His final words to me could either make it worse or make it better. Either way, I needed to hear from him.
Turning the envelope over, I slid my finger under the flap and tore it open, pulling out a yellow piece of paper.
My fingers stung from the cold as I unfolded the paper and stared down at more of Clive’s handwriting, without comprehending the words.
Finally, I settled on the first sentence …
To my one and only son,
You brought purpose to my lonely life. I know you think you’re a black spot on this Earth, but what you don’t realize is you shined a lot of light on all the dark places in my life. Thank you for giving me something to smile about before I left this world.
Now, don’t you be a stubborn ass like me and turn this opportunity down. I firmly believe you came into my life for a reason, and it was so that I could have someone to remember me when I’m gone. So I could have someone to leave my legacy to.
Take it. Enjoy it. And when you find your Shelby Mustang, you hold on for dear life and spoil the hell out of her.
I love you, son.
LIVE.
My breath rushed from my body, leaving me breathless and weak.
For the past year, I had convinced myself that Clive had made the biggest mistake of his life by leaving everything to me. Clearly, he hadn’t been in the right frame of mind because if he had, he would have known better.
But after reading his words, I felt like I could do it. For the first time since he left me, I felt like it was possible. From the very beginning, Clive had seen something in me that I hadn’t, and it was time I proved him right.
I would build what he left behind and make it everything he ever dreamed I would and more. But first, there would be some changes.
For starters, I was no longer the boy I had once been. I had been groomed by the darkness of life—changed and formed by evil—landing in the shadows of a past I never wanted to look back on.
Sebastian Stephens would always live there … in the shadows.
But I couldn’t be him anymore.
I needed to get away from that name—that life—those memories.
Sebastian Stephens was no more. The darkness had taken him completely, leaving everything black.
Sebastian Black.
THIRTY-ONE
Two Years Later
SCHEDULED TO OPEN IN UNDER A MONTH, I stood staring up at my nightclub’s building and its unique architecture, taking a minute to grasp what I had accomplished in the past eight months.
Construction inside was nearing an end; all employees had been hired, thanks to Vick, and I’d finally chosen a head chef and bar manager.
Vick handled all my employee communication. She had become my right hand in all things since the night I had found her selling her ass on the streets, and honestly, I couldn’t imagine the club opening and running smoothly without her.
I would never tell her that, though.
So much had changed in my life over the past three years, and finally taking it all in left me feeling proud of what I was able to create.
It was more than what I built—more than the money I had managed to triple—it was the changes in myself. I was no longer lost—no longer visibly broken. I was no longer a nothing.
I was molded and changed thanks to my past and thanks to Clive. The power I held was addicting, and I held strong to it—making myself someone—making myself irreplaceable to a lot of people.
There wasn’t a soul in the city who didn’t seek my respect, and that kind of power was raw and inviting … consuming. I instilled fear in the hearts of people, making sure no one ever tried to mark me, and so the name Black spread, and Sebastian Stephens ceased to exist.
“What are you doing standing out here?” Vick asked, coming up behind me.
She had changed as well. Becoming colder and stronger—only allowing me inside her brain—she broke the bones and hearts of many a man.
“I’m admiring the sign.”
She stood next to me, her shoulder bumping into mine. “It looks good.”
“Yes, it does.” I shoved my hands in the pockets of my expensive suit.
It had been cut specifically for me as were all my clothes.
“Clive’s is going to be the hottest club in the city, just you wait.”
Her words were true.
I would make it so.
“I have no doubt.”
And I didn’t.
Clive’s, the club I was opening, was much more than my accomplishment. It was Clive’s dream, his legacy. If it weren’t for him, I would have nothing … be nothing. I would make the club a success if it was the last thing I did.
“Are you coming in any time soon?” Vick asked.
“No. I have something to do first.”
“Are you going to tell me what that is?”
“No.”
“Didn’t think so. I’ll see you later, then?”
I nodded, rocking back on the heels of my expensive leather shoes.
“Yes. Make sure to send that envelope to David’s office, okay?”
“You never said what’s in it.”
“And I don’t plan to. Send it,” I demanded.
“Whatever you want, boss.”
“I’ll be back. Have Martin bring the car around?”
“Will do.”
“One more thing … make sure the movers deliver those boxes from the old apartment to here. All except the one box marked office stuff can go into the new apartment.”
“I’ll send them over there now. They’ll be here by the time you get back.”
And then she was gone, her heeled boots clicking into the night.
Minutes later, Martin pulled the car in front of me and got out to open my door. I disappeared behind the tinted windows and watched the city go by as he drove to my destination.
Thirty minutes later, we were across the city in another time, another life. We pulled through the gates of the cemetery and alongside the grave I hadn’t visited in a long time. The guilt never fully went away, but I could keep it under control when I paid my respects.
Getting out of the car, I made my way toward their headstone. They were side by side, together in life as well as in death. Wilted flowers dotted the top of their plot, and judging by their state of decay, I knew it had been a while since she had been there, too.
Thinking about her—about them, the children I had left orphaned—tugged at the knot in the pit of my stomach that I knew would forever grow and fester.
I didn’t show emotion anymore, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there, tucked just behind the beating organ that metaphorically felt all things.
Kneeling, I plucked the dead flowers from the grass and set them down next to my feet. The fresh wildflowers I had brought with me fell from my fingers and filled the metal vase at the base of their headstone.
Visiting them always reminded me I would never fully be rid of my past sins. No matter how much success I had or how big Clive’s would become, I could never really be completely happy.
I didn’t deserve it.
Their daughter and son would never know happiness because of me. It was only fair, since I had made my bed all those years ago, that destroying their family would haunt me until I died.
Being around Vick only stirred those feelings. I wasn’t even sure being around her was something I would be able to do and still look at myself in the mirror the next day, but seeing her and what had become of her, I knew I couldn’t turn my back on her.
Part of me felt like if I could save her … I could save them. As idiotic as it sounded.
Vick was my responsibility now. As long as I kept my eye on her, she could never hurt anyone again. As long as I knew where she was and what she was into, I was keeping her and everyone in her path safe.
If her hands were clean, then so were mine.
Just because there was no fixing me didn’t mean I couldn’t at least try to fix her.
I stared long a
nd hard at the graves, knowing it would be the last time I would come and visit for a long while. She was getting older, and the risk of running into her was too great. I would have no way to explain why I was there or how I knew her parents. Part of me wondered if I would be able to hold in the truth about what I had done if I ever did see her and look her in the eyes.
Thankfully, I had only seen her from afar.
I turned when I heard the vehicles approaching behind me. My heart gave a hard pound against my chest, but I could breathe easy when I realized it was a procession for another funeral. Car after car passed, blocking me in as they made their way to say their final goodbye to their loved one.
It would be a while before I was able to get out of there, but that was fine. I had one more stop.
I walked across the cemetery until I was standing in front of Clive’s grave. I hadn’t been to see him in a while, but I knew he wouldn’t be upset with me. It was with good reason.
“It’s almost finished, Clive,” I said, kneeling over his marble headstone. “I think you’d like it.” I smirked. “No, I think you’d love it. It’s … our legacy, old man.”
Once the procession cleared, I went back to the car and gave Martin directions.
The club.
When I arrived, the box I had been waiting for was in my office perched on top of my desk. Pulling it open, I sifted through to make sure everything was there. Pulling out a stack of folders, I watched as two things fell from the pile. One landed on my desk, the other at my feet.
Picking up the piece of paper on my desk, I recognized a date scribbled on the back in Clive’s handwriting. Flipping it around, I stared down at the picture. It was old and worn, the corners bent and torn. Faded lines splintered out, distorting the picture some but not enough that I couldn’t make it out.
Clive stood in front of Mike’s with a smile plastered on his face. By the looks of the place, Mike’s had just opened. Seeing this picture was bittersweet, knowing that Mike’s was no more. I had sold it to a lady who planned on turning the place into a yoga studio. A place like that wouldn’t do well in that kind of neighborhood, but a sale was a sale.
Bending over, I opened the bottom drawer of my desk and put the picture inside. Shutting the drawer, I saw my little black book on the floor. A smile tugged at my lips as I bent to pick it up. Sitting in my chair, I flipped through the pages. I had only begun to fill it before Clive got sick.
A light tap sounded on my door before the door opened and Vick walked in. She sat on the other side of my desk.
“I see you got the box.”
“Yes, I did.”
She leaned forward in the chair, and her brows pulled together as she eyed my fingers.
“What the hell is that?”
“My little black book,” I said simply.
“Your little black what?”
I flipped the book across the desk, and it slid before she caught it. She opened it to the first page, and her eyes moved over the words. She flipped through the empty pages before stopping on the last one. She stared at the name I knew was written there before closing it and tossing it back at me.
“So it’s a fuck book?”
I smirked. “More or less.”
“Cartoon characters? Isn’t that a little childish?”
I shrugged. “It’s my thing. Fuck off.”
“So who’s Jessica Rabbit?”
I stared at her for a moment before getting up and standing in front of the window that looked down over my new nightclub.
“I don’t know yet, but maybe someday I’ll find her. Until then, I think it’s time I start filling up the rest of those pages.”
KEEP READING FOR THE FIRST THREE CHAPTERS OF TABATHA AND MELISSA’S NEWEST RELEASE, HEARTBREAK FOR HIRE!
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Tabatha Vargo & Melissa Andrea
HEARTBREAK FOR HIRE
Copyright © 2018 by Tabatha Vargo & Melissa Andrea
All Rights Reserved. Printed in the United States of America.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events or real people are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
HEARTBREAK FOR HIRE/ Tabatha Vargo & Melissa Andrea
Cover Art by Romantic Book Designs
Edited by Editing4Indies
Book Design by Melissa Andrea
HEARTBREAK FOR HIRE
I turn trusted housewives into adulterous whores.
Let’s face it, nothing lasts forever. She may have started out as your wet dream, but now, she’s your ball and chain. Let me set you free.
I’ll turn your loyal lady into a lecherous liar.
I can give you the uncontested divorce you desire, end your impending engagement, or rid you of that clingy girlfriend.
Either way, you’ll be a free man.
My name is Rift, and men pay me to have affairs with their women. It’s my job to get caught. While unethical, my profession is easy. Hell, most days it’s fun. At least until I fall for the soon-to-be ex of my newest client.
PROLOGUE
The soft click of the front door sounded in the distance. The only reason I heard such a quiet noise over her obnoxious sucking—which felt amazing—was because I was listening for it. I almost lost myself in her mouth a few times before I remembered exactly what I was doing.
She looked up at me through her large curls and licked the head of my dick with a smile. My thumb skimmed the side of her cheek as I cupped it. She was sweet—one of the sweetest I’d fucked over. I almost felt bad for what I was doing to her, but then again, she’d given in to me, which meant she wasn’t any different from the rest.
Losing my fingers in her chestnut hair, I grinned when I heard the hallway floor squeak beneath his steps. He was close, and knowing the end was near filled my chest with excitement. After many years of doing this, the thrill never got old. No matter how many times I played a part in this drama, it was always like the first time.
My eyes slid closed, and for a few seconds, I enjoyed the warmth of her mouth. I hadn’t fucked a woman for myself in a long time. I hadn’t tasted my preference of woman in years. It was always for work and whatever client I was working for. It didn’t matter what they looked like. They were the job.
Don’t get me wrong, the women felt good. Sex was sex, after all, but getting paid the big bucks while I laid back and let them lick and suck my cock and balls or ride me like a prized stud somehow intensified the sensation.
Another squeak.
He was creeping as I had advised him to. He was buying himself precious time without spooking his wife and making her flee. This wouldn’t work if he didn’t catch her with her lips wrapped around my cock. He had to catch us in the act. Too much was riding on that exact moment.
The hardwood floor just outside their door whined, and this time, it was a bit louder. I felt her mouth loosen as if she heard it too, and I quickly moaned in pleasure and pushed her down onto my shaft.
He was close to catching us—I was close to wrapping up my fifty-thousand-dollar deal. I wasn’t about to let a loose floorboard or a reasonable blow job ruin that for me.
My cell next to their bed ticked off the seconds until showtime.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Lights.
Camera.
Action.
“Heather?” Jonathan Bishop said from the bedroom door.
His intrusion was like clockwork. I couldn’t have timed it any better.
My eyes clashed with his, a certain amount of understanding swimming in his brown orbs. He cut an imposing figure—tall and dark and wickedly handsome the way most women
liked. It was no wonder he wasn’t without an abundance of women. Had our situation not been planned, I could see myself in for a good fight. He was a big guy, but I was bigger.
“What’s going on?” he asked, his eyes skimming over our scene and taking it in.
The door squeaked as he pushed it open farther, filling the dim room with the light from the hallway. The light washed over our naked bodies, giving him a full view of us.
“This isn’t happening,” he muttered. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
Shit.
This wasn’t going to work.
He was a terrible actor. He stood there, his eyes wide in feigned shock. That expression might have worked if it wasn’t for the noticeable grin he kept trying to cover.
We’d discussed the proper way to “interrupt” my affair with his wife, but apparently, he hadn’t taken my advice to practice.
My eyes trailed over his defensive stance—the tightness in his shoulders and his large, rigid arms … he looked like a man ready for a fight. Except for the fucking grin.
His white button-up was tucked into his khaki slacks, and his hair was combed perfectly. Then I noticed the damp curl on the ends of his hair.
Fuck.
He didn’t look like a man who just got off a plane from a business trip. He looked fully rested and refreshed. The bastard still had damp hair from his shower.
After our talk, he should have been the perfect picture of a nice guy catching the love of his life in her most dishonest moment. There should have been devastation in his eyes and possible moisture from pressing tears. He should have had heartache written all over his face.
Nope.
This fucker looked like he was ready to burst into his happy dance.
Why didn’t these guys listen to me?
I’d only been doing this job for the past seven years of my life. I knew what worked. I’d been in this same situation many times before. If the men showed their heartache and devastation properly, then the women fell into position, which was dropping to their knees and begging for forgiveness. The men wouldn’t give that forgiveness, of course, since that was kind of the point, but at the rate we were going, his wife would know something was up.
Little Black Box Set Page 65
