. Maybe I should have taken her up on her offer to fuck her however I wanted.
I scowled at my straining erection. My cock begged me to go back to bed. To give it another go in the hopes that this time would be different. That she would be different. But I knew better. What was the definition of insanity again? No point in going back to it, mate, it won’t do any good.
There was only one way to relieve the gnawing, clawing hunger. But knowing the solution didn’t mean I wanted to go through with it. Get in the shower. Release the tension. Then call the cleaning crew to deal with the unwanted guest. Most importantly, I had to ignore that niggling thought at the back of my skull. That tiny voice telling me the kind of man I was. Telling me that inside, I was beyond buggered. Truly fucked up and there’d be no respite for me. This was my personal hell.
I didn't bother to tiptoe into the spacious bathroom because I knew she wouldn’t wake up anytime soon. I avoided the mirror and stepped into the shower, blasting on the hot water and letting the piercing pellets from multiple sprays scorch my skin. In a long-practiced move, I reached for the shower gel, using just enough to coat my hands, then I stroked myself.
A harsh groan tore from my throat on contact. So, bleeding good. I focused on the memories of the woman in my bed. The gentle, yet suggestive smile as she’d brushed up against me. That was always my favorite part. The possibility of something great.
Of course, it was never great. At that point, I doubted I’d know an epic shag if it came up and bit me on the arse. But I kept repeating the same patterns over and over again. What was the definition of insanity again?
It didn’t help that, thanks to the Chase name, the royal connections, and my face, woman after woman happily climbed into my bed.
But the end result was always the same. I was dead inside. My balls ached as I stroked myself, my palm smoothing over the flared tip. I hissed in a pleasurable pain at the friction. So… on edge… almost… Just needed…
My release hit me with the force of a tank, and I shook violently as stream after stream of come shot out of me. I clamped my jaw tight, unwilling to cry out with my release.
As soon as it was over, I did what I always did and turned the water as cold as I could stand it. Then I let my body slide down to the tiled bench seat as the self-loathing seeped into my pores.
There had to be a better way. I would only survive so much more before I became irrevocably broken. Maybe it was already too late for that.
Xander
My heart thundered with each step, and I fought to control my labored breathing. The more I pushed, the more everything burned. My lungs, my chest, the muscles in my thighs, my overly taut calf muscles. In contrast next to me, my brother seemed completely unbothered as we pushed the pace of our run.
With the spirit of competition riding me, but more the need to outrun my demons, I pushed harder, forcing my legs to move faster. Next to me, Lex matched my pace but his breathing hitched, and I smirked. The way I saw it, we both had some demons to outrun.
Despite my hoodie, the chill of the morning settled into my bones. Or maybe that was still the slithering stench of self-loathing. I’d left the J-blonde in my bed. If she was still there, the cleaning crew would arrive soon enough to help her along her way. And even if she tried to wait for me, she’d soon realize I wasn’t coming back. Not anytime soon anyway. I didn’t live there.
That flat was strictly for sex and for women I had no intention of ever seeing again. There was no way I was bringing anybody to where I actually lived. I didn’t need this feeling permeating into my real life. It’s already here. Separation of fucking and life was important to me, and never the twain shall meet.
