Hard Bargain: a Billionaire Suspense Romance (City Sinners Book 3)

by Kenna Shaw Reed

  “Last semester finished, done and dusted; may the rest of my life begin.” There was no force of the smile, she couldn’t wait to put all study behind her and start living.

  “And here you are, a glorious vision waiting to greet us into the James residence.” He mockingly bowed although his eyes never left her body.

  “Mum wants all guests greeted by a family member, you know, help them find their way around the back to the party, complete with a drink in hand.” Yes, they had staff to help, but family occasions such as this demanded the family touch. She’d learnt the drill before she could talk. Only, this time she wasn’t ready to let Zac pass any more than he appeared to want to join the party.

  “I think I remember my way around, but how long have they got you on guard patrol here, I want to hear all about your plans.” Again, those green eyes told her more than she expected and without reason, she shivered in the summer heat.

  How could she even think about Zac in that way after she—no.

  He’d never understand and if she couldn’t explain it to herself then how could she explain it to Zac. She loved who Kitty was and hated knowing how others would judge. Good people, nice and upstanding people, like Zac.

  Damn, Zac Templeton!

  If only the answer was easy.

  “I promised my parents I’d be here until all the guests are ticked off.” She showed him the folder with most of the names unaccounted for. “I’d love to catch up, but another time?”

  “I’ll make sure of it.” Without warning, another peck on her cheek as his eyes teased, “If I asked nicely, would you give me your number or make me go through your brother?”

  Cat had time to think while she invited the other guests into the house, sorted them out with drinks and took her time to escort each out to the backyard.

  When she returned, Zac hadn’t moved other than to help greet another couple who arrived in her absence.

  “Catherine?” he waited until there was a lull in the arrivals. “Do I need to get your brother’s permission to ask you out or will you give me your number?”

  For years she’d crushed on Zac, dreaming of the moment he noticed her as more than Lucas’ sister. But after these last months, it might be easier to make him go through Lucas. Her brother knew Erebus and suspected she’d run away from something. Lucas knew Zac better than anyone and wouldn’t hand over her number if Zac couldn’t be trusted.

  Cat and Kitty could trust Lucas’ judgement even if she couldn’t trust her own.

  “I’m busy here, but if Lucas gives you my number, then give me a call.”

  If Zac was man enough to ask Lucas, perhaps he was man enough to meet Kitty? She could only hope her heart wouldn’t let her down, this time.

  Zac

  The smile hadn’t left his face since he saw her at the top of the stairs. Zac had crushed on his mate’s sister all through high school and even when the group still hung out in uni, he’d always wanted to know if it was fair to leave Lucus’ kid sister behind when they went out.

  Girls came into his life pretending to have an interest in him as a person while his only assets were a surfer’s body and a mind-boggling trust fund. While waiting for Catherine to grow up and notice him, he happily enjoyed the offerings women insisted he take, but even when he wished he could fall in love and settle down, none of them stayed in his life for one simple reason. They could never compete with his image of Catherine James.

  Catching up with Catherine was the only reason he’d changed his entire schedule to be in Sydney this weekend. Impossible-to-get tickets to some new opening on Broadway were given away to a favored client and surviving a thirty-odd hour flight back to Sydney all to see one woman.

  Catherine James.

  Even her name rolled off his lips like a delicate flower, a rich sweet chocolate, or even a love sonnet.

  Except now she was all grown up, with a body to melt ice and despite having a reputation as a player in some of his social circles, when it came to Catherine, he didn’t know how to even approach her.

  What was he supposed to do—go up to his old friend and say, “Hey, you know all the times I crashed at your place, well it was so I could pour your sister OJ the next morning and hear her say ‘thanks’. Now I want to ask her out, can you give me her number?”

  If he did, Lucas could and should feel betrayed and if Lucas had any idea of all the dirty thought’s he’d had about Catherine over the years, well—friendships had ended over less.

  He loved Catherine, her sense of humor and the kindness he’d witnessed on more than one occasion. Especially with the junior surf-lifesavers who feared the training. Or the way she could wait with a victim’s family while paramedics were doing their job. Calm and empathetic under pressure. It was almost cruel to have the perfect woman grow up and become the perfect package.

  Why couldn’t she have grown up ugly, or at least not drop dead gorgeous. Zac imagined every guy she met throwing out lines. The pale hazel eyes, the breasts that could have their own post code, yet today she dressed so demurely. Who was he to compete for her attention, let alone proclaim his long-held admiration and love?

  Catherine James.

  How on earth was he going to pretend he was here for any reason other than to see her, again. But if he didn’t do something now, then his career was taking off and he’d only be in Australia a couple of weeks each month. With Lucas going off to save the world, either he made his move today or forever hold his peace.

  “Mate!” Lucas greeted him with surprise. “Thought you were tied up, New York isn’t it?”

  Of course, Lucas had a couple of girls hanging off him. Little did they know they weren’t his type by a couple of decades.

  “Yeah, but your parents asked so nicely, how could I say ‘no’?”

  “Well, good to see you, ladies, do you remember Zac Templeton? I’m sure he’ll show you the way to the bar.” Ever the generous soul, Lucas tried to palm off the women to him.

  “Ladies, I’d be happy to get you a drink later, but do you mind? I need to talk to the guest of honor for a couple of minutes.” This wasn’t the day to become distracted or let Lucas think he would flake on Catherine.

  Zac waited for them to be alone. Crap. Trapped in a corner, he couldn’t see a way out without telling Lucas. Catherine was still at the front door and he overheard her mother make noises about getting her to circulate with trays of food as soon as she was done with introductions.

  Face to face, Lucas at least had the grace to smile and toast with fresh beers.

  “Mate, I don’t even know how to say this—” Zac began.

  Lucas

  About bloody time.

  Lucas knew before Zac even came over, what he was about to ask. Either for permission to date Cat or for her number so he could ask the lady himself.

  As if Zac’s interest in Cat hadn’t been obvious to their friendship group for years. All the pathetic “Why don’t we ask your sister to join us?”

  At first Lucas treated it as a joke but when Zac’s interest didn’t seem to fade, it became a fact of life. Zac had a thing for Cat and his poor sister didn’t have a clue.

  “Then spit it out.” There was a party in full swing, and Lucas didn’t have the time or inclination to wait for Zac to get to the point.

  “I asked Catherine for her number, to catch up and that.” Lucas stifled a smile; the poor guy was trying so hard to downplay what he wanted. “She said to ask you.”

  “You want to date my sister?” Lucas couldn’t help the over-protective tone, at least outwardly.

  Fuck, she could do a lot worse—and whatever drove her to Erebus would be the worse. Lucas was about to head off for months and wouldn’t be around to look out for her, not that he’d done much before.

  But Zac? They’d lost contact after uni when Zac joined some global firm and started counting days in the same country as Lucas counted, well the number of times he ate at the same restaurant. Single figures. Could Zac give Cat the stability and
support she needed after—well whatever she’d been through?

  “Would it be a problem; I mean I’ve known her for years.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m only asking for her number.”

  “If you’re asking me, it’s for much more than just her number and you know it. Aren’t there enough women in New York? Why my sister?”

  “Because she’s Catherine. Just, because.”

  Lucas didn’t have an answer, only a number he’d never given out to another friend before, and never would again.

  Will Kitty / Cat find her happily ever after with Zac? Or could billionaires Darius and Scott come to blows over The Bad Kitty.

  Sneak peek: Reckless Gamble

  Prologue

  GG

  If anyone recognizes me, I’m dead.

  If I lose my borrowed stake on the first night, I’m dead.

  The rest of my life starts today, but only if I’m smarter than I was before. Never trust a man. Never fall in love.

  This is the last chance at a fresh start.

  Mask in place, I’m ready.

  Chapter 1: Aces high

  Scott Alexander

  I could probably count my functioning brain cells on one hand. Exhaustion or booze, take your pick. Sitting at the green felt table, my numb ass reminded me we’d been playing for hours but I couldn’t be fucked watching the time.

  Carlos has to be bluffing. Sitting across the green felt table with the arrogant smirk he didn’t try hiding when he used the same, predictable move to wipe out two players an hour ago.

  Poker can be a mean bitch and I used to be her master.

  When Carlos used the move on Jamie and Todd, I used a counter ploy to collect piles of plastic chips off the other’s misfortunes. They were watching Carlos when they should have been watching me. Until now, I’d avoided the risk of making the call.

  Safe.

  Smart.

  Sober.

  “All in,” Carlos repeated, as if the table hadn’t heard him the first time. Douche bag.

  Three hours and forty-seven minutes. Succumbing to a subtle glance at my stainless-steel Tag Heuer Carrera watch and I felt more than a little impressed. Despite myself and with minimal encouragement to do otherwise, I’ve lasted longer tonight than either I or anyone else expected.

  Survived without caving to the same self-destructive pattern which claimed my pride and ended countless nights over the last year or two.

  I fingered the slight scar across my left jawline. Noticeable to the touch but probably unseen through my uncharacteristic and definitely uncomfortable four- or was it five-day stubble. Luckily, my scar and the expanding hole in my wallet are the only evidence of my embarrassing fall from life. That started the night I went all in with a woman, only to find out she was already all in with someone else.

  Mr. Sensible, who played by the rules never show your cards and always protect your heart, had disregarded good sense. What a fool I’d been.

  Like a fucking idiot, I’d lost my heart to a woman who didn’t ask for it, never turned me away, and somehow forgot to tell me there were other players for her heart. Damn, she was good. She’d been the only player to consistently beat me at the table. Her tells well hidden behind deceitful lies. Couldn’t read her at the table or in bed.

  Bitch.

  Wench.

  Heart breaker.

  Since then, I’ve turned up at Jarryd Bennet’s table, starting each night with a full stack and pretending to care about life and consequences. But as the hours pass and with the alcohol invading my system, the futility of life and money would come full circle. From conqueror to easy pickings for whomever survived the early carnage.

  “Mr. Alexander, it’s your call.” My friend and organizer of the best high-end private games in Sydney offered a gentle reminder his dealer could give me another time warning.

  I wanted to call.

  A loss would leave me with the short stack and vulnerable to Carlos and GG. But, I reasoned, it’d be good to see the newcomer, GG take down Carlos. Well worth the price of admission. Based on how she’d played tonight, I figured she’d only need two hands. One to set Carlos up and the second to bring him down.

  “Mr. Alexander?”

  I ignored the dealer, my focus on the sexy enigma, GG. What the fuck sort of name was GG and where had she come from?

  She’d made one hell of a first impression and not just on me.

  Sauntering into the penthouse hotel room Jarryd had booked for the night of poker, sexually charged in her little black leather dress barely covering her thigh-high, black latex boots. Large round sunglasses couldn’t hide her heavy make-up or distract from the glossy long black hair. A woman to be devoured on sight by a starving man, before he—or I—could come back and savor her like an expensive shiraz.

  We’d started the night as a table of ten. Early on, when I still cared, Edmund, Col Mueller and Tim Avant fell to my game. Carlos and GG shared the others.

  “Mr. Alexander. Are you calling or folding?” Fuck the dealer. I’ve been torn between the same two choices each morning when I wake; to take back my dignity and life, or cash in and walk away.

  I’m too old for this shit. I stretched until my neck clicked before flexing my fists. A decade older than the younger players and with two decades as Sydney’s most courted chief financial officer, I couldn’t explain my love of the cards even to myself.

  Only fools gamble. No, I quickly corrected myself. It’s not gambling when I gave a shit and was in control. Or when I had the sobriety to calculate success to a mathematical probability.

  The room fell silent and I knew my friends wanted me back in the game. To be the fierce opponent they respected and feared.

  The egotistical Carlos stopped looking at me, instead studying his hand as if the cards could change through osmosis. GG adjusted her seat so she could see both of us without twisting her head. Smart girl. Smart woman. Sexy kitten with long red claws to match her full lips.

  Focus. Stop being a fuckwit and think about what you know.

  I stopped looking at the bead of sweat threatening to find a path between GG’s breasts to consider the facts. Carlos played through his predictable patterns tonight, but to be honest, I’d been even more predictable over the past months. Arrogant prick thought he had me, but he will never be worthy of the win.

  Three hours and fifty-two minutes.

  “Put another pot of coffee on, I fold.” I didn’t react when Carlos tabled his cards—yeah, I made the right call—but Carlos made a mistake showing his conceit as well as his cards.

  Four hands later, I took pleasure in trapping Carlos with his own trick.

  “And then there were two,” GG purred from across the table.

  I refrained from explaining the best games in life are when there are no third parties. Carlos left the room in a sulk and I saw the dealer swallow a flicker of a smile before setting up for the next hand. All the lessons from life and love could be learned at the poker table. Perhaps it’s about time I manned up at the table and remembered them.

  Could GG be woman enough to teach me?

  Four hours and twenty-seven minutes.

  GG

  If I’d known Scott would take out Carlos, I’d have asked for a break earlier. My back started to cramp up from sitting still all night, my jaw almost locked into place with my fuck you gaze giving nothing away and, quite frankly, I needed to pee.

  The seven hands before Carlos went all in, Scott had played like an old and tired amateur. I knew I could take down Carlos in two, maybe three hands by challenging his ego. Now, the five hands had turned the game from boring to interesting. All because of the last man standing.

  Scott Alexander.

  Fuck it. My tongue was sticking to the top of my mouth, but one sip of water risked an accident the cleaners wouldn’t thank me for.

  “Dealer, can I have five minutes?” My first request of the night couldn’t be denied. Even though the eliminated players just wanted
the game to finish so they could go home, by asking for a break I showed it wouldn’t be an easy fight.

  “Certainly. But if you’re not back in five—”

  “I know.” Resisting the urge to adjust my sweaty boots, I held my face serene walking past empty bottles and platters to the bathroom.

  So far, so good.

  Walking into a new game always demanded a level of fuck you to the world and one I’ve mastered. Still, I know walking into a room filled with professional and semi-professional players can easily destroy the fainthearted. Luckily, I left my heart in Melbourne and came here with one objective—to walk away with the cash, and fast.

  “Miss?”

  Only four and a half hours ago, the scantily dressed waitress had greeted me without warmth. Eventually, she’d find out I tip better than most men without the side expectations. But when I first arrived, I was just another new player to be parted from my stack.

  “Mr. Bennett is expecting me.” I had replied with a cocky swagger familiar to any man, but unusual in a woman. Necessary to separate myself at the outset from the waitresses and other staff.

  “GG?” Jarryd’s online profile hadn’t done him justice but still—what a DILF! Oh, my! My body reacted the moment I saw his dark brown straight hair and smoky eyes. Hell, I didn’t even need to look lower to his cut body, and my self-composure relied on not sneaking a glance.

  No playing with your food, my inner voice warned, and I needed to listen. Jarryd promised to be far more valuable as a source of future cash flow to risk ruining by a night or two calling his name between the sheets.

  “Mr. Bennett?”

  “Please, call me Jarryd and let me welcome you to Sydney.”

  “Thank you.” Sydney hadn’t been my first choice or even second, but since my ex-husband got Melbourne in our divorce, my family suggested either the Queensland Gold Coast or Sydney. By reputation, the Gold Coast would have been the better option if I wanted to be a professional gambler, but Sydney had better options for consulting. Every girl needs a superpower and mine has been helping firms understand the psychological needs of their customers and increase profits by driving behavioral change.