Play My Game: A 100 Series Standalone Romance

by Lara Adrian

  “You said your father came down with early onset Parkinson’s, too. Was that how he—”

  “Died?” Jared finishes for me when I break off. There’s something cold in his eyes when he swivels a glance at me. “No, it wasn’t the Parkinson’s that killed him. It was the shotgun he put under his chin the day the bank sent their foreclosure letter on our horse farm.”

  “Oh, my God. Jared . . . I’m so sorry.”

  “Shit happens, right?” On a heavy exhalation, he tosses down the towel he used to dry his hair. “I only wish I’d been able to keep my mother from running in behind me after we heard the blast from inside the house.”

  I close my eyes, trying not to imagine the horror of that moment. “Why would he do something like that to both of you? He had to know the pain it would cause.”

  “He had his own pain. First the disease that was slowly devouring him, then the shame of losing everything he and my mother had worked for.”

  “But that wasn’t his fault,” I point out, recalling that Jared relayed some of the story to me at his studio. “He was cheated in a Ponzi scheme.”

  “Yes, he was. Although I imagine that was cold comfort to him during the months when the creditors were clawing at the door and all my parents’ rich society friends turned their backs to avoid being tainted by the scandal.” Jared shakes his head. “My dad ran the farm his whole adult life. His investments were supposed to carry us once he became too weak to work. The really fucked up thing about a Ponzi scheme is that it takes years to perfect. Years of deliberate, calculated deception. It starts with a lie to build trust, and then the one running the game keeps those lies coming, building on one another. The bastard who got to Dad knew he was sick, so he preyed on my father’s fears of leaving his family behind to fend without him.”

  My heart aches to consider it. It aches for Jared, too, because he’s lived with this pain and loss for so long.

  “I was twelve,” he says, “old enough to recall the day my father brought Denton Sweeney to our house. He wore a nice suit and polished shoes, and his brand-new Bentley had New York license plates. Mom didn’t appear to like him much, but my dad seemed to hang on every slick word that came out of his mouth. After Sweeney left, he called the house at least once a month. Seemed like Dad was always going to the bank for one thing or another. In the beginning, he was cashing in proceeds from Sweeney’s investments every other week. They were big checks, so Dad kept investing more and more. Apparently, he trusted Sweeney so much, he finally staked the farm, too. The scheme went on for more than two years before some other men in nice suits and cars with New York license plates showed up at the farm to talk to my father. These men also had FBI badges.”

  “Sweeney was found out?”

  Jared scoffs under his breath. “Not until after he was dead. He had a stroke on the toilet in his 5th Avenue apartment. It took a couple of weeks before the overdrafts started piling up and his clients started to wonder what was going on. By the time the authorities started sniffing around, Sweeney’s wife had fled the country with their young son and all the money Denton had stolen from more than two dozen investors. The pair were never located, not for lack of trying.”

  I close my eyes, appalled by the brazenness—the sheer cruelty—of the crime. “And all the people Denton Sweeney cheated, people like your father, who just wanted to take care of their families—they had no way to get their money back?”

  Jared shakes his head. “It was all gone. Unfortunately, for us, that also included the farm and all our horses.”

  “Jared, I’m so sorry.” I go to him. Whether or not he wants my comfort, I need to be near him. I need to touch him and let him know that I’m here, that I care about him—so profoundly, it’s an ache filling my chest. He doesn’t flinch away from the hand I lay tenderly on his shoulder. “How did you and your mom get through all of that?”

  “Not easily,” he admits, his deep voice low and raspy. “Mom sank into an immediate tailspin. The awful way he died, the financial worries, our eviction from the farm . . . it all weighed on her, more than she could bear.”

  “At the hospital, you told me she drank and smoked.”

  He nods. “That didn’t start until after we lost everything. It was a blood clot that stopped her heart, but I think she went downhill so fast because her heart was broken. She just . . . gave up.”

  “What about you? You were so young. It couldn’t have been easy for you, either.”

  He shrugs, as if his pain was inconsequential. “I couldn’t give up. I had my mom to look after.”

  “Didn’t she or your father have any family who could help you?”

  “Mom had a sister, but my aunt wanted nothing to do with her after the farm was lost. Dad was an only child from the other side of the tracks. All they had was each other.”

  “And you.”

  “I wasn’t enough reason to make my mother live,” he states flatly. “She used to draw and paint from time to time, but she had no interest in art after Dad was gone. The only work she knew was on the farm. I tried to earn money around town, but there’s only so much a fourteen-year-old kid can do.”

  I reach up and smooth some of the damp tendrils of hair away from his furrowed brow. “I can’t imagine how hard it was for you.” I had my struggles growing up, but at least I had my mom and Jen. Jared had no one. “When we were at your studio, you said you left Lexington and came to New York when you were sixteen.”

  “The day after I buried my mom, I spent my last few dollars on a bus ticket and never went back.”

  “Did you know anyone in the city?”

  “No.”

  “How did you get by all by yourself? This isn’t an easy place to navigate as an adult, let alone a boy on his own at sixteen.”

  “I did what I had to. Some of it was even legal.”

  “And the rest?”

  Those shadows that so often lurk in his eyes are there again as he meets my questioning gaze. I don’t want to guess at the things he might’ve had to do in order to survive, but the only thing worse than guessing is hearing Jared confirm my dread.

  “The only things of value I had were my wits and my body. I used both.”

  “Is that how you met Kathryn Tremont?” I’m aware of his affection for the wealthy socialite who’d been both his lover and his friend over the years, but part of me will never forgive her if she preyed upon Jared when he was at his most vulnerable. “Did she pay you for sex?”

  “No. She pulled me out of that world. Nate actually made it happen. He knew her before I did, and he persuaded Kathryn to let me live at the mansion and earn my keep in other ways. Art turned out to be one of them. She was a collector, also a patron for new talent. She helped me get my start, introduced me to the right people and made sure my work was shown in the right galleries.”

  My hackles smooth a bit, concern replaced by a feeling of gratitude for the woman I’ll never know. “I’m glad she was there for you. God knows, you needed someone to lean on after everything you’d gone through, Jared.”

  The words come out a little choked, and he frowns at me.

  “Christ, don’t look at me like that. Do not feel sorry for me. Pity’s the last thing I want to see on your beautiful face.”

  “I don’t pity you or feel sorry for you. I care for you, Jared.”

  God help me, it’s more than that. This feeling that’s been growing inside me goes deeper than simple affection. Deeper than the desire that consumes me every time I’m near this man, or the longing I feel when we’re apart.

  It’s so engulfing, it terrifies me.

  And as I hold his searching gaze, I glimpse a trace of that same stark alarm in Jared’s eyes, too.

  “You deserve more than I can ever give you,” he says softly. He raises his hand and I feel the tremors as he lightly caresses my face. The shaking has lessened since we’ve been talking, reduced to a small tremble in his fingertips. He exhales, his sensual mouth twisted with regret. “Nothing’s going t
o cure it. There won’t be some miracle to fix me. Not even you.”

  “I’m not looking to fix you, Jared. I’m just trying to be your friend. And I don’t turn my back on the people I care about.”

  “No, you don’t,” he says, his gaze moving from my eyes to my parted lips. “You make me wish I were a better man, Melanie.”

  Lifting up on my toes, I cup the back of his strong neck and bring his head down to meet my kiss. I take my time, savoring the feel of his mouth on mine, tasting the hunger in him that erupts on a low growl as I sweep my tongue inside to tease his. He encircles me in his arms, pulling me against the firmness of his muscled body and the very clear evidence of his arousal.

  When I draw back to catch my breath, he groans, his gaze hot with desire.

  I run my fingers through his thick hair, on fire with need for him all over again. “If you were any better, Jared, I’d never want to leave your bed.”

  His mouth curves. “That can be arranged.” Reaching down, he grabs my ass in both hands and grinds his erection into my abdomen. “In fact, let’s start that plan immediately. As I mentioned, there are twenty bedrooms in this house. I think you should see all of them.”

  I laugh, despite the heaviness of everything he’s just shared with me. Neither one of us can change our pasts or the people who hurt us, but we’re here. We’ve both survived.

  And, at least for now, we have each other.

  He kisses me again, melting away what little resistance I have when it comes to him.

  “I’m serious,” he murmurs against my lips. “I don’t want to let you go.”

  “Rosa only works until five,” I remind him.

  “I’ll pay her overtime. I’ll move her into your house.”

  I smile and shake my head. “I have a class in the morning.”

  “I have internet. You can take it online.”

  Laughter bursts out of me as he holds me in the circle of his arms and the overwhelming intensity of his hungered gaze. Dipping his head to the side of my neck, he kisses a trail of fire from my ear to my shoulder.

  A shivery sigh slips past my lips. “You’re very persuasive, Mr. Rush.”

  “You have no idea.” A nip on the tender curve of my neck sends need spiraling through my veins. “I need you in my bed now, Ms. Laurent.”

  I moan. “Persuasive and extremely bossy, too.”

  He draws back, grinning as he shakes his head. “Confident.”

  “Oh, that’s right.” I reach down, taking his erection in my hand. “Big difference.”

  “Yes, it is.” One of his brows wings up over his blistering gaze.

  It’s all the warning I get. In the next instant, my feet leave the ground and I’m suddenly tossed over his shoulder in a caveman hold and he carries back out to the waiting bed.

  26

  JARED

  Eventually, I did have to let Melanie escape from my bed and take her home for the evening.

  My hunger for her has hardly abated by the next day as I wait in the lobby of the university building to pick her up after her morning class. I’m earlier than I’d planned, having spent the first part of the morning at the house, meeting with Alyssa about her court documents and all the other things the teenage mother-to-be will need to consider when it comes to mapping out a future for her and her child.

  Not that I’m anyone who should be offering advice on life. My own has been fucked up for so long, I’m not even sure I know what a normal, happy future would look like. All I know is, right now, I want my days and nights filled with a certain fiery-haired, stubborn beauty who makes me feel more alive than I have at any other time in my whole existence.

  My chest constricts at the sight of Melanie walking into the lobby from her class. She’s dressed in white jeans and sandals and an off-the-shoulder top, her hair tumbling loose in a coppery cascade down her back. She looks fresh and innocent, but everything male in me flares hot when I think about all the deliciously dirty ways we enjoyed each other less than twenty-four hours ago.

  A small group of classmates surround her as they approach the lobby exit, all of them chatting and laughing over something one of them said. While the other young women are attractive enough, I only have eyes for the beauty at the center of the small gaggle. As her friends break off to go their separate ways, Melanie spots me and her entire face lights up with a bright smile.

  Christ, she’s gorgeous.

  The power of all that joy aimed at me is almost too much to bear. Still, I greedily soak it up, reveling in the way this woman can make me feel like a fucking god just by looking at me.

  The bigger miracle is that she can make me feel that way in spite of the reality that I’m nothing if not physically, pathetically, human. She’s seen the weakness I’ve hidden from nearly everyone close to me, yet it hasn’t seemed to dim how she views me.

  The affection in her eyes wraps around me like silk bonds, a connection I haven’t truly earned. Guilt over that fact still claws at me after everything we shared yesterday. It was selfish and cowardly to keep the truth from her in the beginning. All the worse to keep it from her yesterday, too. But no matter how I tried to frame the explanation she needs to hear, the words stayed jammed in my throat.

  Even though I know delaying the inevitable will only make things worse, there is a part of me that would like nothing more than to put the entire matter of Daniel Hathaway behind me and forget I ever heard his name.

  Melanie’s smile only grows as she nears me. “You’re early.”

  “You’re beautiful.” I cup her nape and drag her to me for a kiss I’ve been waiting hours to claim. “Ready to go?”

  She gazes up at me with her lip caught between her teeth. “More than ready.”

  I take the book-laden tote off her shoulder and lead her out to my waiting car. When I open the Aston Martin’s passenger door for her, she peers into the backseat at the bags of fresh produce and meats I picked up on the way, then shoots me a quizzical look. “What’s all this?”

  “Lunch.”

  I drive us to a private airport nearby, where the small plane I’ve chartered is already fueled up with the pilot waiting for us. She doesn’t hide her surprise, nor her relief that we’ll be making the flight to my Hamptons house in something other than a helicopter.

  “You didn’t do this for me, did you?”

  “I did.” I kiss her again, groaning at the way my body throbs to be inside her. “Traveling by plane also shaves ten minutes off the flight, and that’s ten extra minutes I’d rather have to spend naked with you today.”

  She laughs. “I can get on board with that plan.”

  “Good.” I pass her a bag containing a couple loaves of warm French bread and vegetables for salads. “You take this one. I’ll grab the rest.”

  An hour later, I’m flipping burgers on the big deck of the house in Sagaponack while Melanie’s got a feast set up for us on the table overlooking the beach and ocean. She carries out a big bowl of salad from the kitchen, then pours a couple of sparkling waters over ice and brings one to me at the grill.

  Her kiss lands light and tender on my jaw. “This is amazing. Thank you for bringing me here again today.”

  “Consider it a do-over.” Trading the bubbly water for the sexy woman standing beside me, I encircle Melanie in my arms. “I wanted to make this right.”

  “It already is.” She sets her glass on the edge of the deck railing and gazes up at me, her eyes reaching inside me the way no one has ever done before. “I mean, come on. Sand, salty summer breeze off the water, a private lunch being served up by the hot, handsome man who made me come so many times yesterday I lost count? What more could I possibly want?”

  I grunt, unable to curb my grin. “Just wait until you see what I’ve got in mind for dessert.”

  She tips her head back and laughs, giving me a welcome excuse to run my mouth along the pretty curve of her throat. She sighs as I skim my lips and tongue down to the small hollow, a small shiver coursing through her.<
br />
  My cock surges, desire already sinking its hooks into me. I groan and lift my head from the silky sweetness of her skin, giving her firm little ass a playful smack of my palm.

  “Lunch,” I growl. “Before I decide to make an appetizer out of you.”

  We work together to put the rest of the food on the table. It strikes me how natural it feels to have her here with me. How easy and relaxed it all feels. The way it just feels . . . right.

  As we eat, I watch, amused and more than a little turned on, as she bites into her burger with complete abandon.

  “Mmm,” she moans, closing her eyes for a moment. “This is so good.”

  No dainty nibbles or false declarations that a few morsels are all she needs to sustain her. While Melanie is naturally elegant no matter what she’s doing, there’s something viscerally primal about the way she eats. I could study her doing the most mundane things and never get bored.

  She must feel the weight of my stare because she abruptly glances over at me and pauses. “What is it?” She sets the half-eaten burger on her plate and picks up her napkin. “Do I have ketchup on my face?”

  I chuckle, mutely shaking my head. “You’re perfect. Tell me about the classes you’re taking.”

  She waves her hand in front of her face as she chews, then takes a drink from her glass. “I’m a semester away from finishing my MBA. That’s why I’m taking summer courses. The sooner I finish up, the sooner I can start looking for a full-time position in the city. Waiting tables at the diner pays the bills, but I’m not going to get ahead like that. Besides, I really want a career, something more challenging.”

  “Like what?”

  “Numbers come easily to me, so most likely I’ll start out interviewing with some of the big accounting firms.” When I purse my lips and take a drink of sparkling water, she tilts her head at me. “You don’t think it’s a good plan?”

  I set the glass down and lean toward her. “I think you can do anything you set your mind to. You’re intelligent, creative, tenacious—”