Gravity (Wilde Boys Book 1)
Page 1
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Epilogue
Freefall
Acknowledgments
Beautiful Monster
Also by Sara Cate
About the Author
Copyright © 2020 by Sara Cate
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
www.saracatebooks.com
Photographer: Michelle Lancaster
Editing: Amy Briggs of Briggs Consulting
For my pilot
Prologue
Love is our greatest weakness. Nothing will royally fuck you up the way love can, and I swore I would never be such an idiot for another person.
Yet, all I can think as I watch Nash Wilde walk across the sunlit yard from the pool to the house, is that I love him—and I hate him for it. He won’t give me the time of day and I can’t tell if it’s because he doesn’t notice me or if he just doesn’t like me. After two years of these weekend trips with my sister to her boyfriend’s family house on their private island, I realize I’ve put off these feelings for his brother long enough. It’s a risk, but I’m ready to take it.
At first I thought it was a crush. I mean, who wouldn’t be beguiled by those ocean blue eyes and chin-length brown hair in that six-three frame? But it’s not just his looks that caught me. Nash is a force, and I’m drawn to him like gravity.
Today, I’m going to tell him. It’s our last day of our Spring Break trip, and I’m tired of living with this secret. Plus, it feels like fate. He was supposed to be gone today. He and Preston were scheduled to be at the launch party in the city, but in a last minute switch, Emma ended up going instead.
So, this is my chance.
He disappears into the main house, and I make my way over, hoping I’ll catch him before he slips away into the bathroom. There is no plan really. I’m just going to go in there with my best flirting skills, and if that doesn’t work, I’ll throw myself at him.
Like I said, love makes you stupid.
After I walk through the patio door that leads to the kitchen, I nearly slam into him, my heart hammering in my chest. He’s shirtless, a thin layer of sweat glistening across his pecs and abs. My fingers glide across the moisture as I peel myself away.
“Sorry,” he mutters as he tries to move past me. His hands land softly on my arms.
In a panic, I try to stop him from leaving. “It’s just us today. I thought we could hang out.”
His eyes rest on my face for a moment, and I want to swim in those blue pools staring down at me. He doesn’t move them away, as if he’s considering me for the first time. If he asked me to get on my knees at this very moment, I would.
Then a door opens behind him, and we both turn to see his dad walk out of his office. Alistair Wilde normally makes himself scarce while we’re around, but he does tend to linger, and I make it a point to be as gracious as possible when I see him. He is letting my sister and I, a couple of nobodies, spend nearly every weekend out here, all expenses paid with fancy helicopter rides on top of it.
After sending him a casual wave, I turn back toward Nash, whose hand is still on my arm, and I notice his curious expression has hardened into a hate-filled scowl.
“Have you heard from Preston? He’s supposed to call me before the party, but I haven’t heard a thing. They should have landed twenty minutes ago,” his dad asks.
“Find him yourself,” Nash mutters before turning and huffing out the door in a frenzy.
I’m left alone with Alistair and a look of confusion on both of our faces. I’ve never sensed any animosity between the two of them before, but there definitely seems to be some now.
Just then, Alistair’s phone buzzes and he retreats into his office to answer it. I try to catch up Nash, leaving the house and following him over to the pool.
“Everything okay?” I call, but he turns in a huff, and I see a rim of red around his eyes. In the distance, there’s a buzz like thunder growing louder.
Nash looks straight at me, the intensity overwhelming. He’s about to say something, and the words hang on his lips as we both flinch from the commotion coming from in the house. It sounds as if someone is hitting a wall or throwing something. Then there’s yelling. Alistair’s voice slices through the growing buzz of the approaching helicopter that is interrupting our peaceful morning. It’s a sound so haunting, it’s etched into my memory forever.
Nash and I turn back to the helipad behind the house to see a black and blue official looking helicopter land just as someone hops out and walks toward us.
I look at Nash for answers, figuring this is a business matter or something wrong with their company, but the pale, wide-eyed expression on his face sends chills down my spine.
It’s something worse than bad business or money lost.
Alistair rushes past us, yelling toward the people coming out of the aircraft. He’s frantic, shouting his questions, tearing at his hair, demanding answers, but his words don’t reach my ears. So I stand silent and confused and wait for everything to make sense.
Next to me, Nash is a statue of despair, frozen in place and suddenly pale. He already knows what I’m still trying to understand.
The roar from the blades above us drowns out the sounds, numbing me to my core as everything starts to settle into place. A tear falls across Nash’s cheek and lands against the pool deck. I see it out of the corner of my eye as every emotion-feeling molecule in my body shuts down one by one until I am completely guarded from the approaching pain.
1
The crowd is rowdy tonight. Even through the blaring music, I can hear them whistling and yelling my name. But with the bright lights, I can’t see a single face across the club floor. When I’m on stage, it’s only me and the music.
This is my favorite part. I don’t feel a thing except for the momentum when I swing around the pole, my legs locked in place to keep me upright until I’m falling with grace, catching myself with a vice grip between my thighs.
That moment of euphoria as I careen toward the floor is the high I’m chasing. When the bass is so loud it rattles my heart in my chest and I’m thinking of absolutely nothing but the gravity pulling me down.
And I wonder if that’s what E
mma felt before she died. The hair-raising plummet that sends your heart up into your throat—adrenaline, laced with terror.
It’s a terrible thing to think about, but she was my twin—my other half. My mind won’t let me escape the thought, imagining how it must have felt to die in that crash.
The club goes wild as I land gracefully on the floor, transitioning with ease to all fours so I can shake my ass for the front row while I collect their bills in my G-string. After years of strict ballet training, allowing myself to move to the music is liberating. Spinning around to face my waiting patrons, I give the first guy what he wants and shake my tits in his face, before I turn to the next one.
Being low to the floor gives me a moment to scan the crowd a little more. The tables are all full, and there is a horde around both bars at the back. There seems to be a lot of ladies in the house tonight, which is good for me. They tip better.
Just as I start to look back at one of my other front row fans, my eyes suddenly land on a familiar face across the room.
I get regulars all the time. Faces tend to blend after a while, and I try to remember names and details from those I’ve danced for before. But this face is a different type of familiar. He’s not a regular. As far as I know, he’s never been in the club, and I’ve definitely never danced for him.
It’s a face from an old life I vaguely remember, from when I still had a sister. The world still made sense, and I wasn’t broken yet.
Nash Wilde is in my club, and his eyes are trained on my face.
My skin is on fire as I try to finish my set without looking at him again. I have to force a smile as I descend the stairs in front of the stage and greet the rest of my waiting patrons. Some of them request private dances or ask me to come sit with them for a moment. I play it sweet, promising I’ll find them after I get a drink. I never do this. I always stick around to get my private dances and extra tips, but right now I have one mission.
I need to get Nash out of here immediately. My cheeks burn under his gaze as I make my way over. He seems to be alone, standing with a drink in one hand. Seeing his face veiled with a scowl, it suddenly brings back memories of him at the funeral. I’ll never forget the expression he wore as we said goodbye to his only brother and my twin.
The ceremony was the most elegant event I’d ever been to, but I was too busy sobbing to be impressed by flower arrangements or elaborate catering. Meanwhile, across the aisle, what was left of the Wilde family stared on as if they weren’t living the worst day of their lives. As if every breath in their lungs wasn’t stained with grief and desperation. I remember searching their features for their sadness, desperate to know that mine was not alone, but what I found was an older man, stone cold and empty, and a son with a brow full of anger and a jaw clenched so tight it looked like it would crack.
It’s been two years since I laid eyes on either of the Wilde men, and now the youngest is standing at my place of work, staring at me while I have nothing on but a thong and some pasties.
Instead of making a scene that could get me in trouble, I touch his arm and lead him away down an empty hallway toward the private rooms.
“What are you doing here?” I snap, staring up at him. There’s a sway to his movement and a glazed look in his eye as he glares down at me.
“Zara York,” he mumbles, his speech slurred.
“Nash Wilde, what are you doing here?”
His lips curve upward as he gazes down at my tits, so I quickly cross my arms. “I haven’t seen you in so long.” Taking a step toward me, he boxes me in against the wall, and I glance back at the security guard watching from the end of the hallway. Putting my hands up, I gesture to him, so he knows I’m not being threatened or intimidated. I notice the way his shoulders tense as he watches.
“Why are you in town?” I ask.
“Business.”
The intensity of his eyes is unsettling. Being this close, the aroma of expensive cologne and cheap vodka fills my senses.
I want to call bullshit on his answer because I know Nash doesn’t do business—not anymore. Everyone in the country knows Nash Wilde doesn’t have any business. He used to. Once upon a time, he was a rising star in the industry his father pioneered. But now he only does girls, parties, drugs, and spending all of his daddy’s money. He’s not celebrity status, but he’s popular enough among the crowd of rich and famous trust fund babies that he can get whatever he wants, whenever he wants.
Preston was the partier in the family, and it would seem his surviving brother took up his vacated role. They used to be total opposites. Much like my twin was the polar opposite of me. Emma was the extrovert, with her sunshine-and-smiles demeanor and perfect grades who excelled at everything. I was the girl full of darkness who would never be as good as her twin. Everything came so easily to my sister, and while I loved ballet more than her, I would never be as good.
No matter how different we were, my sister and I were born from the same split egg, like we were two sides of one person—which only makes me feel like half a person now.
“I heard you were a stripper, and I had to see it for myself.”
The hungry look in his eyes should terrify me. In any other man, I’d be on guard and ready to bolt, but this is Nash. We never flirted or spoke intimately before, but for the two years Emma and Preston dated, we saw each other often, and I always assumed he wasn’t into me. He was too busy scowling to ever speak more than two words to me.
“Okay, you saw it. Why don’t you get the fuck out of here?” I glance around the crowd at the bar, hoping I spot someone looking for him. “Are you here alone?”
“Not anymore,” he growls with a slur. His hands brush my hips. “I want a lap dance.”
Chills race down my spine. He must see the panic in my expression because he leans in, putting his mouth next to my ear. “A private dance.”
He’s too close, and my body is on fire with his tall frame crowding me. I barely come up to his chest, so it doesn’t take much to feel like he could overpower me.
“All right, that’s enough.” A deep voice cuts in as the bodyguard wraps a hand around Nash’s arm, pulling him back. My mind screams no. I know Nash Wilde enough to know he doesn’t react well to being told what to do, and this is going to get out of hand fast.
“He’s fine. He’s with me,” I say, trying to jump in, but Nash is quick to react for a drunk person. His fist flies around in defense, and I cling to his arm as I spot it moving toward the bodyguard.
“Get your fucking hands off of me!”
Jumping between the men, I press Nash toward the exit. “He’s with me, I promise!”
The bodyguard’s nostrils flare and his eyes are full of anger. “You better get him the fuck out of here before I call the boss.”
“I will, I will.” I’m trying desperately to move him toward the door, but he presses back.
“I want my lap dance,” he drawls, his hooded gaze intent on my body.
“You’re going to get thrown out of here, Nash. Where are your friends? Who are you here with?”
His jaw clenches. “I’m here with you.”
Great, he’s alone.
“Let me order you an Uber back to your hotel.”
“I didn’t get a hotel.”
Fuck.
“Nash, where did you plan on sleeping tonight?”
His hand cascades down my body, brushing my bare ass, and I quickly slap it away before anyone sees. I need to get him out of here fast before he gets himself arrested, and this whole night ends with me being on the news.
“Oh my god, you’re Nash Wilde!” A girl who looks barely twenty-one saunters up to us with her phone aimed and at the ready—which is pretty strictly against the rules. I put up a hand to stop her, but one glance up at Nash and he clearly seems to brighten at the attention. A million dollar smile burns across his face, and his hands tighten around me, hugging me close like we’re posing for a picture.
“You’re so hot,” she giggles as she falls in
to him. His fingers drift toward her hair, and for a moment I think I’m saved. If I can get these two flirting, maybe I can dump him and let him be her problem. They both look drunk enough to spend the night on the floor of the bathroom.
“We were just leaving,” Nash says, and I let out a heavy sigh.
“Nash, I’m working. You need to go home.”
Ignoring the girl, he turns toward me. “I’m buying you for the rest of the night.”
The blonde’s eyes widen, and she sucks on her drink with a smile like she’s watching a reality show that resembles my nightmares.
“You can’t do that.” My hands land on his chest as I push him out of the crowd. He’s still hanging over me, impossibly close, and I feel every inch of him against my bare body.
Pressing his lips toward my ear again, he speaks so loudly everyone in a ten-foot radius can hear. “Twenty grand for the night.”
My heart stops in my chest. Looking up at him, I search his face for any sign he’s fucking with me. Twenty thousand dollars might be chump change to him, but that money could change my life—or at the very least my next six months.
“I’m not a prostitute, Nash,” I say a little too weakly. I’m not a prostitute, but twenty grand is a lot of money, and I just might be desperate enough. Blondie is still watching us like she’s part of our conversation.
“Get the fuck out of here,” I snap, and a few people turn their heads in our direction. Dammit, I’m going to get fired.