by Mira Bailee
Second Chances
The Lust List: Devon Stone
Mira Bailee
Copyright © 2014 Mira Bailee
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
NoMi Press
www.RomanceByNoMi.com
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
The Lust List Series
by Mira Bailee and Nova Raines
Look for these titles Winter 2014 and Spring 2015
The Lust List: Devon Stone by Mira Bailee
First Taste (The Lust List: Devon Stone #1)
Second Chances (The Lust List: Devon Stone #2)
Third Degree (The Lust List: Devon Stone #3)
Four-Letter Words (The Lust List: Devon Stone #4)
The Lust List: Kaidan Stone by Nova Raines
One Condition (The Lust List: Kaidan Stone #1)
Tangled Trust (The Lust List: Kaidan Stone #2)
Stolen Desire (The Lust List: Kaidan Stone #3)
Scandal Exposed (The Lust List: Kaidan Stone #4)
For everyone who has taken a leap
to give the one they love another chance.
Ten minutes ago, I was Olivia Margot–a mediocre, distracted assistant to an asshole event coordinator. But a few shots, some temporary confidence, and the unwavering encouragement only my best friend Maddie can give, and now I’m Superstar O, the one sitting in the backseat of Devon’s Benz, taking control.
“Well?” I ask as I stare into Devon’s bright blue eyes. He looks as surprised as I feel.
Devon leaps into the car after me, his millionaire grin a mile wide. “You’re serious?”
Of course I’m serious. This entire past week has been a whirlwind. Devon got me the very job I just walked out on. He spent the few days I’ve now known him being equally mysterious and frustrating. And through all the chaos of trying to work for an impossible-to-satisfy Mr. Keenly, Devon was the one highlight–even with his drama. He’s the one who protected me from the paparazzi. He’s the one who went out of his way to make me smile. And he’s the one who just picked me over his gorgeous, rock star ex-girlfriend, Kennedy Rose.
Is it really that earth-shattering that I can make impulsive decisions and act in favor of my own well-being? Yes, I suppose it is. But I was tired of Keenly being a jerk and getting away with it. And I was infuriated with Kennedy and her sense of entitlement when it came to who got Devon. You know what, bitch? I got Devon.
I rest my dizzy head against the back of the seat, my entire body tipsy and light as if it’s been lifted up on a cloud. I push out the irritated voice in my mind reminding me how irresponsible I’m being–how I told off Keenly, quit my job, and just left all my things back with Maddie in order to run off on an impromptu excursion with Devon. It’s only for the night. I don’t need my purse, my phone. I need the man sitting beside me.
“Do I look like I’m bluffing?” I say to him. Why would I jump into the car first if I’d intended to bail? “Now let’s get moving before my buzz wears off.”
He pulls the door shut as Mark shifts into drive and circles the driveway, looping back toward our exit. I look behind us one last time. The gorgeous mansion, all lit up and bustling inside and out. The front door opens as a woman in a green dress rushes out, looking upset. There’s too much drama in this Hollywood world, but I’ve made my choice. I’m a part of it now. If it means getting to be with Devon, then I’ll take it all. Past the crying girl, through the double doors, I see the party in full motion. There was no sudden implosion when I told my boss to fuck off. The house didn’t crumble just because I left early. And not a soul inside knew I was currently ditching all of them to make my getaway with The Devon Stone…Well, except for Kennedy.
And that thought couldn’t please me more.
No, the world didn’t stop spinning because I’d made a spontaneous decision. In fact, the only lives affected were Devon’s and my own, and it could only get better from here.
Devon leans in and kisses me. “So you have to be drunk to be into me? You taste like cinnamon and something fruity.”
That would be courtesy of bartender Maddie who likes to surprise me with each drink. I focus on my words to be sure I’m not slurring. “Let’s call it,” I articulate each syllable, “personality reinforcement.” I giggle and my veins pump with adrenaline. “And I don’t need it to know I’m very much into you.”
“Elaborate, Miss Margot.” Devon’s voice is commanding. “Tell me what you’re into.”
I smile, soaking in these moments when I can flirt with him candidly. “I’m into your messy hair,” I say, raking my fingers through his dark locks. “And your sexy scowl. And the way you don’t put up with anything. It’s like everything about you is filled with excitement.”
Devon’s eyes are on me. On my purple designer gown, on my carefully styled hair, on my smooth legs that feel hollow from drunkenness. Thankfully, we’re sitting. I wish I knew what he was thinking, but all I can do is stare at his sly grin as his gaze moves away from me and out the window. Where is he taking me, anyway?
“So you tell me. What are you into about me?” Er…what about me are–or why are you–never mind. He gets my point. Damn alcohol makes me speak like a fool.
But he doesn’t answer. Instead, he puts a hand on my thigh, and I bask in the tingling warmth that washes over me while I try to keep myself from saying anything else that could sound stupid. But why is he into me? There’s no doubt that I’m different from the others, but I can’t tell why it’s a good thing. I lack the celebrity experience and social status and…bank account that he must be accustomed to with other women he’s dated. I’ll only be a challenge, but there’s no denying what I can feel growing between us. How every interaction and every time he’s near me, I feel like…like I could fly. I feel more alive and more like the person I want to be when Devon is with me. How do I make him feel?
He stretches out his legs, and I laugh at his carefree ensemble of the night. He’s ditched his suit jacket, leaving him with the designer jeans and vintage t-shirt.
“You went all out tonight,” I quip. “Wasn’t this a black tie affair?” I run my fingers along his side, and he grabs my hand, holding it tight and pulling me closer to him.
“You don’t think I look good?” he says in my ear, his voice low.
He looks damn good, and I’m certain he knows it. I move in and kiss him, my tongue enticing him to bring me closer. His mouth tastes like liquor–we both needed that liquid courage tonight. Standing up to my boss was nothing compared to how Devon had to get up in front of everyone and congratulate his family for screwing him over. What will he do now? And how do I fit into it?
His strong arms wrap around me, hugging me close. Here, I’m safe. I’m secure. I don’t care that I don’t know what will happen tomorrow. Or that I’m disconnected from the rest of the world. The scent of Devon’s cologne and the heat from his body embrace me as I pull away from his lips and settle against his chest. This is exactly where I want to be.
Devon’s hand leisurely runs along my side and down my thigh. The light touch from his fingertips sends electric shocks through me, and I pres
s myself into him even closer.
We’re far from the Stone residence and heading away from the coast. My head still spins from bravery and alcohol, and I feel like we’re rising higher and higher on our own private Ferris wheel. I’m inching closer to the moon with my dream man by my side, when I feel the Benz come to a stop.
I sit up, looking out the windows. “Where are we?”
Parked in an empty parking garage, all I see are the black windows of a dark, empty building.
“You want excitement, right?” Devon asks as he opens the door and climbs out.
“Well, yeah–um.” I stumble out behind him, regaining my balance by grabbing ahold of Devon’s elbow.
I turn back around to grab my purse. Oh right, I abandoned it at the Stone mansion. Suddenly I feel naked without my trusty cell phone. But I’m with Devon. And he wants me to give him another chance. To trust him. So without any other option, I guess I will.
Devon seems so nonchalant as we walk toward the dark building in front of us.
“This place looks closed.” Of course it is. It’s the middle of the night, and it looks like a regular old office building. Where has he taken me?
He ignores me and approaches the doors. A discreet metal panel hangs on a wall near the left door. Devon slides it open to reveal a keypad. He punches in a code, and the doors make a clicking sound. My mind floods with questions. Dozens of “what’s” and “how’s”. But that’s every situation with Devon. He’s got mischief up his sleeve.
He pulls open the, now, unlocked door and holds his arm out to invite me in. It’s pitch-black in there, and I can’t help but wonder if we’re trespassing.
“Devon, I don’t know. I don’t think we should be here.” Is he trying to get us both arrested?
Since I hesitated, he walks in ahead of me, and I have to quickly catch the door before it closes. I’m either stranded in the scary, empty parking garage, or I’m breaking and entering into a business. Am I really expected to choose here?
Trust him. But why? He’s already proven he’s sneaky, and the tabloids have put him in the spotlight every time he’s broken the law. So how can I explain the closeness I still feel to him, knowing that he’s unpredictable? Reckless? The last thing I should do, if we’re speaking logically, is trust him. But my decreasing inhibition takes over, and I feel the unexplainable magnetic pull that I have toward him. I want him. I’ll go anywhere with him.
I follow Devon inside, and dim motion-sensor lights brighten the room enough to see rows of cubicles. What exactly is he planning on finding here? Or stealing?
He leads me beyond the cubicles toward another set of closed doors. It’s as if we’re making our way to the corporate offices. Like we’re about to commit some sort of heist.
“Can you tell me where we’re going, or should I sort out my alibi now?”
He turns back, only to give me a mischievous grin as he pulls out a set of keys and unlocks these doors.
“I’m serious, Devon. What is this? I didn’t go with you to–”
He opens the door to reveal a much brighter hallway. Shielding my eyes, I’m ready to flee. My throat constricts and my heart palpitates. This is too weird. But Devon strolls right in like this is perfectly normal.
“If we get caught–if we get in trouble–” I say.
He raises a hand to quiet me. I’m starting to think he’s having fun leading me on.
“No. Don’t tell me not to talk. Whatever you’re doing. I don’t want to anymore. Let’s go back. Is Mark still with the Benz?” Damn. If I had my purse… My pulse is racing, and my legs are growing heavier. They don’t want to move a step closer. My whole body is objecting to whatever Devon’s brought us into. “I’ll go back out. Mark can take me back to the house. You can stay and–”
“Good evening, Mr. Stone.”
I shriek and almost jump out of my skin. We’ve been caught. I knew it. Apparently, he wasn’t expecting the large-windowed office halfway down this hall. A man in a black suit sits behind a computer, but…he knew Devon’s name.
“Evening, Carl.” Devon nods at the man as we continue past him. So it’s okay that we’re here?
Another set of doors waits at the end of this hall, and I can only imagine what will be on the other side. A science lab? A bookstore? A three-ring circus?
But we stop short at an elevator instead. I’m just going with it. My curiosity has woken up, and this ridiculous game of follow the leader has to end sometime.
Devon punches in another code, and the doors slide open for us.
I sigh and follow him in as he pulls out a card and scans it, then presses a button with a ‘P’ on it. Going up.
“Alright. Tell me,” I say. “This is getting–”
He shuts me up by slamming his lips into mine, pressing me into the cold wall of the elevator. My nerves are already a wreck, and now they ignite with my lust for Devon. My heart beats an unsteady rhythm–quickening as we rise higher and higher. From one floor to the next to the next, he kisses me until I hear a beep and we stop. The doors open, and I’m astonished by what I see.
“Is this your…?” Words fail me as I take in the vast space. Dark wood floors and rustic, industrial furnishings… It’s oversized, yet the perfect fit for a wealthy bachelor.
“My condo, yeah.”
We walk into the open space and toward the living room area. I take in the copper light fixtures, leather couches, and a steel entertainment center that holds a massive flat screen and other electronics. I’m impressed by the classiness of it, though it’s still clearly a bachelor pad. An empty beer bottle sits on a side table and video game controllers lay on the couch.
I turn a full one-eighty to find the kitchen at the other end. An enormous island in the middle matches the same industrial feel as the living room–brushed metal and solid wood. Aside from a few dirty dishes piled in the sink, the kitchen is big enough and nice enough to suit a top chef.
Between us and the kitchen, an iron staircase twists up to an upstairs loft. Not that I’m in a hurry to see Devon’s bed, but…
I turn back toward Devon again, and he’s sporting his grin.
“You know you had me freaked out wandering around this strange place,” I say.
“I know.”
“So does it always take a private staff and multiple detours to get you home?”
He kicks his shoes off, and slides them toward a wall. One stops by a table while the other rolls into the entryway. Such a guy.
“That’s nothing,” he says. “My other condo requires a helicopter drop-off and six guard dogs.”
At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised.
“So do I get the grand tour?” I ask.
“There’s not much to it. I opted for a studio instead of that atrocity of a mansion my father owns. Is that not the tackiest thing ever? It’s like he’s compensating for something, and if Stones are known for one thing…Well, we don’t need to compensate for anything.”
My knees weaken as he casually talks about being well-endowed. I’d love to find out how that confidence translates in the bedroom. But tacky? The Stone Mansion? Maybe he’s confused. More like luxurious and awe-inspiring. But I suppose if that’s what Devon grew up with, maybe he never found it to be home to him.
“Living room. Kitchen. I eat in both,” he says. Then he nods toward the loft. “Up there’s where I sleep and…partake in other extracurricular activities.” He winks. “And there’s a bathroom up there and down here. Pretty straightforward.”
“And how many people know about your secret lair?” Translation: How many other girls do you bring here? How often? The idea of others standing right where I am…Nevermind. I don’t want to think about them.
“Not many. Consider yourself lucky.”
I’d bet money he’s just being nice.
He goes to the kitchen and pours us each a drink. Judging by the slowly tilting room, I’m not sure how much more alcohol I should consume tonight, but it’s taking the edge off. I
feel like I can do anything I want, and I’m pining to do Mr. Lust List Number Three.
Devon brings me another glass, this time red wine, and he walks past to sit on one of the leather couches. I follow, and he tosses aside the game controllers to make a spot for me. As soon as I sit, he reaches over and kisses me. His free hand grazes my shoulder and softly runs along one of my breasts. He moves his mouth to my neck, and the mix of his hot breath and smooth lips leaves me trembling.
“Not so fast there, killer,” I say, pulling back. My own boldness catches me off guard. Maybe Devon’s confidence is contagious, but as long as I feel I can speak my mind, then I’m going to try to uncover more of Devon. “You seem to have a lot of secrets. I don’t know how I feel about all that.”
“What do you want to know?” he asks, raising one eyebrow.
I hadn’t thought that far ahead. “Um. How many…cars do you have?” Oh, what a dumb question.
“You think I’m hiding that from you like it’s confidential information?”
“No,” I laugh. “I need to stall while I think up something more specific.” Something that’ll teach me something about you that no one else knows.
“Four.”
“Four?”
“Well, sort of. The Camaro is mine. It’s the only one I care about.” He draws little circles on my thigh as he speaks, and I have to contain my urge to giggle.
“And where is it?”
“Somewhere safe.”
Right. “And the other three?”
“Those are Mark’s responsibility. They’re all leased. Two limos–one black, one white–and the Benz.”
“Mhmm. You know how long I’ve had my run-down little Saturn?”
