Big Bad Wolf: A Bad Boy Next Door Second Chance Romance

by Frankie Love

  I cut him off. “Sex, yes, but not sleaze. My place is classy, right?” I ask my friends.

  They shrug, apparently not knowing the difference between the two. Fuck, maybe I don't either.

  Stacy steps in, smiling at me. “Look Ace, Spades Royalle is special. It has an exclusive feel that no other casino in Vegas offers. I'm not sure what Grotto's plans are, but let me ask around, see what I can dig up.

  “And in the meantime, I can move forward with paperwork, and just leave the parts blank you aren't ready to commit to. In a week though, I'm going to need to know your plans so I can submit this offer.”

  “Sounds good,” I say, grateful for her cooperation.

  A few days later, the guys and I meet up at Spades to discuss the meeting with the real estate agent. McQueen has a show tonight, Jack does, too. Landon will be playing at a table he reserved with some of the other high-rollers, and me … well. I'm acting like the Boss I am.

  We sit in the whiskey bar, commanding the room.

  “So what are your big ideas, Ace?” Jack asks. “You heard Stacy. She wasn't joking.”

  “Yeah, and what the fuck, bro?” McQueen asks. “You want us to money up but you don't know what for? Don't you need a business plan?”

  “You're right. I just saw this property so close to the strip—which is never available—and wanted to pounce. Same thing as when I found the listing for what I turned into Spades Royalle. It was a shitty place before I renovated it.”

  “Time isn't on our side, though,” Landon says pessimistically.

  “I say we build a strip club. People love those. And there are never enough of them in Vegas. Hell, I'll star in the show.”

  “You already star in a stripper show,” Jack says, laughing.

  “Spank You is classy,” McQueen says defensively. He's right, of course—no trashy stripper routine is gonna fly in my casino. But Spank You is an all-male revue … so the likelihood of Jack or Landon ever actually seeing McQueen perform is slim to none.

  I haven't seen him either. I have a manager to do the hiring for that one.

  “So you jackasses think Vegas wants another strip club?” I ask, taking a sip of my aged whiskey.

  “Why the hell not?” Jack asks. “We'll make it classy like the shit at this hotel, but more bare pussies and big tits. Truth is, I think I need more strippers in my life. Ashley was way too insecure to ever let me go to a club like that.”

  “That's because Ashley was a bitch,” Landon says.

  “Hey, talk nice about her,” McQueen says, defending the singing sensation who was Jack's longtime girlfriend.

  “To be fair,” Jack says. “She also picked out my clothes if we were going out and refused to let me pee without shutting the door.”

  “See,” Landon says. “She was a bitch.”

  I'm laughing with the guys when out of the corner of my eye I see Emmy.

  I watch her cross the casino floor, a tray in her hand, her feet in those high-ass heels, her thonged cheeks covered in fishnets, the pleather of her uniform pushing her tits up to perfection.

  I haven't seen her in days. I swear I get a hard on and she hasn't even looked in my direction.

  “Hey, is that your girl?” McQueen says.

  Jack punches him in the shoulder.

  “What?” McQueen asks. “Just because she kicked you out of her apartment doesn't mean she doesn't still want you.”

  “It kind of does,” Jack says. “Which is reason number eighty-nine that you've never had a long term relationship.”

  “Like any of us asses, have besides you,” Landon says truthfully.

  “That's gonna change,” I say, standing up.

  My friends laugh. “What's that mean?” Jack asks. “You just gonna go up to her and force her to be your woman?”

  “No, I'm gonna go up to her and remind her why she shouldn't have walked away.”

  EMMY

  I feel his eyes following me as I cut through the casino floor. I know he's just now noticed I’m here, but I've been watching him move around the place since he walked in an hour ago.

  I swear to God my heart is connected to his. Being near him causes my pulse to quicken, and the longing I want to ignore to rise to the surface.

  It’s been one hell of a week.

  Tomorrow Janie will be taken off life support.

  I should be with her now … but I was so tired, so exhausted at being alone in that room, with no one to talk to.

  Sure, Claire and Tess have generously sat with me, brought me In-N-Out and Starbucks. They've sat with Janie so I could go home and shower, sat with her so I could cry alone in the chapel, praying to a god I have no faith in. A god I've never believed in.

  But I don't want to be alone tonight. I'm tired of crying, tired of sitting in a sterile room. I need to do something. So tonight, I came to work. But my mind isn't on this job. My mind is on the fact it is my sister’s last night on Earth.

  And when I decided to come I wasn't even thinking of Ace. Because yeah, he ripped my heart out when he told me he had known my sister, but he isn't my sole reason for living.

  Not that I have any clue what is.

  “Emmy, stop,” Ace calls out to me.

  I keep walking.

  “Emmy Rose, wait,” he calls again.

  I stop.

  Maybe it's because he calls me Emmy Rose, my name falling off his lips so effortlessly, like he’s made to speak my name. Or maybe it’s because I'm so damn tired and confused. Maybe it's because the last time I was lost I fell into the comfort of his arms, and I feel lost again right now.

  Last time he held me and I now … now I just need to hold on for dear life.

  “Emmy,” he says once more, coming to a stop at the heels of my feet. He doesn't hide the fact he wants me. Me, his employee. Him, the most powerful man in this casino. He doesn't pretend there isn't something between us—the thing I’ve been pretending all week doesn't exist.

  He comes up behind me and wraps an arm around my waist. He pushes the hair from my neck and growls in my ear.

  “Don't tell me to leave. Don't tell me that ever again.”

  “Okay,” I whisper, my chest heaving, my entire body tingling under his tight hold. I nearly drop my tray with the one hand I use to balance it. My other hand grips his forearm tightly; I don't want to let go. He’s keeping me steady, grounded in a way I wish he couldn’t.

  But he does.

  Oh, fuck me, he does. I feel the way he grounds me by the hardness in his pants, the hardness pressed up against my ass.

  I like that when I’m in these heels we’re the same height. It gives me the advantage right now, to feel what his body really wants.

  It wants what I want.

  He loosens his grip and then grabs the tray of drinks. He sets it down on a table absently, not caring that he’s just screwed up the game some players were betting on. He doesn't see anything because he only has eyes for me.

  He takes my hand, holds it so tight. Leading me across the floor, the one I’ve memorized as I’ve worked this room to death for two months straight. I pass Tess, and her eyes bulge out her sockets.

  I smile, sheepishly. All week, she's heard the reasons why Ace and I are bad news. She's listened to me berate his cockiness and his insensitivity and his absolute womanizing behavior.

  But I know I wear my heart on my sleeve, and for all the mean things I've called Ace this week, I've also whispered his name in my sleep.

  And I know my friends have heard the utterances, because they have called me out on it.

  I've denied it. Over and over again.

  Because who am I to think of this man when my sister is close to death?

  Ace pulls me down a long hall, to the elevator bank he's led me to before.

  When we enter the elevator, he pulls his signature move and calls the operator, telling him to make the car stop.

  It reminds me—his quick words that create a response—how powerful he is.

  How quickly
he can crush me.

  How quickly he did, last week.

  The elevator is lined with mirrors. I see Ace from a million different angles, and in each one he looks like a different man.

  In one he is bruised, in another battered—he is soulful, commanding, a killer, a lover.

  He is so many things.

  He is a monster.

  He is mine.

  ACE

  We stand in the elevator, a few feet apart. We aren't touching; we're face-to-face, shoulders back. Debating the next move as we stand on this fucking black-and-white tiled floor. We're playing a real life chess game, and I know my next move.

  This woman is my fucking Queen.

  Emmy breathes so heavily, seemingly not as sure as me. I watch as she looks in the mirrors around us, as if trying to see me for what I really am.

  I never want anyone to see the real me, because they might see Adrian Genova. The man I admitted to my best friends I really was.

  I still haven't told Emmy the truth, and now isn't the right time. We don't need to reveal all the secrets we hold tight; we just need to come to some sort of understanding.

  Because I can't lose her again.

  I was a goddamned fool, an arrogant ass, for doing what she told me to do—walking away. She doesn't really want me gone.

  She's the same woman I met a few weeks ago—the woman trying to be strong, not allowing herself to have what she really wants, what she really desires. She'd denied herself my pleasure the first time we'd met in the hallway, and she did it again in her apartment.

  I should have learned my lesson sooner.

  Emmy isn't playing a game of tag. Emmy isn't looking to be chased.

  Emmy needs to be told there’s a reason to stay. She needs the promise of more. The promise of fucking forever.

  She needs to be put in check.

  Checkmate.

  “Emmy, I fucking love you.”

  “Shush.” She shakes her head. Her eyes have filled with tears at the single sentence I spoke. “Don't say that to me.”

  “Why not?” I ask, stepping toward her, the distance between us now gone. “I do. I fucking love you, Emmy Rose.”

  “That isn't true,” she whispers. “You don't know me.”

  “I know enough.”

  A tear falls down her soft cheek, and I press my hand on her cheek, wipe the tear away with my thumb.

  “No, Ace, I don't know who you are … and I'm scared that the person I think you might be is the person I should hate the most.”

  “Don't hate me when you don't know the whole story.”

  “Will the whole story change the fact that my sister is being taken off life support tomorrow?”

  My heart stops. They’re taking Janie off life support? I should have gone to the hospital. I should have done something. I was so focused on this deal with Grotto, on the desire to fuck Emmy—that I hadn't thought about her sister.

  I am such a fucking arrogant prick.

  “Are you sure?” I ask, another stupid question.

  She gives me a sharp laugh, but doesn't pull from my hand. Call me crazy, but it's almost as if she is nuzzling against me, leaning into my palm.

  I goddamned knew it. This woman wants the protection I can offer.

  “I'm sure, Ace. And you say you had no part in it. Okay. I have to believe you—because I told the detective and he didn't care. He didn't call you in for questioning, did he?” she asks. Her tone isn't angry; it’s just tired.

  “I didn't get called into questioning,” I tell her, realizing I have information she might not have. “I haven't heard a fucking thing—but Grotto, that ass who killed the PI, the man who called me Bullet at the club—he is getting called in.”

  “Really?” Emmy asks. She steps back from me, as if wanting to see my reaction more clearly. “What does he have to do with any of this?”

  “The hell if I know. But then again, I'm not the monster you say I am. I knew Janie, met her once. But that was because I was going to hire her.”

  “To work here?” Emmy asks, shaking her head. “Was she a waitress?”

  “She never ended up working here, Emmy.”

  “I don't follow, and why do you make house calls for employees?”

  I know this next part will be hard for Emmy to hear, but she deserves the truth.

  “She was hired to be an escort.”

  “For you?” Her eyes grow wide.

  “No … not for me. But the company she was going to work for is contracted with us.”

  “And you came to her place because?”

  “Because we test all the girls out that way. Make sure they show up, do as they are told. A trial run, so to speak. A lot of men in Vegas use escorts, and if my brand is going to be connected with any company, I want to be sure we’re sending out high-end products.”

  Emmy shakes her head, takes another step back.

  “Did you just call my sister, the one dying in twelve hours, a high-end product?”

  “Actually, no.” I snort, frustrated at this line of questioning. “I met Janie a week before the crash, if I have my dates right. And after the trial run, I told her boss she wasn't up to par.”

  “Ohmigod, Ace, you did not just say that.”

  “Would you rather I lie to you?” I ask, my voice loud, because now I am getting fucking pissed. “I thought that was the problem, you not trusting me. Now you can. Now you know I wasn't the monster driving the car.” I'm yelling now, and it’s pushing Emmy away, but now I’m fired up and I’m not stopping until she knows the absolute truth.

  “Okay, then, I believe you. If Grotto is getting called in for questioning … maybe it was him. I don't know. I don't know anything,” she cries, her hands splayed in front of her, confusion written over every inch of her skin. “I thought I did, but then every time I see you … you make everything I think I know … blurred.”

  “Then let me clear it up, Emmy Rose,” I say, my voice cutting and clear. “I never fucked your sister. I wouldn't have touched her with a ten-foot pole. She wasn’t the kind of girl I'd have hired to clean my fucking toilets, let alone touch my motherfucking cock.”

  Emmy slaps me across the face, so hard it stings. She slaps me with the sort of strength I knew she possessed, the sort of strength I'd like to see more of.

  The sort of strength that only exists because she has been refined by the fire—the fire she has inside her because she was born from a place of addicts and no money, and broken homes and broken dreams. She came from something burning to the ground, but this woman has risen from the motherfucking ash.

  She's a phoenix rising and she's beautiful when she flies.

  I pin her to the elevator wall, her arms above her head, her eyes alive, her eyes on mine.

  She can't move. She doesn't want to.

  All Emmy Rose wants is me.

  “I told you I love you and I motherfucking meant it.”

  I kiss her hard, sealing myself to her mouth, her heart. I kiss her hard and seal myself to her goddamned soul.

  EMMY

  I left the elevator after he kissed me. My entire world broken and alive.

  He kissed me and told me he loved me, and I believe it.

  When his lips pressed against mine it was as if a flood of truth washed over me.

  Janie is dying, and that’s tragic and incomparable.

  But maybe her death is allowing something else to be brought to life.

  Maybe her death will allow Ace and I to live.

  Is that crazy? Is it the flawed logic of a lonely girl grasping for sense in a screwed-up world?

  I don't know and I don't care, because right now I need something that makes sense.

  I change out of my uniform in the locker room, pull on my leggings and my flats. Yank on a tank top and a jean jacket. I shove my fishnets and pleather in my tote bag and get the hell out of here.

  I'll see Ace again. Of course I will, because he’s all I have left.

  I leave Spades Royalle and get
a cab for the hospital.

  Ace offered to come with, so I wouldn’t be alone. But I told him no. I see texts from Claire and Tess, asking WTF is going on—apparently word travels fast—and asking if I need their support. But I dash off a message saying thanks but no thanks.

  Right now I need to be alone so I can say good-bye to the person who has known me longest in the world. So I can say good-bye to the story I wanted to be mine and Janie's … pages of redemption and happily-ever-afters.

  That won't be our story … but maybe—just maybe—it will be Ace's and mine.

  I've never been the sort of person who believed in Go—shit, I was in the chapel this week wondering where the angels were, where the Saints had gone—but maybe there is a God.

  Maybe he's been looking out for me, making sure I won't have to be alone. Maybe Ace came into my life at the perfect moment. Maybe he arrived when Janie was leaving so I would never be truly alone in this world.

  I get to the hospital, check in with the nurses and take my seat beside my sister.

  I hold her hand all night. I don't let go because soon enough I'll be forced to walk away.

  I wake up and wipe the drool from my face as nurses begin shuffling into the room.

  “Sorry, sweetie, we know this is hard. Impossible, really. The doctor will be here soon.”

  I don't look up at them; my eyes are on my sister. I sweep her dark hair from her face and memorize it for the thousandth time this week. I don't want to forget anything about her.

  The nurses scuttle back and forth, I don't ask questions because everything will end soon enough. I don't need to know the details of her death.

  The bustling stops for a moment as the nurses leave to get something from another room and in a moment of quiet, I take Janie's unmoving hands, and kiss the tops of them tenderly, knowing I want to say my last words in private.

  Whispering words I can't believe are my truth, I say to her, “I don't want you to worry about me. You've hung on long enough. Of course I want more time with you, I'd give anything to have it. But I'm going to be okay with you gone, Janie. Ace came into my life … somehow at the perfect moment. And I don't want to trade you for him, but it feels like that is what is happening.”