by Kenna North
Contents
My Rival Darling
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Epilogue
My Rival Darling
By Kenna North
Copyright 2017 by Kenna North
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be used or reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Chapter 1
“I’m tired of seeing the same faces every night, wherever we go. There’s no fresh meat here. Ever. Eight point four million people and I think we’ve nailed almost all of them.” I sipped my martini and glanced around the bar. “Honestly, Riley, why do we even bother?”
“First of all, you would have time to nail even half as many people. Second, there’s still plenty of good sport, I’m sure, Alexis. You just haven’t found it yet.” Riley gave a nonchalant shrug. She seemed preoccupied and I realized her eye was on a brunette across the room. A shapely brunette, of course, in a skintight silver dress. Her head was tilted up and she was laughing at something a man in a suit had said, her eyes sparkling in the light.
“Passing fancy,” I muttered, my lips to the edge of the martini glass again. “You’ll be done with her in less than two hours, dear girl.”
“Yes, but what a two hours it will be. You might be tired of the selection, but I manage to find someone new every night.”
I tossed my dark, curly hair and set my glass on the bar. “Perhaps, but what about my nights? I think we need a new fishing hole, my darling best friend, and more interesting stories to tell. We’re getting positively boring.”
Best friends for over fifteen years, now. How time flies. We’ve seen our parents through divorces, remarriages, and each other through lovers. Our friendship began when we were just teenagers, infatuated with each other. Riley was my first lover, the girl who affirmed my every Sapphic longing with her gentle, but demanding touch. But she was – and still is – a love them and leave them type. So why are we both still friends?
Because we were both also irredeemable players, serial heartbreakers with no interest in anything but enjoying ourselves and the women we bring home. Why settle down with the same person day after day, when sexual conquests gave us new and exciting experiences? And who better to understand the ups and downs of such a spoiled existence as someone who understood your mindset – that mindset of “I want it all, I want it now, and I want it my way.”
I know what you’re thinking – we sound like awful people. But we don’t always drop our sex partners immediately after doing the deed. Sometimes we keep a good one around for a whole week or bring her to an important event to use as arm candy, until the shine wears off.
“Still,” Riley said, pulling me from my thoughts. “You’re right. She’s the same as all of them – tall, slender, probably addicted to her Pilates or spin class, and vapid as fuck. That doesn’t mean she won’t be fun to take to bed, though. She probably tastes like the beach.”
“Don’t fool yourself. That’s her spray tan talking to you.” I circled my fingers around the rim of my martini glass as I leaned back in my chair. “The thrill is gone, sweetie pie. We’re only twenty-four and we’ve had every available woman worth having in this city. We’ve done the A-listers and even more B-listers than deserved our attention.”
Riley tilted her head a bit, narrowed her eyes, and then nodded. “You’re right, but what do you propose we do about it? I hope you’re not suggesting we get some of that bridge and tunnel action. That’s where I draw the line.” Leave it to Riley to be concerned about ensuring she got the best quality pussy.
Not that I could blame her. We were both spoiled in many ways. Sure, our parents were both rich and gave us everything we wanted when we were children. After college, we both went on to work in media. As a magazine executive, Riley had her pick of any number of fresh, young writers, editors, stylists, models, and others. I worked at the same magazine as an editor, but I hardly encountered as many women in that capacity. Though a fair share of lesbian and bisexual ladies graced my office, I spent most of my time flirting with ad executives – a rather arrogant bunch, but good in bed – and business women who were impressed with my title.
It helped us that we were both pretty damn good-looking. Well, Riley was model-perfect, in my opinion. She could strut a runway and everyone would line up to watch. With dark blond, wavy hair, piercing green eyes, and an androgynous style, there was no mistaking her sex appeal. Especially in a button-down shirt open at the neck and a loose tie to show off her cleavage. It didn’t hurt that she exuded a strong, alpha presence. Riley enjoyed being the dyke. She loved to take charge; I knew as much from our brief time as lovers, when I had just turned sixteen and she came into my room and told me without hesitation that she was going to help me lose my virginity.
With my dark brown, shoulder-length curls, I didn’t consider myself beautiful, but I knew I was sexy and stylish. It wasn’t difficult to tell women what they wanted to hear and get into their bed, get off, and get out.
I trailed my fingers up my plunging neckline and curled them over my necklace, giving it a tug as I thought about our dilemma. Everywhere I looked, I saw the exact same fucks as last night and the night before that and the night before that…What was a player to do? I wanted something more exciting than that – something wild and new. Maybe even something a little cruel. The naughtier, the better.
“I’ve got an idea,” I said slowly as the notion formed in my mind. “A proposal for you, really.”
“A proposal?” Riley lifted an eyebrow. I loved when she did that. It made her look especially sexy. “I hope it’s an indecent one.”
“Oh, it is, dearest. It’s Valentine’s Day in just a couple of weeks, right?”
“I think so. I never keep track of those Hallmark days, you know.”
I chuckled. Of course she didn’t. She had more important things to think about, after all. “Well, I propose that we each find someone we can stand being with for two weeks and see if we can get them to fall in love with us.”
“What? Are you kidding? That only happens in the movies.”
“Well, a few movies, sure, but I’m not kidding at all. And then after that, we get to dump them without explanation. But let’s see if we can get someone to say ‘I love you’ to either of us.”
Riley’s lips quirked up at one corner and I could see her pondering the suggestion. It was, of course, vicious in the extreme. This wasn’t just loving them and leaving them. This was playing with their hearts in the worst way possible, toying with their emotions and then leaving them to pick up the pieces after we broke their hearts.
It sounded like the most fun we’d had in years.
“That’s just cruel and unusual,” she said in a low tone as she shook her head. “I love it. But who can I stand to fuck that many times in a row?”
I lifted my gaze and looked around the establishment. “First of all, I think not fucking would be part of the whole love ploy. Love isn’t just about getting your tongue into someone, or vice versa. At least
, so I’m told. There has to be some romance involved, so… not the brunette,” I said immediately. Riley would wear that one out and be bored the moment she felt the last remnants of orgasm tingling through her perfectly groomed pussy. But who? I looked from person to person, until I spotted the right woman. “Her.”
“Who?” Riley turned and her gaze followed where I was pointing. “Why her?” she asked, her eyes narrowing once more.
“Because she’s not your type.” I was pointing at a woman not far from us, a woman wearing glasses and a sleek red suit. She was platinum blonde, but her demeanor didn’t scream “ditzy blonde in come-fuck-me heels.” No. She was slim and petite, but her attitude was that of a ball-buster.
“What if she doesn’t go for me?” Riley asked, still looking uncertain. It wasn’t often that she doubted herself, but if anyone could win the red suited-woman, it was Riley with her charms.
“Then I’ll find you another one, but she’s my first choice and if you can’t make it with her, I’ll give you a mulligan.” I picked up my martini glass and raised it to her. “Good luck, stud.”
“Wait.” She looked around the bar. “You need one too, remember? After all, first person to get an ‘I love you’ wins.”
“Ah yes, that is true. Thrill me, darling.”
As I sipped, she surveyed the room and then nodded toward her pick. “Her,” she said. “No questions asked.”
I looked and winced. The woman she indicated looked so damn wholesome, with a long light brown ponytail, a turtleneck, and a corduroy jacket. What the hell was a girl like that doing in an upscale bar like this? She looked like some kind of fresh-faced, just out of college journalist wannabe. Riley knew I wasn’t into cute and innocent, but this girl fit the stereotype to a T.
“She looks like a do-gooder,” I said. “Not to mention a baby journalist. I hate them. They’re so ethical.”
“I know. Have fun.”
I turned back to Riley and narrowed my eyes. “Fine. We date these people. We get them to fall in love with us. But we need stakes. After all, the point of this is to shake up our monotonous routine of non-monogamy.”
“I always like stakes, especially when they involve me winning. What are they?”
“If I win, I get…” I thought about it. What did Riley have that I wanted? “Your house in the Hamptons.”
“Ouch. Really?”
“Really. It’s just a little house and I’m sure your daddy will buy you another one if you ask nicely.”
Riley nodded and drummed her fingers on the bar. “And if I win, I get a night with you when and where I choose.”
“Excuse me?” I straightened in my chair. This was an unexpected twist.
“Well, we used to fuck all the time when we were sixteen, seventeen – right? And then we both moved on and changed over the years. The thing is, I haven’t tasted the new, ripe Alexis, and I’ve been wanting to. So let’s relive some of that adolescent naughtiness and fuck. When I win, of course.”
“Oh my, Riley. You’re dirty.”
She waved it off. “Whatever. The point is...” She leered at me and my heart fluttered just a little. “You’re still the best I ever had, so I want to do you again if I win. Probably more than once.”
Oh yes, that was definitely a quickened heartbeat at her words. Apparently I wanted her to do me again too.
Lifting my glass, I said, “You’re on. Catch me if you can.”
Chapter 2
I snorted with laughter. Catch her if I could? Like that would be difficult. The odds of Alexis swallowing her disdain for romance and getting any woman to profess love to her were zero to none, especially with the cute, innocent Nancy Drew type. Not only would I win the bet, but I’d get some hot best friend action in the end. It was worth romancing some plain Jane to get a taste of Alexis.
Of course, Alexis was right. I had a type – slim, beautiful... and that was it. All my conquests were basically the same Barbie doll woman with a different face. A dime a dozen.
The woman with glasses was not. She wasn't like the heavy metal video vixen that tosses aside her glasses, takes down her long hair from its bun, and bounces around in a studded bustier. She looked much more conservative than that that. Not ugly, but also not a conquest I would brag about later. In my experience, brains rarely meant beauty, and vice versa. But I had always been fine with giving up making an intellectual connection to instead enjoy a hot body and beautiful face. A conquest a woman could brag about later.
Still, a bet was a bet, and when I looked at Alexis, I knew the work was worth it. She was still the woman I held all others to – my standard for beauty. But Alexis was more than that. She, like me, relished living life to the fullest. In addition to being smart, sly, and stylish, she was strong-willed. She didn’t settle for second best in anything she did, which meant this wager would give me something I loved: a challenge. There was nothing more arousing than a woman who could hold her own against me and only one woman could do that – Alexis.
If I lost the bet, she deserved the damn house.
And if I won?
Oh, if I won, the things I would do to her in my apartment. In that house. In every room of that house. For a week, at least, if not longer.
Throwing back the rest of my drink, I turned again to size up my prey.
She was talking to a man shorter than her, her head tilted as she appeared to listen with interest, but I imagined she was being polite. The man, after all, was a squirrelly, obsequious-looking little guy. Alexis would stomp him like a bug if he tried to come onto her, but this woman had a kind expression on her face, not just a tolerant one. Did nice people actually exist in New York City? I doubted it.
I turned to say something to Alexis, but she was already across the room, slinking her way toward the woman I’d chosen for her. Well, she was efficient, I’d give her that.
Squaring my shoulders, I turned back to my target. Make her fall in love with me by Valentine’s Day? Easy. All I had to do was give her the kind of attention no woman like me had ever given her before – a few days, some compliments, and she would be eating out of the palm of my hand. All I had to do was take charge and make her feel desired.
I crossed the floor, moving with ease through the crowd of people in suits and dresses, not caring if I scuffed a designer loafer or two along the way. Most people were smart enough to get out of the way of a woman like me – tall, dressed to the nines, and one of the most famous faces in the magazine world. Those who weren’t smart enough? Fuck ‘em.
“Excuse me,” I said to the woman, interrupting the man speaking to her, “but I couldn’t help but notice the clutch. I thought we had an exclusive on the new Prada.”
Her mouth hung open for a moment and her gaze flicked between me and then the squirrelly man. She had pretty enough hazel eyes. Not the rich brown of Alexis’s, but I could live with looking into them a few times over the next couple of weeks.
The man seemed to realize he was out of his league and didn’t bother to argue with my rude interruption. He sidled away in search of someone else to bore. The woman looked at me and said, “Then you thought wrong.”
“Did I? I’ll have to speak to my style team about that.” I offered my hand. “Riley Cahill. Hearst.”
“Shane Woodward. Condé Nast.”
“Well, shit. I love your name, but what are the odds that we’d find each other like this?” And what were the odds that Alexis would point out someone from a rival media company? The name sparked something in my mind – some glimmer of recognition, but it remained shifty and out of my grasp.
“I’d say they’re quite good, considering we’re on the Upper East Side.” She looked at me from beneath her lashes. Even though she wasn’t particularly attractive, it was an expression that made her look rather fetching, considering. It was also a look that told me there was something I was missing.
“What is it?” I asked.
“You don’t remember me or know who I am?”
“Now, I
would be a complete boor if I didn’t remember you.” I rocked back on my heels, grinning, and then said, “I’m a complete boor, of course.”
“I know you are.”
“But you’re gorgeous, Shane. Has anyone told you that lately?”
The look she gave me could have frozen a lesser woman. “No, they haven’t, and you’re not forgiven, Cahill.”
Fuck. Now I realized Alexis knew exactly what she was doing when she made her wager and chose this woman. She knew who Shane Woodward was. Of course she had to know. After all, the magazine publishing industry was huge, but big names were big names.
I knew I would kick myself later for being that self-absorbed woman who only paid attention to the people actually running the media companies, and not the editors themselves. Shane was, I now recalled, editor-in-chief of one of the most popular women’s magazines in the world.
Oh yes, Alexis knew exactly what she was doing when she made her choice.
But did she know yet that I’d realized what I was doing too?
Chapter 3
I sauntered across the room, but I didn’t use any silly affectations in my walk. As far as I was concerned, if I took my time, that was far sexier than some ridiculous hip shimmy. Both men and women liked to get a good look at me coming and going, after all. If the do-gooder journalist girl was like other women, she’d enjoy watching me just exist.
She needed a haircut, but I supposed running my fingers through that long, sleek light-brown hair wouldn’t be that bad. The fact that she wore a pair of rather shapeless slacks, the turtleneck, and corduroy jacket weren’t a problem. I could take her clothes shopping. And she had that look of someone sweet and sincere. I didn’t respect naiveté, but I would certainly use it to my advantage in this little game.
Even though she didn’t belong with this crowd of the business elite, she didn’t look at all uncomfortable in her surroundings. I decided she was from out of town or brand new here, probably from the Midwest, and simply didn’t know any better. If that was the case, would she even be here until Valentine’s Day? Would I have time to get her to fall in love with me? Well, there was only one way to find out.
