Off Limits: Playboys of New York Series

by Low, JA

I double over in pain, stumbling along the corridor toward my door. Sucking in shallow breaths, I realize I’m not breathing. I can’t breathe. Panic engulfs me as I collapse to the floor in a flood of tears.

  “Is that my sister?” a male voice echoes down the hallway.

  “I don’t know?” a female voice answers.

  “Chloe. Chloe.” I hear my brother shouting at me, his hands shaking my body. “Wake up, Chlo.” The concern in his voice brings me back to the reality I don’t want to be a part of. Then I hear loud banging.

  “What’s going on?” a female answers the door.

  “Stella, something’s wrong with Chlo.”

  “I should leave,” an unrecognizable voice adds.

  “Yeah, you should. This is family business,” Stella says to the blurry figure beside me. Then another pair of hands are on me, shaking me, but all I want to do is curl up into the fetal position.

  “We should call Walker,” Stella states.

  “No!” I scream, sitting up quickly. “No.” The second time comes out in a wounded wail, the tears falling again as the walls close in on me. EJ picks me up in his arms and pushes his way into my suite.

  “What’s going on?” Ariana asks.

  “I don’t know. I found her outside like this,” EJ tells her.

  “She doesn’t want us to get Walker,” Stella adds.

  Next thing I know, Ariana is wrapping her arms around me as we lay on the couch.

  “What did he do?” she whispers in my ear.

  “What the…” Emma trails off as she joins the room.

  Stella and EJ fill her in.

  “You saw something, didn’t you?” Ariana asks.

  Looking up at her, she instantly knows the answer.

  “Oh, babe.” She holds me tighter. “You want to go?” I agree with a simple nod. “You want to cancel the wedding?”

  Inside I am yelling, screaming the word ‘yes,’ but I’m unable to speak the words.

  Thankfully, Ariana can read me. “Okay. Sit tight. We’ll pack everything right now.” Ariana untangles herself from me. “Right, team? Walker’s fucked up.”

  There are gasps.

  “I’ll fucking kill him with my bare hands,” EJ snarls.

  “You’ll have time for that later, but for now, Chloe wants to get out of here. So, Operation Runaway Bride needs to happen, and it needs to happen now,” Ariana orders everyone.

  I have no idea how long it takes, but the next thing I know, I’m being whisked away from my suite with our bags in tow, EJ keeping me close as we head to the basement to get into our cars. He places me ever so gently against the leather seat and then straps me in.

  “When you’re ready, Chlo, I’m here for you.” He kisses my forehead while everyone else slides into to car. “Where to?” EJ asks.

  Somehow, I find my voice. “Home! I need to pack up my house. I have to get far, far away from them.” I spit the words them out. The car falls silent, EJ follows my directions, and we head toward home.

  After a short drive, we pull up to the large oversized gates. I mumble the passcode to EJ, who types it into the security system. We continue on through the gates and pull up in front of the tall, white columns of the front entry. Stepping over the threshold, the one that Walker was supposed to carry me over, I feel numb. Our home doesn’t feel the same anymore. There’s nothing here now but stark white walls and false promises.

  “Please, I just need to pack up as much as I can.” Telling my friends what I want to take, they understand and quickly get to work, packing up my bedroom, including all my clothes, shoes, bags, and jewelry.

  “I’ve organized a private jet for you. We can go anywhere you like,” EJ tells me as we finish the last of the packing.

  “New York. I want to go to New York.” EJ gives my shoulder a squeeze as he takes my bags to the car.

  There is no hesitation when I shut the door to my old life. Who knew someone’s life could change so much in the shortest of moments? I don’t know who that girl is anymore, the one who lived in the white mansion on top of the hill, the one who was blissfully unaware that her life was one massive lie. That her closest ally was stabbing her in the back.

  I was blinded by love.

  Never again.

  * * *

  Once we’re up in the air, I finally feel safe. I’ve been worried that Walker or Tracey might catch wind of what I’m doing and stop me. But now, high up in the clouds and what feels like a million miles away from them, I’m safe enough to share with everyone. Plus, there’s no way any of my friends will go to jail for murder when they hear the truth.

  Sipping my vodka, I clear my throat grabbing everyone’s attention. “You guys really are ride or die. You’ve all packed up my life without hesitation or questions and got me the hell out of Dodge. How can I ever repay you guys?” Tears well in my eyes.

  “Something big happened. You were in shock. We knew you needed to get out of there,” Emma confesses.

  Reaching out, I grab her hand giving it a thankful squeeze. “Thank you.” Smiling sadly, I continue, “I snuck out of our room to visit Walker.” While explaining, I look over at my friends and brother. “What I wasn’t expecting was for Walker not to be alone.”

  “That fucker,” EJ curses.

  “Hope his dick falls off,” Emma adds.

  “Who was he with?” Ariana asks, but I think she already knows the answer.

  “Tracey.”

  The plane falls silent.

  Deathly silent.

  “No…” Stella breaks the silence, “… she wouldn’t?”

  “I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen them fucking on his sofa with my very eyes.”

  “That fucker,” EJ curses, hurling his crystal tumbler across the plane hitting the wall and shattering it into tiny diamonds silencing everyone, the amber liquid rolling like a river down the white fuselage.

  “EJ,” Stella screams.

  The stewardess rushes out from the back of the plane on hearing the commotion. “So sorry about that.” Stella points to the wall. “We’ve had some bad news, and he didn’t handle it well.” The beautiful blonde looks over Stella’s shoulder to where EJ is pacing around the cabin, almost tearing his hair out. A slight frown forms across her forehead before turning her attention back to Stella where she gives her a professional smile and quickly cleans up EJ’s mess.

  I’m hoping he doesn’t freak out more when I tell him what else I know. Sucking in a deep breath while trying to steady the sickness rolling around in my stomach over the words I’m about to say, “The baby’s his.”

  They all stare at me in disbelief.

  Silence.

  “Now, I get why you waited to tell us.” Ariana adds, “You know we would have killed them both.” She moves and sits beside me in the chair. I curl up into her arms.

  “That’s fucking messed up,” Emma curses.

  “It’s been going on for about a year.” The entire plane of people erupts into cursing and head shaking.

  “And he moved her into your home,” Emma states angrily.

  “Fucking bastard,” EJ curses.

  “He’s going to freak when you don’t turn up.” Stella smiles.

  “This is the biggest ‘fuck you’ ever.” Ariana nudges me.

  “I know.”

  “Wait a minute…” Emma stands up abruptly, “… you leaving him at the altar isn’t going to do him damage. People are going to feel sorry for him. They’re going to paint you as the villain, Chloe.”

  She’s ever the marketer.

  “She’s right,” Stella agrees.

  “No one knows about Tracey. They’re just going to think that you’re a bitch, or he’s going to turn it around and say that you cheated on him.”

  “Would a recording of their conversation help my case?”

  “You’re shitting me.” Emma smiles.

  “I don’t know what I was doing in my shock, but apparently I hit record on my phone and got it all.” Years of deali
ng with footballers and their scandals I guess set me up for my own scandal.

  “Stella. You have to send the recording to the press,” EJ tells her.

  “You want me, to?” Stella asks. “Once it’s out, there’s no going back,” she advises me.

  “You’re right. He’s going to turn this around on me. Do it!” Handing over my phone, I watch her fly into action.

  3

  Noah

  “This is paradise.” Feeling the warmth of the sun against my skin almost gives me goosebumps but in a good way.

  “We’re supposed to be working,” my brother and twin, Logan, reminds me.

  “You told me this was an all-expenses-paid holiday. You said nothing about working,” Anderson, my best friend groans beside him.

  “We’re supposed to be pretending to be on a guy’s trip, remember?” I remind my brother. “Have another beer.” Grinning at him, he rolls his eyes and lays back against his sun lounge, pulling his designer sunglasses over his eyes while a tense tick twitches across his jaw.

  “I don’t know how you two think this undercover mission is going to work. Everyone knows what you look like. You’re the ‘playboy twins of New York.’” Anderson chuckles, sipping on his beer.

  Fuck, I hate that nickname the press has given us. Yes, we date. But not all the women who are seen on our arms are sleeping with us. It’s good for business to be seen out and about. We are selling a luxury brand, a lifestyle—of course, my brother and I have to pretend we live the life we’re selling.

  “Fuck you.” Flipping my friend off, he knows how much we hate that nickname. “If you’re going to be a dick all week, you can get on the next plane home.”

  Anderson chuckles and ignores me. Pulling my own sunglasses down over my eyes, hoping the disguise will work, we all settle into our sun lounges by the pool.

  Logan and I scan the resort looking at areas where we can improve—making sure the staff is doing as they’re trained, checking that the guests are having a great time.

  Logan and I started The Stone Group years ago. The company owns luxury boutique hotels around the world catering to the wealthy elite. People pay large amounts of money to be able to holiday in style and anonymity with us, so we have to make sure we are delivering that promise.

  Anderson, as much as he’s a dick, he’s the one who funded our first hotel in Bali. We met him at college, the typical East Coast trust fund boy, but the difference with him was he’s smart. He has a knack for numbers and business.

  We were drunk one night at the bar, told him in a moment of weakness our idea, he told us he loved it, he would finance it, and the next day we were on his private jet to Bali scouting locations. The rest is history as they say.

  “Please tell me you’re seeing what I’m seeing.” Anderson slaps me in the chest.

  Logan and I look over to what’s captured his attention. We fall silent. Three of the most beautiful women enter the pool area dressed in various stages of resort wear from bikini to cover up. They all have cocktails in their hands and are giggling. I think maybe they’ve already had one too many before visiting the pool. They move in a pack toward us, the three of us watch as they giggle their way over to where we’re sitting. Are they coming to talk to us? Taking a quick sip of my beer to cover the fact that I can’t stop staring at them, we watch in fascination as they throw their bags on the chairs right beside us. They don’t break their conversations as they each grab a sun lounge and move them closer to each other.

  I’ve noticed the other men around the pool equally as fascinated as we are with the new guests.

  “Who’s up for a swim?” the tall raven-haired woman asks, pulling the sarong off of her hips, exposing the tiniest white bikini.

  “Fuck me,” my brother curses beside me as she turns to head for the pool before suddenly stopping. Bright jade green eyes peruse us. The other girls stop their various stages of undress and follow to where her attention has been drawn.

  “Well, hello there, boys.” She places a manicured hand on her hip while cocking an arched brow in our direction. “Are you enjoying the view?”

  “Most certainly are,” Anderson calls back. The raven-haired beauty’s eyes narrow in on him, and she gives him a sly smirk. Turning on her heel, she struts toward the pool, her hips swaying in a hypnotic trance. The other two girls follow suit, joining her in the pool.

  “Chlo,” the brunette calls out which draws my attention from them in the pool to someone else. She’s waving to a beautiful blonde who’s walking along the pool’s edge, a towel in one arm and her cell in the other. She looks up momentarily from the screen and gives them a smile before turning back to her phone.

  “Get off the phone,” the raven-haired girl screams at her friend. “You know nothing good can come of it,” she says, warning her.

  She waves her friend’s request away as she furiously types on her phone. She’s so caught up in it that she doesn’t notice the step, and the next thing I know, I’m jumping off of my chair as she begins to crash to earth. Lunging and stretching as far as I can, I grab her just in time before she hits the concrete, but her phone sails off and smashes onto the stone of the pool surrounds.

  “Are you okay?” My arms wrap tightly around her. She looks up at me, momentarily stunned, before quickly jumping out of my arms and brushing the imaginary dust off of her.

  “Oh… um… thanks.” She sounds panicked. Did I scare her? “Shit.” She crouches down picking up her shattered phone then she closes her eyes, and I notice she’s on the brink of tears.

  “Told you no good would come from that phone,” the raven-haired girl calls from the pool while chuckling.

  Seems a little harsh of her friend to say in that moment.

  The blonde picks up her phone and throws it back into her bag. She’s so absorbed that it takes her a couple of moments to realize I’m still standing near her. “Sorry, I’m not myself at the moment. Thank you. Thanks for saving my ass.” She gives me a small smile.

  “I don’t mind having a beautiful woman falling at my feet.” Cracking an awful joke, she looks up at me, and the small smile disappears from her face.

  “Men,” she mumbles under her breath, moving away from me.

  Was my pick-up line that bad?

  She throws her bag down with the others and quickly strips off her sundress and joins the others in the pool.

  “That was an epic strikeout.” Anderson laughs, and I flip him off.

  “As hot as they are, we’re here to work,” my brother reminds me.

  * * *

  “Shit!” Looking down at the red wine stain splashed across my white shirt and dripping into my lap.

  “I’m so sorry, sir.” The waitress looks like she’s about to cry.

  “It’s okay,” I tell her through gritted teeth. “It was an accident.”

  Which it was—a guest pushed passed her, which resulted in the glass ending up on my lap.

  “I’ll head back to my room and get changed.”

  Anderson, of course, doesn’t stop laughing. The fucker. I roll my eyes as I exit the restaurant.

  As soon as I’m on the deserted path leading back to my beach bungalow, I strip off my white shirt. I don’t need the wet material sticking to me in this heat. It’s going straight in the bin, I’m sure nothing can save it. I round the corner to my villa and run directly into the blonde from the pool walking along the path. She’s absorbed in her phone again.

  “Shit. Sorry.” I reach out and grab her arms, nearly knocking her over.

  “No… it’s all…” She looks up and realizes who ran into her. “You again.” Her tone changes dramatically.

  “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.” There I go again with the lame jokes. She doesn’t smile, but she does notice the fact I don’t have my shirt on. So, I flex ever so subtly. I work out when I’m home, running through Central Park every morning before work to prepare for the day. I’m confident enough to know that I look good—shirt or no shirt.

 
; “Why do you have your shirt off?” Glaring at me, she folds her arms in front of her chest defensively.

  “Waitress spilled red wine on me.” Flicking the destroyed shirt up in the air, I show her the stains.

  “Did you use a bad pickup line on her, too?” Her tone has a little bite to it.

  What? Wonder why she’s she having a go at me.

  “No. A guest bumped her as she was handing me my drink.” Not that I owe her any sort of an explanation. “If you’ll excuse me…” moving past her, “… have a good night.” Making my way to my villa, I can see she has man-hater written right across her forehead. I don’t have time for women like that.

  “Hey,” she calls out.

  Ignoring her, I walk closer to my villa. I don’t play games with women. You’re either into me or not. I don’t play hard to get. I don’t do the whole ‘treat them mean to keep them keen’ routine.

  Footsteps echo along the stone path behind me.

  “Wait. I’m sorry.”

  I’m steps away from reaching the door handle of my villa when a hand touches my forearm, halting me.

  “I’m not normally this much of a bitch.” The words tumble out of her mouth quickly, and I smile.

  “You’re not interested. I get it. I’m sorry to have interfered in your holiday.”

  A frown falls across her face. “You were interested…” she pauses, and I watch her eyebrows squeeze together tightly, “… in me?”

  Before I can answer her, she shakes her head from whatever thought had entered her mind, and she continues talking, “Sorry. I just… look at you.” She points at me. Those oceanic blue eyes trail over my bare chest, a slight tint of pink falls across her cheeks. “You’re all…” She waves her hand in my direction while she trails off.

  “All what?” I’m slightly confused, so I want to know what she means.

  “You’re wanting me to say it out loud?”

  “Yeah, ‘cause I feel like I’ve missed some part of the conversation.”

  She rolls her eyes at me.

  Why does this woman intrigue me?