Sins of a Bad Boy (The Original Bad Boys Book 1)

by Naomi, Soraya

  SINS OF A BAD BOY

  By Soraya Naomi

  Sins of a Bad Boy

  Copyright © 2015 by Soraya Naomi

  Published by Soraya Naomi

  First digital edition published by Soraya Naomi. Book 1 of The Original Bad Boy series.

  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 and correct quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, businesses, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Cover Photo credit: GlebStock

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  Sometimes a love story isn’t blissful.

  Sometimes a love story is tainted with mistakes.

  But that doesn’t make it any less beautiful,

  and it doesn’t make the love any less powerful.

  Part 1

  “Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.” - William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet.

  CHAPTER 1

  The Loop, Chicago, 1900

  “Oh, William. Yes!”

  The organ rang through the sacristy, announcing the end of mass.

  William heard it in the distance while he drove his cock into Anne, who was seated on the edge of the priest’s desk by the heavily draped window in this lavishly decorated room.

  With her dress bunched up to her waist and William’s black pants held up by his suspenders, they were face-to-face and uncomfortably close. He could see his midnight black hair – that was unfashionably long but framed his face and made his silver-grey eyes more noticeable – mirrored in her irises.

  William Kade titillated most women and was rejected by none. He was sex and sin embodied. With his brooding mouth, a dimple in his left cheek, and often a hint of stubble, he was an enigma in his physique and actions, and everyone was fascinated with him. For a man of his time, he was a novelty, with tattoos below the elbow on each arm that drew attention to his sculpted muscles. His left forearm was adorned with a thick black and grey feather with the quill starting at his wrist and rotating slightly upward, the pointed tip of it ending at his elbow. The barbs of the feather spanned wide and turned grey at the edges, except in the middle on one side where a chunk of hairs broke off into birds flying free. His right lower arm was completely covered with a design of chains drawn in a crisscross pattern and ending at the back of his wrist with a dangling dog tag without any inscription.

  William was dead silent as he reached for his peak, but Anne’s voice kept distracting him. His large hands were on her bony ass, and her tone was starting to annoy him. He didn’t enjoy it when women talked or fake moaned during sex – a man could always tell when it was fake. And Anne’s moans were over the top as he banged her on the desk while she clung to his shoulders. When he fucked, he didn’t want to have to remember to be gentle and soft, not while fucking and especially not afterward.

  “Oh, hmmm. William!”

  “Shhh...” he ground out, his breath hot on her neck.

  “Hmmm…”

  Her voice was rapidly making him flaccid.

  Here he was, with one of the sexiest women in town, and he got to be her first. Yet William couldn’t find satisfaction in her body.

  Finally, she ceased her chattering so that only their groans filled the room, and just as William was about to get back into it, the door flew open.

  “Anne! Oh my god! William?!”

  “Fuck! Tabitha?” William pulled out and hurriedly buttoned his slacks.

  This was not good. Not good at all.

  Anne’s mother stood in the doorway with her hand covering her mouth, eyes enormous. Shock registered first, then fury blistered to the surface. Her eyes turned to slits, and she pointed her finger at him.

  Anne jumped off the desk. “Mother...”

  “Hush!” Tabitha ordered with a menacing scowl.

  Anne’s mother was terrifying in her rage. “You, philanderer! You dare to fuck my daughter after you’ve fucked me?!”

  “What?!” Anne yelled, her gaze shooting to William.

  A ghost of a smile spread across his face. William had been in his fair share of delicate situations, but this topped them all. Being caught by the mother of his current lover, when said mother was his former lover, was quite bad.

  William held up both hands and inched backward toward the window. “I had no idea,” he lied.

  He needed to escape before Anne’s father, who was one of his potential investors, stormed in. William couldn’t afford the scandal, and Anne definitely wasn’t worth the hassle.

  Anne and Tabitha began spewing at each other while William tried to slide the window open. If the two didn’t lower their voices soon, this would become a public row between mother and daughter about a fighter and gambling club owner.

  It was bad form all around.

  “When did you sleep with him?” Anne demanded.

  “Why are you interested in him?”

  William stared at them in amazement for a second, then he turned back to the window and opened it.

  “I-I like him. He’s mine. I—”

  Oh, no! William didn’t want to hear it. He absolutely did not want her love.

  Both spun around when William swung a leg over the sill.

  “William, where are you going?!” Anne dashed to the window.

  “Gotta go, ladies!” And he dropped the few feet down onto the mowed grass in the back yard.

  “William, if I tell her father, he’ll retract his offer to invest!” Tabitha yelled.

  William swiveled around and ran backward a few steps. “Don’t threaten me, Tabitha. If you say anything, I’ll tell our little secret. Better keep your mouth shut.”

  And he rounded the front of the church, jumping over the picket fence and onto the sidewalk. Then he dodged a car as he crossed the street. William eyed the exquisite piece of machinery. Introduced around the turn of the century, automobiles were still a new concept.

  As luck would have it, another vehicle, a black one that William recognized, stopped beside him, and his business partner, British industrialist, Charles Lindon, was at the wheel.

  Charles, at fifty years, was old enough to be William’s father since William was only twenty-five years of age, and most often, Charles did reprimand him as a parent would. Charles was the only father figure William had ever known.

  Charles came from nothing and had lived an impoverished life in England until he stowed away on a transatlantic steamship and arrived in America without a penny to his name. Through hard work – starting as a builder for an American architect – and a lot of scheming, he worked his way up. He saved every cent he earned and got a loan to purchase a high-rise in the Loop, transforming the first floor into a successful gamin
g club. Then he added two underground floors where he built an illegal fight club. The rest of the high-rise, where both William and Charles lived on the top floor, was rented out as private apartments.

  When Charles met William ten years ago, he instantly recognized a fire in William, a hunger to fight. So he decided at once to proposition William.

  At that time, William was in desperate need of help; he had just murdered two caretakers in the orphanage where he lived a life of poverty and abuse – which resulted in William’s hatred for the upper class. William confessed everything about the murders at the orphanage to Charles several days after they met, and through his political connections, Charles arranged for the crimes to be blamed on a burglary gone awry. And then he adopted William at the age of fifteen.

  For three years after that, until William was eighteen, he was trained to become a professional fighter and was tutored by the best teachers in the Loop to assist him in perfecting his spelling, speech, and social etiquette. And since that time, for the past almost seven years, William had been Charles’s most profitable fighter and his educated partner.

  Charles recognized a kindred spirit in William, and he saved him – in every way possible. Without Charles, William wouldn’t be what he was today. Charles was his best friend, his confidant, and his business partner. He was the only one in this world William would protect with his life. He was the only one William trusted.

  “I thought you’d be at the fight club?” Charles inquired.

  “On my way now – there was a minor…distraction at the church.” William smirked.

  “What did you do?” Charles asked, well, more accused.

  “Nothing for you to worry about.” Not wanting to share his latest adventure, William jumped into the car and prompted Charles to drive, “Lucky for me that you saw me. Let’s go.”

  ***

  After putting on his shorts, William retrieved his black boxing gloves from the chair and exited his private room, heading to the fight club via the narrow corridor only he and Charles used. Both William’s private room and the fight club were located on the second underground floor of Charles’s high-rise.

  At the end of the hall, he could hear the excitement of the crowd thrumming on the other side of the door. Rolling his neck and jumping up and down in place, he waited until he was announced.

  “And now, the one you’ve been waiting for. The one all of you bet your money on.”

  Laughter erupted from the audience.

  “Here is William, the Unconquerable!”

  William banged his gloved hands against the door, causing it to fly open, and he was welcomed by loud applause and cheers.

  The fight club wasn’t huge – around five hundred people could fill it to capacity. But this was a fight club for the middle class; hard working, blue collar men came here to unwind by drinking alcohol and watching fights. And bets were placed on all the fights, with William’s matches bringing in the most cash. He wasn’t invincible, as his name implied, but he did have an almost one hundred percent winning streak, gaining him a reputation that convinced most people to place high bets on him. The few matches that William did lose were done so on purpose and made William and Charles an exorbitant amount of money. Money they desperately needed to pay off law enforcement and keep the underground club viable and a secret from the general public.

  He made his way to the elevated boxing ring in the center of the room as people touched him left and right. Numerous women – street whores, widows, and bored society ladies – were present to find company. And as he passed an attractive, tall blonde who gawked at him, he French kissed her and she flung her arms around his neck. Whistles flew around them as he crushed his lips to hers, and she practically swooned when he went into the ring.

  His opponent tonight was Joseph, a young, fairly new fighter.

  Charles had already instructed William that he shouldn’t win this fight easily, because the next one was going to be against a lightweight where people would bet ridiculously high amounts on William since they were sure he would win. As much as he hated it, he already knew he wouldn’t be victorious in the next fight.

  He stepped through the ropes of the ring and greeted Joseph with a fist bump. William smiled malevolently to taunt Joseph, who was already riled up and moving around William rapidly the moment the bell rang to kick off the match.

  With a smug expression, Joseph instantly swung his fist into William’s side. Then Joseph kept darting around William, so William took slow steps to exhaust him and couldn’t refrain from smashing a fist into Joseph’s arrogant face, making him stammer back and drop on his ass. William’s lips quirked up until his eyes met Charles’s – he clearly wasn’t pleased.

  Fortunately, Joseph jumped up, and William toned it down, taking a few blows from Joseph until he decided it was enough. And then he buried his fist into Joseph’s left side, and with a final punch to his temple, Joseph hit the ground with a heavy thud.

  “Our winner!” the announcer yelled over the screams of the crowd, holding up William’s arm.

  William left the ring instantly with Charles on his trail.

  In the corridor leading back to William’s room, Charles stated, “You did good.”

  “I fucking detest holding myself back. I could’ve knocked him out with one blow,” he seethed.

  “I know, William. But you love making money, right? Sometimes we do things for the greater good. Put your pride aside. You’re one of the most famous fighters in the Loop, but you cannot fight forever. It will ruin your body and your mind. You know we needed to find additional ways to make money. Have some patience. Once we open up the new underground club, which will attract the aristocrats and the richest citizens of the Loop, we’ll be swimming in money and we won’t need to fix fights anymore. And then you can decrease your number of matches.”

  William tore his gloves off as they walked through the door.

  Sometimes his existence seemed so devoid of life. William prided himself on having learned to be calm and controlled on the outside, and only when he fought, did he unleash the beast inside himself. There had always been a sense of ‘me against the world’ in his mind, but Charles had recognized that unwanted emotion inside William and taught him to channel it into his fights.

  However, these days, he couldn’t always release it through his usual outlet anymore. So after holding back during a fight, he still needed to cool down, and lately, he was finding it increasingly difficult to get back in control as the adrenaline kept rustling through him wildly. The only way he knew to solve any problem was by fighting, by hurting someone. There was satisfaction in feeling stronger than, not only his opponent, but also everyone else, since as a little boy, he always felt defenseless and trapped in the reality that was his underprivileged past. He had the scars of abuse on his side as a constant reminder.

  “When do we open the new club?” William asked, still slightly aggravated, and sat on the edge of his bed.

  Charles took his seat in the chair. “Good news. We can open in a week. The decorator is almost done. He kept asking me what we used the equipment for.”

  They both chuckled.

  “Are you sure you want to be this intricately involved in the club?” Charles inquired.

  William was unwrapping the bandages on his hands. “I’m looking forward to it. I’m hoping that it will help me settle down after fights.”

  “You’ve learned a lot regarding our new business in the last few weeks, but”—Charles pointed to the book with an erotic image on the cover—“keep studying the material I gave you. I’ve hired thirty females and ten males.” And Charles added in a stern tone, “Now clean yourself and put on your suit because we’ve been invited to Rutherford’s soiree.”

  William groaned in displeasure since that meant coming face-to-face with Anne Rutherford – the girl he left behind in the sacristy with her mother. “Do I have to join you?”

  “Yes, it’s imperative for you to keep conversing with businessmen;
that will aid you in shedding your lower class accent. Every once in a while it creeps back up. And you may drive my automobile.”

  That final statement made William’s eyes light up. “Deal.”

  CHAPTER 2

  “Couldn’t you at least have worn a top hat?” Charles reprimanded William as they drove through the bumpy streets of the Loop.

  “No, you’ll never convince me to wear hats, my old friend. I don’t care if all the rich men are wearing them. Be pleased that I at least wore a vest.”

  William reviled the shapeless attire that was fashionable at the moment. Instead, he wore vests that emanated his restrained strength. A dark sensuality stamped his features. He always stood out with his clothing and messy strands of hair that fell over his forehead. Tonight, he wore a white dress shirt underneath a light-grey vest, complemented by a black bow tie and black pants. For once, his hair was neatly combed back. As usual, his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows to expose his tattoos.

  “It’s a waistcoat, William, not a vest.” Charles shook his head as a smile pulled at his lips.

  William could never understand why Charles put so much thought into his proper speech and wardrobe. Charles, with his brown hair streaked with silver, always looked dashing. Even though he was only fifty years old and in perfect health, he used a cane, just because it was chic. And for another reason as well: the cane hid a razor sharp sabre.

  As William drove up to the front entrance of the cream colored two-story, he noticed the simplicity of the building. The Rutherfords had a well-built home, but it didn’t scream of opulence. However, it was enough to impress William, who came from nothing, and sometimes, he still couldn’t believe he lived among the higher middle class and upper class nowadays.

  Rutherford was a British architect without a title, who, like Charles, moved to America to start a new business. Rutherford had become a successful architect, one that Charles always solicited advice from when starting a new venture. He helped to construct Charles’s building and aided in the expansion of the underground first floor that would hopefully become Charles and William’s most prosperous club.