Love Struck Bad Boys - 3 Novel Box Set

by Amber Burns

  “Besides, it’s not like this match is unsavory. Campo’s eldest daughter is a summa cum laude graduate from Boston’s Business School. She’s also an accomplished musician and humanitarian. And I’ve been told she’s a virtuous young woman.”

  I sneer at his wording. “Like I give a shit if she’s a virgin.”

  “Ryker!” Custodio’s fists come down hard on both sides of the arm rest. His face is that mottled red. Combine that with his dark eyes, glowing from the fed fire and the twitching moustache and I’m reduced to the scared tween called to his house decades ago.

  “Enough,” he says, control reigning once more, the remnants of his anger in his closed fists. “You will meet Campo and his daughter and that’s it.”

  “I have no say,” I mumble, hand skimming the poker, palm wrapping around the end. “Is it always going to be like that?”

  “I’ve already told him about you,” Custodio continues like he hasn’t heard my comment. “I supped with the man and his daughter prior to this change in pace, and I can assure you she’s both beautiful and pleasant. I’m sure nothing you’ve yet to see in your Hollywood.”

  The more he talks, the more I’m picturing striking him to silence. I need to think, to digest his words; murder isn’t the sane response, but Custodio keeps talking…

  A knock breaks his speech. Blissful respite is mine.

  “Dad?” Lola pushes through, adjusting the pink binder in her hands and pausing when she notices me, perhaps the impression of her malignant lie of Dr. Olsen coming back fresh to her mind.

  Good. She’s becoming too much like her old man.

  “I can come back later.”

  Custodio calls her back.

  “But, I’m not interrupting anything right?”

  Lola’s shy glance my way explains her uncharacteristic hesitance. An ugly thought froths up from the churning of my mind: If he could, would he force me to marry Lola?

  I wouldn’t put it beneath him.

  “We were just planning your party, my dear,” Custodio meeting Lola halfway this time, tucks his only daughter under his arm. Turning to me, he nods, his warm smile saying one thing, his chilly gaze another. “Ryker was telling me how much he’s looking forward to celebrating your party with his band.”

  Mess up, and you’ll pay dearly.

  “Really?” Lola’s squeal brings me to face her. She claps her hands together and laughs a tinkling, heartfelt joy. “Are you really going to play at my birthday party, Uncle Ry? You and the rest of Tense Finger?”

  That’s not what her father said, but the teen ran with it and now I had to pick up the pieces of this mess.

  I share another look with Custodio. The older man is rigid and I realize, in the face of being sacrificed as chattel in his marital business deal, I have the upper hand.

  Shifting my smile to Lola I wink. “You only turn sixteen once, right?”

  And you can only get married once, legally that is. So I’d just have to find a way to get hitched before the Campos arrive.

  2

  A bouquet of white tulips, a box of expensive German chocolates and I’m ready to tackle a certain school counsellor.

  I wait for school to let up, kids clearing faster than usual for their Friday afternoon rituals. I called ahead to the receptionist in the counsellor’s room and asked to be pencilled in with Dr. Olsen for a late afternoon slot.

  Being put on hold while the receptionist confirmed was the longest time for my nerves to be hammered out into thin, flimsy wires and rivalled with the Grammy nominations two years ago after Tense Finger’s eventual first win. And I thought that Grammy speech was hard…

  Finally the receptionist returned and confirmed Dr. Olsen’s acceptance of the appointment. I had let out a whoosh of breath, a frothing excitement swallowing the apprehension I felt seconds ago.

  I bypass the office this time, heading straight for the counsellors’ offices. The waiting room is cleared, and so is the other counsellor’s office.

  Good.

  We could use privacy for what I’m planning to ask.

  She’s expecting me when I get there; the door open I stand by the threshold and knock. Astra glances up briefly, her glasses pushing back those red-brown waves from her face.

  “Please come in, Mr. McBride,” she gestures to the seat in front of her.

  She’s wearing a long-collared blouse today, an emerald green silk shimmering in the office lighting as she adjusts back in her swivel chair. My eyes drag back to her frown, noting I haven’t come empty-handed.

  I bypass her offer of a seat, knowing I won’t be able to sit still across from her anyway.

  “I hope these will stand in as a proper apology.”

  Astra’s thin red brows hike up. “For?”

  Had she forgotten already?

  After leaving Custodio and his family last night, I checked into a B&B on Main Street, a family-run business of five bedrooms, three of which were occupied, and where I knew I wouldn’t be recognized.

  I spent the night and the following morning pacing, counting the flowers on the worn carpet flooring around the practically untouched bed. I couldn’t close my eyes and not hear Custodio’s proposal, nor un-see Astra’s face peering up, her shirt parting to reveal the tops of her breasts…

  I swallow at the fantasy of burying my face between her large tits, turning to hover over one of her pert nipples, my tongue wagging first one nub then the other to stand for my attention.

  My shaft swells inside my jeans. I haven’t been this randy since…well, probably since I hit puberty and realized girls had this magical power over me. But Astra is proving to be the most powerful woman I have met.

  Back and forth, and back and forth I paced until the idea grabbed me by the throat and balls, forcing me to bend to its will. Next thing I know I’m picking up the phone in my room and dialing out to the school, setting things into motion quickly.

  “…but I can’t accept this,” she’s saying and I’m back in the quiet hush of the office, my offerings of sweets and flowers hanging between us.

  “Why not?” I tighten my grasp on both chocolates and tulips.

  “As I said,” she starts, as if she knows I’ve been dreaming of pleasuring her for the past twenty-four hours since our meeting. “It’s both unnecessary and inappropriate.”

  “Why?”

  Astra straightens in her chair, elbows on her armrests her hands swing round to clasp together over the same silver belt around her waist. “Well, unnecessary because the incident doesn’t need this level of apology and inappropriate because...well, because.”

  “Because?”

  “Mr. McBride, please.”

  I cut her off. “Please what? I just want to know why my gifts are being rejected. I think I’m owed that much.”

  I can see her swallow hard, her throat convulsing with the strain. When she doesn’t say anything I add, “At least give me a reason to take these back with me since their intended owner doesn’t want them.”

  “Very well, then here’s your reason: I can’t accept gifts because it could be considered bribery.”

  I chuckle to cover the nerves. Has she figured out what I’ve come for?

  This early in the game, I’d stand no chance of convincing her. I try for nonchalance as I pick up the ball of our conversation. “And what exactly would I be bribing you with?”

  “Getting Lolinda Lopez out of our sessions? Maybe clearing her with the vice-principal – I don’t know Mr. McBride.” Astra plucks her glasses from her head and wheels closer to drop eyewear and her hands on the papers in front of her.

  “Is that what the other students’ families do?”

  Her thinning mouth gives me all the confirmation I need.

  Poor woman.

  Under the mask of fire and ice, the lines of fatigue around her eyes and mouth become more pronounced. There’s a slump to her shoulders too, like she’s about to cave in on herself and fall flat asleep atop her work at any moment’s notice.
<
br />   It had to be taking all her energy to stay in this room, to stay working at St. B&J and not scream and run for the shore, run towards sanity outside the school doors.

  The crinkling of the bouquet’s wrapping paper and the crunching of box of chocolates reminds me to loosen the hot, fast grip of fury on Astra’s behalf.

  “I really am sorry to decline, but I hope you can see what position I’m in. My hands are tied.”

  I bet they are. My hands pull back the gifts, the whites of the tulips looking dull now and the chocolates through the clear plastic window that much less appetizing. On the outside I give her a smile I hope doesn’t relieve my tightness or the disappointment of watching my plan crumble to dust like a sandcastle in the coming tide.

  Astra picks up her pen and resumes poring over whatever work I’d interrupted her from. I don’t leave.

  “Yes, Mr. McBride? Is there something else I could help you with?” She looks up ten seconds later when she sees I’m not using the time to head out of her office.

  “Yeah, there is actually,” if I could comically gulp and wipe off buckets of sweat, I would. Her shirt shimmers and shifts as she sits up, all ears…and eyes. Her gaze is pensive, and the weariness riding her shoulders seems to double the longer I take to explain myself.

  “It’s just that I could use your help – ”

  A cheery song stops my request dead and I lose my words, nerves pouncing over me. Astra mumbles an apology and draws her purse onto the table, the cheetah print surprising me. It’s so loud. Much too loud for the demure appearance her makeup and clothes and posture have suggested so far.

  It intrigues me even more.

  “Holly? What’s the problem?” she draws the phone from her ear and I hear her caller, a woman, hollering on the other end. Astra tosses me a quick look and turns her chair carefully to the side, her curtain of burnt red waves veiling her. “I can’t hear you, Holly. You’re too loud, and you’re speaking too fast, what’s the matter?”

  Astra nods, bobbing her head several more times before saying, “Yes. Harry’s Gold Trades. Mhm, I know the place. All right, I’ll be there in fifteen.”

  Clicking off, she turns and half-standing pauses. “That was an urgent call, as I’m sure you heard,” she tucks a strand behind her ear, hands clasping the phone. “If you don’t mind re-scheduling a meeting?” her tone implied we have nothing else to talk about.

  That’s what she thinks.

  Excuse me.” She grabs her purse, settles her phone in and hooks the lengthy brown leather strap over her shoulder.

  Her white pencil skirt flares out in sheerer material at the bottom, revealing the ends of her pale calves, dainty ankles and bright green kitten heels matching her blouse. She stops by the corner mat I hadn’t noticed and bends to exchange her current footwear for her weather-appropriate boots.

  My eyes settle on the skirt’s material stretching over her ass, exaggerating the cushiony-looking flesh, making my palms itching to reach out and confirm how soft I’m imagining it to be.

  Suddenly I’m just as curious as to what she’d do if I pull her back into me, hold her prisoner against my chest and whisper the marriage proposal into her ear. But my feet seem to be stuck to the ground. I watch her walk to the door.

  When I don’t follow her to the door Astra glances back, exasperation lacing both her expression and voice. “Mr. McBride, I have to lock up.”

  “Of course,” I mutter, forcing my boots to march and I all but shuffle from her office, feeling a kicked dog…or a bratty kid who was just told he lost all his privilege to his phone and computer and whatever else technology hooking him to the world.

  Grabbing her long, wool gray coat from the closet in the waiting room, she pulls it on and closes up the outer door too. Leading us to the school’s exit, I barely notice we’re outside until the white world’s glare forces me to squint.

  Since last night the light snowfall hasn’t let up. It’s quickly blanketing the world in a deathly silence. I see my rental and only three other cars in the lot; Dr. Olsen isn’t the only one dedicated to her job.

  She’s pointing her key fob at a shiny dark blue four-door parked a space from the SVU I picked up at the rental shop by the airport. The crunching snow under my boots alerts her. Astra looks back and I blurt, “I’m not following you.”

  “I didn’t think you were, Mr. McBride. I just wanted to wish you a safe drive,” her eyes dance from the tulips to chocolate box back to my stare. “And I am sorry, again, for not being able to accept your…gifts.”

  “No problem,” I wave the flowers in lieu of the smile I don’t have energy to fake. “And right back at you for the safe driving.”

  She’s turning away and I have to pass her car to get to mine. I glimpse her over my rental’s roof, the flowers and chocolates settled up there as I watch Astra. She’s starting the car and then stepping out to brush the snow from her windows. I should be doing the same.

  Which is why I can’t pinpoint exactly when my feet start moving, but all I remember seeing are her brilliant brown eyes and her glossy mouth popping open. “Mr. McBride?” there’s a breathless quality to my name.

  I have one hand on her snow brush, stopping her from clearing her car, grabbing her attention for what I have to say. “What’s business do you have at Harry’s?”

  Astra blinks. “I-I don’t understand.”

  “I couldn’t help but overhear you have an errand at Gold Trades.”

  “Y-Yes,” she stammers again; the doc losing her cool, professional façade gives her a whole new appeal.

  It’s not too cold today, but the small chill has rushed blood to her cheeks. Twin spots of red over her baby-fat cheeks taunt me, almost as much as her red mouth does. “But I don’t understand why you’re asking me.”

  She brushes her free hand over the flyaway strands settling over her vision, only to have a breeze push it back exactly where it was. Cheesy as it is, I reach out and do the honors for her.

  My hand lingers against her ear and not-shockingly soft hair. Astra’s eyes are wide enough for me to note gold flecks around her irises. My, isn’t she full of all these little surprises?

  Catapulting out of her shock as soon as my hand drops away, she shakes her head.

  I use the moment to tug the brush out of her grasp completely, listening to her stuttered protests as I get to work on her car, clearing the snow that set back the work she’d already done.

  “As I was saying, I know Harry doesn’t always play fair.”

  “Mr. McBride,” Astra’s saying, the stammer gone. I need to strike before she sets about building her resolve.

  “If you have a problem with Harry, I might be able to help. And if you’ll let me, I’d love to help.” I walk around the back, brushing off snow, rounding until the car is between us while I do the other side. The distance gives me room to breathe, to try less at feigning calm as she cocks her head and gnaws her lip.

  I’m starting to realize it must be a habit of hers while she thinks.

  At least she’s thinking this time, taking longer with her response. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

  “Harry can be mean, but it’s a tactic to ward off any outsiders or newbies not familiar with his business style.”

  She looks like she has questions to ask, but she says, “Thank you for the offer, yet I’m going to have to decline, Mr. McBride.”

  “For the same reason you can’t accept the flowers?”

  “Yes.”

  I round from clearing the hood and meet Astra in front of the driver’s side. She cranes her head up, coming to my chin now she isn’t wearing those heels. We’re a pace apart. I can close the gap and I’d be right against her, and she’d feel the bulge riding my upper thigh.

  My cock jerks when her soft sigh carries to my ears.

  “Since you didn’t accept the flowers,” I hold out on the rest, watching the guilt gnaw at that plump bottom lip, her pupils dilating. She looks to be swaying, gaze hovering to my mo
uth. “I hope you’ll accept my help now.”

  “Mr. McBride – ”

  “I prefer Ryker, Dr. Olsen.”

  “Mister, err, Ryker, I can’t… It wouldn’t be r-right.”

  “I’m not asking anything from you, and you’re off hours. The school can’t, shouldn’t have any say in what you do outside.”

  At the mention of St. B&J, Astra’s attention veers to the tall, dark, cheerless building. “It’s a small town.”

  “It is.” I say, gravely.

  If this is bothering her, I’m nowhere near to getting her to agree to my proposal. Rather than letting that deflate me, I’m torturing myself by asking her, begging her, “Let me come.”