by Gabi Moore
Mind Games - A Bad Boy Romance With A Twist
Mind Games, Book 2
Gabi Moore
Contents
About the Author
Mind Games
Blurb
1. Prologue
2. Chapter 1
3. Chapter 2
4. Chapter 3
5. Chapter 4
6. Chapter 5
7. Chapter 6
8. Chapter 7
9. Chapter 8
10. Chapter 9
11. Chapter 10
12. Chapter 11
13. Chapter 12
14. Chapter 13
15. Chapter 14
16. Chapter 15
Against All Odds
Come Undone
All Or Nothing
Manipulator of Elements (Y/A Urban Fantasy)
Steamy Short Stories
MIND GAMES TRILOGY
Book 1 - Mindfuck
Book 2 - Mind Games
Book 3 - Mindgasm
BAD BOYS AFTER DARK - The Complete Boxed Set
Gabi’s Naughty Newsletter
Copyright
Copyright © 2017 by Gabi Moore. All rights reserved.
In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved. Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.
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About the Author
Hey there! I’m Gabi Moore and I’m on a mission to love like I’ve never been hurt, dance like nobody’s watching, and write sex scenes like my mother didn’t raise me right.
I write about some of the naughty things I’ve done, and some of the naughty things I still wish I could do. Some days, I forget which is which.
I like coffee and men with accents. And lately, I’ve been trying to give up dirty puns …but it’s hard.
So hard.
For naughty surprises and a freebie, join my
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- Gabi Moore
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Mind Games
Blurb
DEAN CANE:
This is MY side of the story.
I know the media love to portray me as this rich, bad boy asshole, the son of one of the most notorious man in history and a ruthless businessman in his own right. But they don’t know a thing about me.
Do you ever wonder why people really chase wealth and power?
I never did.
Not until she turned up.
I had everything, or I thought I did. Before Nora and I started playing our twisted mind games, I thought I truly understood myself, and what I really wanted…
But I was more wrong than I knew, and now, for the first time in my life, I’m afraid. I have something of real value to lose. The love of my life is in danger, and I’m the one to blame. I would do anything in my power to protect her, but…
What if I’m just like my father after all?
NORA SMITH:
I don’t know when it stopped being a game and started being my life.
It all happened so fast.
One moment I was Mistress Morgan, a badass dominatrix in perfect control of her life, and the next I was on the run, sharing a bed with the son of a man who was powerful enough to destroy me completely.
Dean and I are getting closer. To each other and …to something else. Every night we push ourselves further. Harder. The games are becoming stranger and I just don’t know where it all ends…
I’m afraid.
Afraid that my past will catch up with me and take him away. Afraid that all those delicious places we’re exploring together will be shut to us forever and that all of this is just a dream. But there’s something even scarier than that – what if, by some miracle, we can actually pull this off?
What if I get exactly what I want?
Prologue
Get dressed. We have work to do.
Lipstick. Diamonds. Fishnets. Peroxide out the melanin in your hair till each strand glows yellow-white. You look good in pink.
I know you don’t see how any of this is important. I know that you don’t yet understand why I’m telling you the things I’m telling you.
But listen anyway.
Pay attention.
We all play many roles in this life, but you can choose each and every one of them, I promise. The time has come to be strong, to hold your head up high and to act with precision and dignity. It will be challenging, but don’t be afraid, I’ll show you how.
But first, you have to get dressed.
Piece by piece, you have to cover your nakedness, and protect your soft body from the elements, and from the corrosive gaze of others. I know you’re not sure about this, but do it anyway. Do it for me.
Do you see how much strength is hiding in those black stockings as you roll them slowly up your thighs? Can you appreciate this uniform, this special place, carved out for you in the world by this skirt, this necklace? Do you feel how you become real now, when you zip up here and buckle there?
Don’t think of any of it as a constraint. No, these garments liberate you – and they keep you safe. They tell the world who you are and exactly what you intend to do. We obey these rules so we can break others.
My story is about disguises.
Have you ever seen any of the truly great burlesque performers, and how they enthrall their audience?
I once watched a woman take ten minutes to teasingly remove a single glove, and the people looking on were so grateful when she finally dropped it to the floor that they erupted into astonished cheers. Everyone in that crowd had bare hands. There was nothing magical about her hands. In fact, there was nothing magical about her ‘stripping’ that hand. The magic was in the glove.
I know what I want you to wear.
You’ll enjoy wearing things that excite me. You’ll try on a new persona for me just as easily as you can slip your foot into a new pair of stilettos, or pull on a wig. You know how I love to see your achingly beautiful form held and pressed in place by a corset. You know what it does to me to see you in silk, or with your hair pulled up and twisted on your head. I love you painted. I love how underneath a tight leather dress, you change shape, and the smile on your lips becomes just a little more wicked. I adore what those straps do to your breasts. I could worship that choker on your neck for how badly it makes me want to tear it off.
You can do all this for me because you and I both understand that it’s just a game. A delicious, strange game that only you and I play together.
Oh, it’s not all just dress-up. The clothes make the man, you see. Or in your case, the woman.
Don’t be scared.
I’m the only one watching.
We’re the only ones in charge.
We can decide the rules for our game.
And we can decide exactly how we’d like to break them.
Chapter 1
Myth: Money buys you freedom. And a lot of money buys you a lot of freedom
Reality: Money restricts you. Money is the most dangerous trap, because you don’t realize it is one until it’s too late
“Don’t play coy,” he said. “Spare me. I know all about you and her. And I don’t give a shit.”
Over the years, my father had become such a public figure, and I was so used to seeing his face in the media, along with everyone else in the world, that it felt like that was the real him and this man before me was the act.
; He had worked tirelessly to create an image of the wealthy philanthropist. An entrepreneurial genius who donated piles to charity and had thoughtful and well-composed debates on national TV about the state of science education in our schools.
But not many people saw this side to him. Only a few knew about that nasty edge his voice could take, and the way he bit down hard on each word when he was angry but not willing to show it.
I spent my entire life arguing with my father. I knew to keep silent and give him no more ammunition than he probably already had. We sat in the semi-darkness in his downstairs office and I tried desperately to pull all the threads of the last few hours together into a picture that made sense.
“You just going to ignore me, kid?” he said. “If you’re still pining over that bitch, let me assure you, she’s no loss.”
It was classic Jeff Cane.
I had seen him pull this shit with countless rivals, always positioning himself as the top dog, dishing out condescending advice. Sure, he never called any of his business rivals ‘kid’, but I could overlook that. I knew him better than most people, and I knew that despite his efforts to act otherwise, he was on the back foot here.
He shifted his weight in the leather chair till it squeaked, threw back a glass of scotch and then stared at me hard with his deep-set, bleary eyes.
He wanted me to speak. Wanted me to state my position so he knew exactly what kind of bullshit to feed me. But I wasn’t going to give him that.
Less than twelve hours ago a murder was committed in a room just one floor above us, and I knew that my father hadn’t called me here to ask for comfort that his wife was dead. He called me here because he had something to pitch.
“I forgive you, OK? I don’t care why you did it, Dean. Frankly, I’m not one to talk. It’s fucking twisted, I’ll say that, but again, none of my business. You’re my son.”
I sighed and sat back in my seat, waiting for him to get to the point.
“Some slut in PVC isn’t going to come between a father and his son,” he said and shot me the same bleary eyes. I gave him a sour smile.
“Don’t call her a slut.”
He laughed.
“Dean, my boy, just tell me why. Tell me why, of all the whores in this town, you went after mine, huh?”
I felt the hair on the back of my neck rising.
“She’s not a whore, either. And she’s not yours.”
He shrugged and crossed his legs.
“You’re sentimental, I get it. You always were like that; I don’t blame you, nobody’s perfect. But whatever little crush you had on this woman, whatever little ploy you were up to, you can let it go now. We have to get our story straight for the police.”
“I’m sorry, our story?”
Now I got it. He didn’t want to sell me some story. He needed my help to sell it to others. I looked at him, barely able to contain my disgust. Nora had betrayed me. My little ‘crush’ on her had been a huge mistake, no doubt. But that didn’t mean I would be happy to go with whatever bullshit my father was clearly scheming out right now.
“Why don’t you just tell me exactly what you called me here for?” I said. He sighed, laced his fingers together and thought carefully.
“Look, kid, I’m not going to say anything about--”
“Don’t call me kid,” I hissed.
Silence.
“Like I said, I’m willing to forgive this fucking weirdness with you running behind my back and getting involved with things that don’t concern you. I called you here because despite all that, we need to stick together now. In case you haven’t noticed, my wife has been murdered, Dean. My name is being dragged through the mud out there.”
He got up and stood at the bay window, head tucked and shoulders slumped.
They had been married for only a few years, and I never really knew the woman. Part of me felt sad for him. But another part knew that this was all probably just a performance.
“The police are saying you’re a suspect,” I blurted. He shot me a hurt look.
“And you believe that? You think I did it?”
“I’m not sure what to believe.”
He looked like he was struggling to find words.
“Again, why don’t you tell me why you really called me here?” I said.
He came to sit down again, the hurt look now nowhere to be seen.
“I need an alibi, and you’re going to be it.”
I lifted an eyebrow at him.
“What’s more, we’re going to make that whore pay for what she did to this family…”
“I’m sorry, what?” My ears were ringing. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“Please, Dean, this is what I was afraid of. You’ve got some pathetic attachment to her, but it’s obvious isn’t it? Can you just think with the right head for a second?”
“Please tell me you are not suggesting what I think you’re suggesting.”
“It makes sense, Dean. She got crazy when I ended things with her. She was unstable. She went after Elizabeth because she was jealous, and she released those pictures to hurt me, to damage this family’s name…”
The ringing in my ears suddenly felt like a hurricane rushing past me. I was angrier with Nora than I could admit to anyone, and she clearly was no friend of his, whatever happened between them both. But murder? Was he fucking insane? There was just no way she could ever do something like that.
“You’re crazy. Nora would never--”
“Wouldn’t she? Are you so sure? Who else would have possession of pictures like that but her? Who else would have a motive but her?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. My blood turned cold in my veins. I couldn’t decide if he genuinely suspected Nora or if he was merely pointing out what an excellent candidate she would be to frame for the murder. His whole tone made me feel ill.
“I don’t know. But it couldn’t have been her.”
I had no idea what kind of a circus my life had turned into the last few hours, but one thing I felt sure of was that Nora was no murderer.
He frowned at me.
“I can’t believe I’m having to have this conversation with you, Dean…”
“You’re asking me to lie.”
“I’m asking you to defend what’s ours. My name is being attacked, here. Your name is being attacked, for Christ sake. It makes sense. You testify that I was with you the night of the murder. Why’d you have to go and get involved with the woman? It’s fucking weird. But that doesn’t matter now. She gets painted as a nut, it’s written off as a crime of passion, we recover and forget about all this mess.”
I was stunned that he hadn’t even mentioned Elizabeth yet.
“You have no proof of anything,” I said through clenched teeth.
He reached over and poured himself another drink, then took a thoughtful sip.
“The investigators searched her home a few hours ago. She was carrying printed copies of the images in her bag.”
I watched as the golden liquid swished in his glass. I looked at his fingers. Those stupid pictures that the entire world had seen by now just didn’t gel with the man sitting in front of me. My father was a man of action, capable of things that most people in this world couldn’t do with ten lifetimes. But I couldn’t decide if he was capable of …murder. I knew he had more than once pulled his strings to get colleagues off small charges here and there. I knew he had the clout and the financial resources to have at least a few lawmen in his pocket. But would he really go so far as to frame her?
“That doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t prove she had anything to do with Elizabeth…”
He was soon at his feet, and walked over to the desk to pull out a plain white envelope. I took it from him with shaking hands. Inside was a large, glossy photograph of Elizabeth, a look of sheer dread on her face. In the photo foreground was the back of a woman who was clearly Nora, her hands clasping Elizabeth’s tightly. They were both standing in what I recognized as Nora’s front driveway. I
flipped through similar pictures. It looked obvious: Elizabeth was distressed and Nora seemed dismissive, even angry. I wasn’t sure what the hell I was looking at. But it didn’t look good.
“How did you get these?”
“Elizabeth… gave me reason to mistrust her at times. These were taken by a personal investigator I hired a few weeks ago. I haven’t taken it to the Police yet.”
“It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Dean, I’m trying my damndest to get out of this shit. I didn’t kill Elizabeth.”
“Well, does that mean she did?” I said and tossed the photos aside.
“It doesn’t matter at this point.”
We exchanged cold looks. He was going to throw her under the bus, and he was asking me to help him do it. I swallowed hard but couldn’t quell the rising nausea. I needed time to think. Needed to be alone to try and figure out what the hell was happening. He stepped forward, rested his arm on my shoulder and looked down kindly at me.
“Dean, listen to me. She manipulated you. She’s a woman who takes money to play out men’s fantasies. Do you honestly think you were having some kind of relationship with her?”
“I… I don’t know what to think.”
“You got taken in, that’s all. But the game stops here. I’m going to destroy her, it’s as simple as that. You go home and get some sleep and tomorrow we’ll be making a press statement and chatting to the lawyers. Ok?”
I picked up my own glass, downed the cool burning liquid without tasting it and grimaced.
“Sure.”
Chapter 2
Myth: Money can’t buy love
Reality: If you were wealthy enough, why would you need love?
