Grayson - A Scrooged Christmas

by Regina Frame

  REGINA FRAME

  Copyright © Regina Frame, 2017

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, without the permission in writing from the author.

  This book is a work of fiction.

  Names, characters and places are products of the authors imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to an actual person living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Editing by: Genevieve Scholl

  Cover Art by: Dark Water Covers

  DEDICATION

  To my awesome street team! You help me be the best that I can be and I love you BIG time! I can’t say thank you enough for sticking with me and sharing my work!

  Titles by Regina Frame

  The Beaumont Trilogy

  Saving Chloe

  Parker

  Forever Complete

  Rock Star Series

  A Dirty Affliction Novel

  Honesty

  Lyric

  Heartstrings

  Harmony

  Melody (coming soon!)

  New Rock Star Series

  Coming Soon!

  Wicked Rush

  MC Standalone

  Coming 2018

  Smoke

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thank you to the readers. Every one of you mean the world to me.

  You are my inspiration and I love you all!

  Please remember the best gift you can give an author is to leave a review! Thank you in advance!

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  I don't have to look far for sex. I never have. Even when I was in high school, I had girls throwing themselves at me. I'm probably the only guy who's ever attended three different proms with three different dates, all on the same night. It was a challenge, but I pulled it off. I had sex with two of them, and got a blow job from the third. Not bad for a Saturday night.

  Things didn't change much once I started college. Girls hired me for tutoring, which mommy and daddy paid for, but what they were really paying for was for me to fuck their daughter's brains out. I can't remember ever opening a book. They brought their book; it just usually ended up on the floor. I couldn't complain. I made a fortune, enough to pay for college, while I banked the money my parents gave me to use for classes.

  That's how I started my investment firm. I wanted to make sure that my future was set. That I didn't have to ask my parents for one damn dime other than what they had set aside for college. They have millions. It's what some people would call 'old' money, because it was handed down to them through generations. They have always liked to hold it over my head, until I made my own millions and dear old dad finally figured out that, that was no longer going to work on me.

  GRAYSON

  I pressed my thumb hard between my eyes, trying to relieve the headache that had developed since I took this call a little over an hour ago. Gage Hopkins was a man with more money than he knew what to do with, and that was why he was my client at Decker Investments. He also had an ego the size of the Atlantic Ocean and he loved to hear himself talk. He was like that obnoxious person on the plane that talked loud enough for everyone to hear him.

  He never called me at the office during regular business hours. He waited until I was ready to leave the office for an evening out. I swear the man was watching me from somewhere. He was kind of like my mother—always ready to let the air out of a balloon if she thought I was having too much fun. I looked at the time on my phone and proved what I already knew. I was going to be late for Friday night drinks with my best friend. It had been a tradition since we graduated college. I’d been anxious all day because Jake said he had something he wanted to talk to me about tonight. Guys didn’t do that kind of thing, ‘talk’ so it must have been serious.

  “You need to come for a visit in the next few weeks; let me take you to The Lounge.” He barked out a laugh, causing me to hold the phone from my ear. “We’re having a Christmas Party on the twenty-first. You won’t want to miss this. We’ve got these Candy Cane girls with huge tits. You’ll love’em!”

  The man owned two pro football teams and a gentleman’s lounge. You can guess which business got the most of his attention.

  “They'll be doing private shows upstairs, if you know what I mean." He roared with laughter, and then stopped long enough to cough in my ear. The man probably smoked ten cigars a day, and from the sounds of it, he should have considered quitting. "You'll get the royal treatment. I can promise you that," he declared.

  "I'll check my calendar to see what I have open. You know how it is; always kind of hectic around the holidays," I told him, while tapping my fingers impatiently against my thigh.

  I was just making excuses. I had no plans to visit his club. Especially around the holidays. People were just too damn happy. I didn’t have any good memory about the holidays as a child, and I sure as hell didn’t have any now. When I was a child, the holidays were always about some lavish meal my parents’ chef had prepared, or holiday cocktail parties with their snooty country club friends, which meant I was sent to my room to spend the evening with the nanny.

  "Sure. I understand," he replied.

  “I’ll be in touch,” I responded, and before he could say anything else, I hung up.

  I sent a quick text to my friend, Jake, letting him know that I'd meet him for drinks in thirty minutes, and then messaged my driver, Henry, to bring the car around. I breathed a heavy sigh, and slumped back against the cold metal of the elevator and watched the numbers as we passed one hundred and twenty-four floors. It had been a long ass week, and I was ready to start my weekend.

  By the time the elevator stopped on the ground floor, Henry was there waiting for me just like he had been for the past five years. Dressed in his black suit, white shirt, and tie. There was a light dusting of snow, and the cold winter breeze bit at my face, causing it to sting. Just as Henry opened the door of the town car, someone opened the door to the coffee shop two doors down. The delicious aroma floated through the breeze and filled my senses.

  "I'll be just a moment. I want to grab a cup of coffee."

  Henry offered to go inside and get it for me, but I declined. It wasn't really about the coffee, it was more about the sexy as hell woman that worked there. I'd been going there several times a week just to get a glimpse of the gorgeous woman. Hoping to make eye contact, but she was always busy.

  The moment I stepped inside, I spotted her immediately. She had her long brown hair pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of her neck. My dick twitched as I thought about what it would be like to kiss her there. To wrap her hair around my fist as I pound into her from behind. I'd only ever seen her stocking the shelves, but, that day, she was working the counter. Things were looking up for my weekend already. She was counting what looked like dollar bills, before shoving them into the register.

  "Large, black coffee," I announced, as I stepped up to the counter. She looked up at me with big green eyes that sparkled like emeralds, her pouty pink lips curled into a bright smile.

  "I'm sorry?" Her perfect little brows pinched together.

  "What are you sorr
y for?"

  "You said, large black."

  I arched a brow. Her little button nose crinkled, and that was when I noticed the light dusting of freckles that kissed her cheeks. She was even more beautiful up close.

  "It's the holidays. Don't you want to try one of our festive flavors? We have peppermint, pumpkin spice . . ."

  Before she could keep going, I held up my hand to stop her, causing her to frown.

  "All I want is a large black coffee."

  I said it a little louder and a little slower than the first time. Her posture stiffened, and her lips pinched into a straight line. I had succeeded in pissing her off. That time of year, people were just too damn cheerful, and I didn't need a damn holiday drink.

  "Name?"

  She held the cup in one hand and a black sharpie in the other. There was a slight trembling of her hand, and a light pink blush spread up her slender neck and on to her cheeks. I could tell that I affected her, but she was trying her hardest to hide it. Good. I didn’t know what it was about her, but I was drawn to her like a magnet, and had been since I first laid eyes on her several months ago. If she knew I’d been going there for the last three months in hopes of seeing her, she’d probably file stalking charges against me.

  "Grayson," I replied with my best panty melting grin. I swear she huffed as she stepped to the counter behind her to retrieve my coffee. That gave me the perfect opportunity to check out her ass, and it was a fine one at that. My dick took notice, too. I could ask her to dinner, take her to a hotel, and fuck her, but something told me that she might slap me for suggesting it. Something about her said she was not like the others.

  "That will be six dollars." She placed the cup on the counter in front of me.

  That was when I noticed the name on her employee issued, cheap name tag. Aubree. Her name was Aubree. Our eyes stayed locked as I pulled my wallet from the inside pocket of my suit jacket and handed her exact change. Her eyes moved to the half empty tip jar sitting on the counter beside the register, and then back up at me.

  "Have a good evening, Aubree." I smiled, turned, and took my six-dollar coffee outside where I handed the cup to Henry before sliding on to the backseat.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  He was on to me and my sudden coffee addiction.

  ***

  "Hey, man. Sorry I'm late," I told Jake as I lowered myself on to the chair across the table from him. The waitress stepped up beside him and replaced his empty glass with a new glass of Jack. I took advantage of the opportunity to order my own.

  “I’ll have one of those.”

  She smiled and batted her long lashes at me as I grinned and gave her a playful wink.

  Jake was a big man—almost as big as me—but he wasn't a big drinker. My guess was that something was going on between him and his girlfriend. I swear, he looked like a love-sick puppy. "So, what's going on?"

  I watched him tap his fingers on the table as his brows dipped down in concentration.

  "I'm going to ask Margo to marry me," he blurted.

  I sat my glass down on the table without taking a drink, and leaned forward over the table, because, surely, I couldn't have heard him right.

  "Why in the hell would you do that?" I asked, a little too harshly.

  He leaned back in his chair and narrowed his eyes on me. “Because I love her. It’s not like I expect you to understand, but you don’t have to be a jackass about it,” he snapped.

  "We made a pact. Remember?" I reminded him. This time, I did pick my drink up, and swallowed half of it in one gulp. I knew I was being an ass, but he needed to rethink this. "Women only want what they want—money, things, more money … and anything else we can give them. Do I need to remind you about my parents?" I asked.

  "I know we agreed to never settle down. Always the playboy, I believe you said. We were young and in college. I'm thirty years old.” He leaned forward in his chair and looked me in the eyes. “I'd like to have a wife and kids to come home to every day after work. Don't you?" he asked.

  I lightly shook my glass, watching the amber liquid swirl around the sides.

  "I don't remember a time when my parents just sat and discussed their day. I've never even seen them kiss. Hell. My days were spent with the nanny.” I took another healthy swallow of my drink. “My mother has her own room, and has for as long as I can remember. She sleeps with valium and Chardonnay every night, while my father drinks and smokes at the country club. I've known for a long time he's not there for the golf, so if you ask me that again, I'll give you the same answer. Hell no! Why on earth would I want a life like that?” I paused long enough to take a healthy drink. “I plan to still be indulging in the single life until I'm at least eighty."

  “Not every marriage is like your parents’. You make it what you want it to be,” he replied.

  I had women throwing themselves at me continuously, some of them being clients. I had wined and dined some of them, but some of them just had that sex crazed look on their face when they stepped through my door. I had a reputation for making fortunes, investing those divorce settlements, but I had an even bigger reputation for the size of my cock and the number of orgasms I could give. Why would I want to give that up? It was a sweet life.

  “By then, you’ll have saggy old man balls and no woman in her right mind would want some of that.” He threw me a sarcastic smirk.

  “Well then. I guess my right hand will be my new best friend, unless I could talk my home nurse into a sponge bath.” I chuckled.

  Reaching into my jacket pocket, I pulled out two cigars. The imported kind. None of that cheap shit you find in the tobacco rooms around here.

  "You'll regret that one day," Jake replied as he took the cigar I offered him and lit it.

  I smirked and shook my head. "Nah. That's one thing I'm certain about. No regrets here," I declared as a huge puff of smoke escaped my lips. We were in one of the only restaurants left in New York that allowed you to smoke inside.

  "I guess you'll be Uncle Grayson then." I coughed, choking on the smoke while my eyes watered.

  "I'm not uncle material either," I replied.

  "Yeah. You're probably right.” He chuckled. “I wouldn't want to scar them for life." He stood from his chair and tossed some money on the table. "I'm going to leave you to your miserable self and go see my girl."

  "Who said I was miserable?” I asked, grinning. “I'll have my dick wet before you even get to Margo’s apartment," I bragged, licking my lips.

  "Not every woman is out for the money, or to screw you over."

  I tipped my glass and finished off my drink in one big gulp before standing.

  "Whatever, man. I'm not keeping women around long enough to give them a chance to take anything from me. I'm never falling into that trap. I don't care how beautiful, kind, or sexy she is. And, so far, it's worked pretty damn well for me.”

  Jake's face was red, and I could see the tension building in his shoulders. “You’re not the same guy you used to be back in our college days. Believe it or not, I see that in you.”

  “Has Margo neutered you? That’s some pretty sappy shit you’re throwing my way.” I hissed.

  His nostrils flared as he glared at me. “Just because you’re New York’s most eligible bachelor, doesn’t mean you need to stick your dick in any woman that looks your way,” he stated.

  He had my best interest in mind and only wanted me to be happy. Couldn’t he see that I was happy? I was happy with the way things were, and I didn’t ever see changing them, or, at least, that was what I keep telling myself.

  We stepped outside the pub, into the brisk wind and blowing snow. "Good luck with your girl," I told him, and meant every word. "I'm going to shower and head to the club for a bit," I said, as he turned on his heel.

  "Have fun with your flavor of the week," he mumbled as he turned his back and walked away.

  There was no way to make him understand that I was relationship cursed from the very beginning. I didn’t want to end up
like my parents—two people living in the same house, passing each other in the hallway. Nothing more. Why the hell would I want that?

  AUBREE

  "Here's your share of tips for the day." Missy handed me a worn out twenty-dollar bill that looked as if it had been through the laundry more than once, but I'd take it. It was more than what I had in my purse right now.

  "Thanks." I shoved the money in my pocket and began wiping down the counter. "You'd think with it being the holidays, people would be a little more generous with the tips. I've fake smiled so much today that my cheeks hurt.” I frowned. “I'll probably end up with those little lines around my mouth by the time I'm thirty," I complained. “And I won’t be able to afford Botox to smooth them out.”

  Missy stepped up beside me and began filling the cup racks. "What about stuffy suit guy? Did he leave a tip?"

  "Who?"

  "Don't act all innocent. I know you know who I'm talking about." She arched her overly plucked brow and smirked. "I saw how he was looking at you. I also saw how you blushed while fucking him with your eyes." She bumped my shoulder playfully and laughed.

  "Well, if you're talking about the 6'2" dark haired man with the chiseled jaw, piercing blue eyes, in the tailored suit…" I paused and bit my lip, trying to take my mind off the pulsing at my core from just thinking about him. I remembered everything, right down to the way he smelled. Delicious. "He didn't tip. I even pushed the holiday flavors like Morgan told us to, and all he did was puff out his chest and order a large black coffee."

  Morgan was the owner of the coffee shop, and as a moral booster, as he called it, for every holiday flavor we sold, a percentage would go toward a Christmas bonus. I could really use the extra money for the holiday and my rent. Especially since I was already a month behind and things weren't looking good for this month either. "When he paid, he gave me the exact amount. Not one penny more!"