by Livia Grant
Royalty, American Style
King of Baseball
Livia Grant
Contents
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Bonus Scenes: Christmas Morning
So What’s Next from Livia?
Excerpt from Black Sky Ops
About the Author
Also by Livia Grant
Thank you from Livia
Copyright © 2017 by Livia Grant
All rights reserved .
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review .
Authors Note: This book is meant for adult audiences only. It contains explicit sexual encounters and adult themes .
e-Book ISBN: 978-1-947559-92-9
Print ISBN: 978-1-947559-93-6
Blurb
She refuses to be another notch on the King of Baseball’s bedpost .
Playboy Colton King is American royalty... sports royalty that is. The MLB all-star is also the newest millionaire bachelor in an R-rated cable reality show. Six gorgeous women are prepared to do anything to win him as their prize. So why does he only want the one woman on the set he's not supposed to have ?
Harper Gardener wasn’t supposed to be part of the show, but when Colton turns his charms in her direction, she finds resistance is futile. Can you make it out with her heart still in tact and without being made the fool on national television ?
Chapter One
"C olton! Over here! Can I get your autograph ?"
Colton King pulled his roller bag through the throng of media crews and diehard fans standing between him and his waiting car. Women's hands groped him. Paparazzi photographed him. Men held out jerseys with the number twenty-one to be signed .
He should be used to the routine, but today, he was done with the attention. His head throbbed, courtesy of the excessive booze he'd consumed the night before. He'd unsuccessfully tried to drown his regret at being conned into participating in one of the stupidest publicity stunts in the history of Major League Baseball. Not exactly the kind of accolade he was going for .
Another damn World Series ring would have been better .
He made a run for it through the final crowd on the sidewalk outside his New York City loft, diving into the back of the waiting limousine. The doorman slammed the door closed behind him, instantly bringing the roar of the crowd to a manageable level .
"Your fans love you. I couldn't be more pleased that you're on board for our little project," Gavin Wallace observed .
"That makes one of us," Colton retorted under his breath .
His friend, and agent, Van Vencinti shot him the evil eye from the seat directly across from him. Considering this stupid stunt was Van's idea, Colt doubled-down .
"Did you bring a copy of the contract? I'd like to review the penalty section again. Just how much will it cost me to abort this nonsense right now ?"
He was only half kidding .
He continued before the men could interrupt him. "It's bullshit that you conned me into this during the playoffs. You know damn well I wasn't focusing on the details." He looked his agent in the eye and added pointedly, "You're supposed to be protecting me from doing further damage to my reputation ."
Van had been with him from the beginning. He was probably the only person on the planet whom he could count on to give him the unvarnished truth, which made his answer all the more damning .
"This is about more than your reputation. It's about your legacy. You're thirty-six-years- old. You may be the king on the field, but it's time to start thinking about what comes next. You have two… maybe three good years left to tie up the MLB doubles world record, but then what ?"
Colt was tired of this conversation already .
"I don't see how this dog and pony show is gonna do squat for my post-career ."
"You said you wanted to break into broadcasting ."
He scoffed, "And? This is the antithesis of that ."
"It's TV. You've got a reputation for being aloof. You may be royalty on the field, and the fans adore you, but you need to work on your insider relationships ."
"Last time I checked, it was gonna be six women and me, not baseball or network executives. How the hell will this project move those important relationships forward?" he questioned .
Gavin injected, "Maybe Van didn't mention it, but I don't normally produce reality television for Showtime." He paused, pinning Colt with a glare. "My primary gig is producing athlete interest spots for ESPN ."
Ah… now we're talking. Colt glanced at Van who was grinning from ear-to-ear .
"Fine. I guess I'm gonna do this, but why me ?"
"Why not you? The name of the show is Royalty, American Style . Each season we'll feature a different member of American royalty. Only A-Listers. We already have seasons two and three lined up with a Grammy Award winning rock star and a People's Choice Award winning movie star. But because ESPN is pulling the strings, we got to choose our leadoff man, and we chose you, the king of baseball. You should be flattered ."
More like terrified. "This is just so old. It's been done over and over. I'm a confirmed bachelor. Moreover, I like it that way ."
"Why do you think we shopped this to the cable channels? This isn't going to be The Bachelor with chaste kisses and rose ceremonies ."
While that assurance relieved him, it equally confused him. "Then I think you'd better explain what it is going to be like, because I haven't got a fucking clue ."
Gavin and Van glanced at each other. Colt got the distinct impression they were deciding who got to break the bad news to him .
Van lost. "Think of this as an R-rated Bachelor . We've cut the field down to six women. All smoking hot. All with very different attributes they bring to the table. All you need to do is have fun and get to know them. Try them all on for size. Decide if any of them might fit into your future ."
"Uh-ha. And when you say R-rated you mean …"
"Your reputation precedes you. You're a playboy. So play. We want edgy. The only rule is nothing non-consensual. The women have all signed NDAs and ironclad contracts. We'll be able to lock anything down from making it on air if we need to. The only thing you can do that will get you in legal trouble is rape. They've signed on for everything else, and since there are cameras in literally every room in the house except the shitter, you don't need to worry about any he said/she said ."
"Wait a damn minute. I knew I'd have a crew following me everywhere I went. No one said anything about cameras planted in all the rooms. I expected to have a production schedule. Time off ."
"You expected wrong. This is reality TV. There is no script. There will be a filming schedule to support the structure of the show, but for the next six weeks, you're on 24/7 ."
"Jesus Christ. So let me get this straight. I'm supposed to live with, and sleep with, six women at the same time, all on camera? You're turning me into a porn star. That ought to be a nice transition after baseball. My lifetime .339 batting average will come in really handy… not ."
Gavin tried to reassure him. "Settle down. It will be a tasteful show. Of course we won'
t show everything. Keep in mind, with forty-six cameras running 24/7, we could potentially have thousands of hours of footage. Less than one percent of that will make it into the show. That's why we are taping now, but the debut isn't until January. It'll take that long just to produce the finished product. Just be yourself. Have fun ."
He was feeling a bit better until Van added, "And anyway, how is this any different than your normal week? It's not unheard of for you to have six woman going at any given time ."
While that may have been technically true a few times when he was younger, Colton felt the need to defend himself. "Listen, the women I date know the score ."
"As do the women on the show. Really, this should be business as usual for you," Gavin reiterated .
"Except for the cameras… and that they will be living together and comparing notes… not to mention the fact that I'm supposed to down-select and choose just one of them at the end of the show ."
"It'll give you an opportunity to show your acting skills. Who knows? Maybe this could land you a Hollywood contract. You've certainly got the looks and the body for it. You'd bring instant recognition to any project. Look at this as a six-week screen-test ."
Colt bit his tongue. What was the point in complaining now, anyway ?
The driver weaved them out of the Manhattan traffic and onto the I-95 North, picking up speed as he hurtled Colton towards his doom waiting at the Connecticut mansion. Colt might have tried to look at this as a six-week vacation in the country except for the fact that he now knew it would be more like living under a microscope .
Colton closed his eyes, trying to enjoy his last hour of freedom from prying eyes, but he had to endure listening to the other men in the car plotting his demise. He replayed the last two days in his head, details finally falling into place. The show had sent a camera crew to Manhattan to interview him for the first episode and promo shots. It had been fun to show off the luxurious loft he'd worked hard to make his own. They'd followed him as he'd received the VIP treatment out on the town; dining in a five-star restaurant; dancing in an exclusive club; drinking top-shelf liquor. Shit. And getting a blowjob from that groupie under the table. He sure as hell hoped they hadn't filmed that .
He must have dozed off, because when he jarred awake, they were off the highway, weaving through thick woods surrounding curved roads. Despite the trees being bare in the November chill, he could see the serene beauty of the rural setting, bringing back memories of his childhood. The only signs of life were gated entries every half-mile or so, the driveways they protected so long that no houses were visible from the road .
At the top of a hill, the driver slowed, stopping at the electronic keypad stand next to a twelve-foot wrought-iron fence. The opening of the gate coincided with a lurch of Colt’s stomach. His light lunch was threatening to reappear .
Unaware of his passenger's discomfort, the driver wound them around a curve that opened up to a long, tree-lined driveway. To the left was a well-manicured lawn with what looked like several seating areas centered around fountains and monuments, giving it the feel of a secluded park in the city .
But it was the right side of the lane that held his attention. A white fence enclosed a meadow where over a dozen magnificent horses grazed, several looking up from their meal as they passed .
"We lucked out getting this place. It's been on the market for almost a year. The owner passed away and the executor of the estate is holding out for big bucks. The good news is that it was still furnished and available for us to rent. They had retained the caretakers to maintain the stable and the property. All we needed to do was supplement with our support personnel. There are nine bedrooms, twelve bathrooms, a movie theater, gym, pool… you name it. Think of it as a vacation ."
"A vacation where every word I say and every action I take is being recorded ."
"And how is that different from your normal day? You're in the spotlight every time you leave your house ."
"Precisely. But you're telling me this is my house for the next six weeks. You see my dilemma ."
"You're worrying over nothing. This is right up your alley ."
The car had stopped. The driver was holding open the door. Colton stepped out to what felt like his doom .
* * *
C olton took one last look at his reflection in the full-length mirror, liking what he saw. The producers had filled his temporary closet with a wide array of designer clothes, most custom-made specifically for him by his personal tailor in the city. One of three expensive watches from the dresser complemented his black suit. He'd asked the hair and makeup guru to leave a day's scruff on his chin to remind the ladies he was about to meet he wasn't all polished and clean like his appearance might lead them to believe .
He'd had enough time to think through his game plan. Gavin and Van had led him on a tour of the property, helping him devise a plan to divide and conquer the contestants of the show. And that is what he'd think of them as—contestants on a game show. It may be a fucked-up kinda game, but it was one he knew well .
He wound his way through the opulent home, too distracted to stop and look at the ornate workmanship of the wood trim or the richness of the carpets and decor. He needed to stay on point, focus on making a good impression, not only on the six women he was about to meet, but on the support staff as well since he was intimately aware that they would be deciding what snippets of his life over the next six weeks made it on screen and which would fall to the cutting room floor .
The show's narrator and host, Ryan Remmings, waited for him at the bottom of the steps of the grand foyer. As Colton made his way down the curved staircase, he allowed himself to get a bit excited at the thought of watching six beautiful women take the same path. As much as his head lamented his rash decision to participate in the show, he was equally confident his cock was going to enjoy the challenge immensely .
"Colton, perfect timing." Ryan reached to shake his hand. Colt tried to ignore the movement of the cameraman off to his right who was trying to get the shot and yet stay out of the action. The host must have noticed. "Just try to ignore the cameras. After a few days, you won't even notice they're there ."
He seriously doubted that .
Ryan went on, unaware Colt was only half paying attention. A heavenly aroma wafted to him, smelling very much like his favorite dish from his favorite restaurant. It distracted him just long enough that he almost missed Ryan's invitation to look up the stairs .
Colt turned back towards where he'd come just in time see a drop-dead gorgeous woman waiting at the top stairs, holding there until their eyes met, ensuring she had his full attention before beginning her descent .
When her high-heels hit the marble floor, he noticed she stood at his height. Tall and lean, the brunette with long, thick hair and olive skin looked like she should be on a runway .
Ryan made the introductions. "Colton, I'd like to introduce you to your first lady, Cleo Tavares. Cleo, this is Colt King. Among other things, Cleo was born and raised in Brazil. She was the runner-up in the Ms. Universe pageant three years ago and has since been working full-time as a runway model in Paris, New York, and Milan ."
Okay, so maybe this wasn't going to be such a bad deal after all. He reached out to take her hand, bringing it to his lips in a show of chivalry. "Nice to meet you, Cleo ."
"Very nice to meet you as well." Her accent was thick, but sexy as hell .
"Where do you call home these days?" His charm had flown out the window, surprisingly intimidated by the Amazon beauty .
Stay calm. She's just another target .
"I prefer to stay in New York City, but unfortunately, I have had some pesky visa issues. Luckily, the show was able to influence immigration to allow me to stay ."
So… Colton read that as a good sign. She was play-date material, but would be out o
f his hair once deported. Then he wondered if she were participating to try to catch herself a rich American husband .
Well, fuck that shit .
Thankfully, Ryan wanted to keep things moving along, inviting her to proceed into the next room where the long dining room table would host their nightly dinners together .
"Ready to meet our second lady?" Ryan asked, but he didn't bother waiting for Colt's reply, turning instead to the staircase to nod at the blonde at the top of the stairs .
She looked familiar, but Colt couldn't place her by the time she stepped on the foyer marble. She'd chosen a sporty outfit with a frilly mini-skirt, and the scooped neckline of her blouse showcased her ample breasts. The spray-on tan looked fake, but the defined muscles of her arms and legs were the real deal. This chick worked out .
"Colton, this is Kylie Kelly. You might recognize her. She's the queen of the tennis world these days, much as you are the king of baseball. We thought you two might enjoy a chance at hitting it off ."
As soon as Ryan mentioned her name, things clicked into place. Colt followed Kylie's Instagram and Twitter accounts where she regularly pulled thousands of hits within minutes of her postings. Not only an athlete, she was a walking marketing machine. This was potentially something his reputation could benefit from, if it went well—or something that could bring him down, painting him as the bad boy, if it didn't. Just what he needed, to get thousands of Kylie fans hating him .
The third woman to stand at the top of the staircase was as different from the first two as possible. Dressed in a floral sundress, despite the November weather, the strawberry-blonde moved cautiously down the steps—less sophisticated, but just as lovely. Her eyes focused more on her feet than on the bachelor waiting for her, and when she reached the foyer and looked up at him, her pale green eyes widened, complementing the smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose .
