by Ellie Jean
Copyright © 2020 by Ellie Jean
All rights reserved.
Editor: Ellie McLove—My Brother’s Editor, www.mybrotherseditor.net
Formatting/ Book Cover: Stacey Blake—Champagne Book Design
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Visit my webpage at ellie-jean.wixsite.com/author
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or places is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced throughout this work of fiction, which has been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
WARNING: The book is recommended for readers aged 18+. Please do not read if sexual situations, violence, and explicit language offend you.
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT
NOTE
DEDICATION
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
EPILOGUE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
STAY UP TO DATE
OTHER BOOKS
NOTE
Merciless King is a standalone story inspired by Vi Keeland and Penelope Ward’s Playboy Pilot.
It’s published as part of the Cocky Hero Club world, a series of original works, written by various authors, and inspired by Keeland and Ward’s New York Times bestselling series.
If you’re plowing through adversities, keep going. Take it one step at a time, keep the bigger picture in sight and never give up on your dreams.
Chuck
Air rapidly leaves my lungs.
Heaving in and out, my chest deflates and expands. Toxins escape, scorching the inside of my throat, and my vision blurs.
Every square inch of skin is covered in sweat, burning as drops of red liquid trickle over my slickened torso and cheek. My limbs heavy and hanging.
But it’s all worth it. And I’m still standing.
It’s what I live for or some would say, die for.
“Tonight’s winner by knockout is Chuck Sansone.” The announcer’s deep voice booms through the arena. My arm’s raised above my head as I spear my deadly eyes into the darkened crowd begging anyone to tell me that I am not ready to take on the heavyweight title.
Fighting my entire life, it’s inevitable that I would end up here. Mom once said, actually, she said it about a hundred times, I need to channel my anger and energy into positive actions, something that would make me happy instead of hurting others.
I didn’t listen. I couldn’t. Rage flowed through my veins like surges of water in a waterfall. Constant, always trickling and at times turbulent.
Enrolling me into boxing at the age of fourteen, she’d finally had enough of trying to get me to play football or baseball. Being called to the principal’s office almost on a weekly basis wore her down and only made me more furious because I was hurting the one person who truly believed in me, over and over again.
The cheering noise from the crowd pulls me back to the enormity of what I’ve done here tonight. There’re no questions.
No uncertainty.
Winner by knockout. Like the past five fights.
Undefeated.
Casting my eyes across the mass of spectators, my inner demons are quietened for a split moment as the cameras fire their blinding light. Catching my attention in the front row is Roy Wilders’ promoter. I hope he enjoys being the current heavyweight champion’s shoulder to cry on when I annihilate him. It’s about time the fuckers in the World Boxing Council took my request seriously. For two years, I’ve tried to organize a fight with the number one in the world, but it landed on deaf ears. This time, they can’t ignore it. Beating the former champion by knockout in the fifth round and being undefeated, I will get that fight. And soon.
“You ready, champ?”
Turning my menacing glare back to my long-time friend Andre, I lift my chin and glower at the competition and crowd one last time.
“Yeah.” My chest slows pace, but my hands throb through my gloves. Nothing or no one can take this euphoric feeling away from me. A towel is placed around my neck and the chanting erupts one final time as we walk back through the arena.
“You got the crowd riled up tonight, beating one of New York’s, fuck, the world’s, favorites.” Andre’s hand stays firmly on the back of my shoulder. My team crowds around us.
“They wanted a show, I gave it to them. Crushed him so they have to take me seriously now.” A spring still evident in my step going into the locker room, the coolness of the air hits my face, heat blazing from my wounds. “When I ask for that fight, I expect to get it now. No more bullshit,” I rage.
“There’s no doubt in anyone’s mind after tonight, you’re going to fight Roy before the end of the year.”
“I want it in two months.” Holding out my hands in the locker room, Don starts to unravel the ties of my gloves. “I won’t wait any longer to have the title that belongs to me.”
From behind me, a gruff voice makes my head turn. “Don’t think it’s gonna happen.”
My muscles clench, evolving into a smirk when I see who has entered my private room.
Asshole.
“Unless you know the right people.”
My eyebrows raise at my part-time boss for my day job, Dexter Truitt. He should be on the cover of magazines for his good looks, not because of his wealth. Black hair and dark eyes. He has that smoldering look going on that women flock over. We get along well even though he’s my boss. He’s a down-to-earth guy, with a good heart.
“And I’m guessing you’re that right person?” I raise my eyebrows in question.
Don cuts the bandages from my knuckles, the men in my team continue packing up while Andre and I listen. “I didn’t realize you liked fights. I would have set you up with some tickets.”
Stepping farther in, I hold out my hand and shake his.
“I’ve been watching you, Chuck.”
“That doesn’t sound creepy at all,” I joke.
Chuckling, he says, “It happens I went to your fight a year back and I’ve been following your fights since. You’re determined, intense, passionate, and a fucking brilliant fighter. You’ve got what it takes to win, everyone can see that.” Leaning against the counter, his immaculate dark suit screams of wealth. “What I want to know is why hasn’t someone from your team got that world title fight for you yet?”
I’d be lying if the same damn thought hadn’t crossed my mind a million times over the past few years.
Nizo picks that moment to round the corner and stare at Dex. “He hasn�
��t been ready. No one I train will go into the ring unprepared.”
Rolling my eyes at the sixty-year-old man, I want to push my fist in his face so badly. But I won’t. I know his concern is genuine.
“We will all convene during the week and work out where to from here, right Chuck?” Sal, my gray-haired agent who has been with me from the start, looks across to Nizo. They share a glance before both sets of eyes penetrate Dex. “We won’t be needing your help, Mr. Truitt.”
Dexter stands solid and stares at them both. Power rolls off his shoulders.
“I’d say that’s up to Chuck to decide. You guys had your time. I’m here to help. In any capacity.” Looking back to me, Dex is fired up. “You deserve to be champion.”
Rubbing my bare hands together, the warmth of my body is evaporating. I need a fucking long shower and some beers to celebrate. “Sal and Nizo, I’ll be having the final say on what I’m doing.” I reach for Dexter’s hand, shaking it. “Thanks, man, for believing in me.” He can’t know what that alone means. “Can we talk about this more when I’m in at Montague Enterprises on Tuesday?”
“I expect to see you at ten in my office, unless of course a maintenance issue, like a stuck elevator occurs.” Both of us smile, remembering the incident with him being stuck in it with his now beautiful wife Bianca.
“You never know when that could occur and the consequences, eh?”
What he doesn’t know is I could have had him out in a few minutes. But the ridiculousness of Bianca not knowing who she was talking to fucking made me laugh. And then Dex pretending to be a delivery guy, not the owner of a company worth millions was so worth keeping them in their longer.
Raising his eyebrows with humor, he turns to scan the men in the room, morphing his features back into a scowl. With a chin lift, he opens the door to let himself out.
“I’ll be there at ten.” Lifting the bottle of water to my mouth, I slam it back. He’s fucking right. My shot at the title should have happened months ago. Why haven’t I questioned it more?
Andre grimaces at me, and the elation of the past twenty minutes has evaporated.
“I’m fucking taking a shower then going out to celebrate my victory.” Striding to the showers, I rip my clothes off. “I’m making this happen, with or without you guys.” Banging the door, I rest my forehead on the concrete tiles while the water falls over my skin. Red liquid flows down the drain washing away the small smear showing I’m actually human and not some type of robot doing as I’m told.
It’s my time and no one’s going to fuck it up for me.
“Why do you think the very people who are supposed to have my back are against me fighting for the title?” On my third Peroni, I don’t usually have more than two after a fight, but tonight’s different. On edge after the conversation with my boss, I’m mentally beating myself up for not questioning the team earlier.
Andre casually places his beer on the dark stained wooden table and shrugs. “I have no fucking clue.”
“They’re just trying to protect you.” Cristo tips back his gin and looks to Andre for support.
“Fuck. You guys don’t think I can win either?” My heart thumps in my head louder now than when I was fighting. “If two of my closest and longest standing friends don’t think I can win, what fucking hope do I have?” Swallowing my beer, I motion for the bartender to bring me another. Drowning out anything but the loud jukebox music, I close my eyes and clench my jaw.
“We know you can win.” Andre is one of the few who can talk me around. “But Roy Wilders is one hell of an opponent. Every skill, every move, every punch needs to be perfect or he will tear your ass up.”
Ignoring his comment, my eyes take in the run-down interior of Wild Donkeys Saloon. A red haze casts over the worn dark timber, brightened by the small lights dangling from the ceiling, racks of alcohol hang from the shelves behind the bar, the seats’ leather is still intact, albeit worn in patches. It’s small, unknown and a place we frequent after each fight. Porter behind the bar keeps the drinks flowing, usually I don’t indulge but tonight’s different.
“Did anyone notice the look Sal gave Nizo? And the weirdness of the other guys when Dexter entered?” Raising my eyebrows toward a blonde-haired beauty sitting alone at the bar, I wait for a response from the guys. Her cute little pink mouth smirks but she plays coy, looking away.
“No. I was too busy checking out that guy’s suit. How fucking rich is he?” Cristo pours himself another gin.
“I’d say he won’t be running out of cash anytime soon.” Listening to the people I trust the most, my eyes stay on the bombshell. Encased in a bright pink top pulling her waist in perfectly, dipping at the front showcasing her succulent breasts. Not stopping, my eyes travel down her legs and see they are covered in tight fitting black jeans. How fucking long are her legs?
“He’s the CEO of the company Chuck works at, isn’t he?”
Blocking them out, I lift my chin and catch her doing the exact same to me.
Fuck me.
This wasn’t on tonight’s agenda.
My jeans tighten as my cock wants to see what all the fuss is about.
Taking a few mouthfuls of my beer, she does the same to her drink, except she licks her fucking lips taunting me after she empties her milky concoction.
Long fingers with gloss pink nails hold the martini style glass until she places it down and uncrosses her legs to get up.
She’s not getting away that easily after that display.
Without taking my stare from her, I stand. “Night, boys.”
I know where I’m heading tonight.
Chuck
A brain surgeon couldn’t examine a patient’s brain any more thoroughly than I am studying this woman’s delicious body and delicate face. Her pale blue eyes, framed by black long lashes against her light skin intrigues me. Her blonde long hair is straight, hanging loose around her long neck and beyond her squared shoulders. Delicious pink lips shine as she licks her lips. My feet lift a little quicker, striding toward her. Blood pumps rapidly through my veins for the third time tonight.
Moving her legs from her high stool, she exudes grace and poise. Our eyes never leave each other’s.
Reaching out my arm, I firmly plant it on the bar in front of her body.
“Leaving so soon?” Cocking my head to the side, I hope she is ready for a long night.
“Not much happening here tonight.” A strong, clear voice flows to my ears.
Leaning toward her body, invading her personal space, the scent of green apple envelops me. I give her credit, she doesn’t even flutter one of her delicious eyelashes. Her chest rises and drops faster though.
Feigning shock, I lift my hand to my heart. “What do you call me?”
Her eyes rake up and down over my body. “A distraction.”
“A good or a bad one?” Raising my eyebrows at her, I don’t take my eyes off her cheeky blue ones.
“Hmmm. That, I cannot answer right now.”
Both of us are standing, neither of us willing to let the other get away.
“You know, I could help you decide.” Circling my finger around the rim of her martini glass, I place my finger in my mouth and suck off the espresso martini I presume was in the glass. A slight hitch of her breath, making her boobs raise marginally above her tight corset tells me I’m having the desired effect on her.
“Could you now?” A smile spreads across her face, brightening her eyes along with it. “I must confess, you have me curious.”
I have her fucking more than curious, judging by her legs clamped together. I hope she’s imagining how good I am going to make her feel. Holding out my slightly swollen hand, she places her slender one in mine. Lifting it to my lips, I introduce myself. “I’m Chuck. And you are a welcoming vision here in this dull bar tonight.”
A genuine smile tugs at her lips again. “Why thank you.” Her silky skin caresses my calloused hands. “Chuck, you’re certainly pulling out all of the lines tonight.”
“You haven’t seen anything. I have so much more.”
“Hmmm.” Looking straight at my cock, she raises her eyebrows and adds, “I bet you do.”
Grinning, I keep forging ahead. “Can you tell me, did it hurt? When you fell out of heaven?”
Her smile widens on her face, watching me make a fool of myself.
“Did you just smile or did the sun come out?” My hand lingers on hers and her body relaxes more. “Are you a magician? Because when I look at you, everything else disappears.”
“Did you get these from cheesy pickup lines 101?” Laughing together, her smile lights up the entire bar.
“I only speak the truth. My friends can vouch for me. I’m not one to blow smoke up one’s ass. You, lovely lady, have brightened my night. I hope you let me brighten yours… um…?”
She whispers, “Carol. Umm… Caroline.”
Leaving her hand in mine, I search for what she’s thinking. She doesn’t strike me as the type to whisper about anything. Her strong stance contradicts her soft voice.
“Caroline.” Testing her name on my tongue, it sounds perfect. “Would you like another drink or can I take you somewhere more private to keep you entertained?”
“You are entertaining. I’ll give you that. The magician one is a new one.”
“I have many more I could charm you with.”
“As much as I’d love to hear them…” Her eyes float back over my body and I do the same to hers, her tight top messing with my head and my cock. It’s bursting to see how delicious her pussy is. “I’m curious about your non-verbal attributes.”
“You took the words right out of my mouth.” Feasting on each other publicly is driving me insane. “Ready for something to replace them.”
Her eyes brighten, if that’s even possible. Her head tilts to the side as though she is thinking it over. But I know I’ve already sealed our deal for tonight.
“On one condition we can go somewhere private.” She reaches into her bag and pulls out some keys, bending over so I have an ample view of her beauty. Flirting more and making it impossible to look away. She could ask me anything in that moment and I would agree to it.
