Текст книги "The Scheme"

Автор книги: Mia Kayla

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THE SCHEME

Mia Kayla

The Scheme

Copyright © 2015 by Mia Kayla

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover Designer:

Sommer Stein at Perfect Pair Creative

www.perfectpearcreative.com

Developmental Editor:

Angela Smith

www.thebookwhispererediting.com

Copy Editor:

Meghan Hand

Proofreading: Becky Johnson and Kayla Robichaux

www.hottreeediting.com

Formatting:

Christine Borgford at Perfectly Publishable

www.perfectlypublishable.com

Table of Contents

The Scheme

Dedication

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

Epilogue

Newsletter

Thank you!

Marry Me for Money

Acknowledgements

DEDICATION

To my grandfather…

Papalo, there is not a single day I don't think of you.

I miss you.

I love you.

And I know we'll see each other again.

PROLOGUE

“Welcome to Evangeline’s Psychic Readings. Come in young ones.” Evangeline’s tone was rough, like she was suffering from a sore throat, though her face was serious.

My voice barely squeaked a greeting. “H-hi, I’m Kendall and . . . this is Beth.”

The psychic’s eyes perused my cousin before intently locking on mine.

Beads of sweat formed on the back of my neck as anxiety rose within me. As I turned back to her, she reached out, took hold of my hand, and flipped it over, surprising me, then she glanced down at my palm.

With a light fingertip, she traced the lines before her knowing eyes met mine again. It was haunting, like she could see into my soul, which sent shivers down my spine. “Hmmm.” She reached for my other hand, flipping it over and staring intently as though memorizing every moment in my life through my skin. “Hmmm.”

That was all she said before a wicked smile popped up on her face and she turned toward a curtain of beads, which functioned as a door to another room. “Come on back.”

I wrapped my arms around my stomach as nervousness bubbled in my chest.

Everyone knew of Evangeline. She was it, the psychic who knew all. People drove from all over the nation to have their fortune told by this one woman. Not to mention I had saved money from my last two birthdays for my turn with her.

She gestured for me to sit on the red cushioned stool in front of the wooden table for two. Well-worn tarot cards were perfectly placed on the circular table.

The build up to this moment was too much to take. I inhaled deeply taking in the scent of the strong incense coming from her candles that lit up the room. I peered back at Beth, who stood by the curtain as I sat down. She wasn’t a believer, but I appreciated that she was here for moral support. Though this was about me and my future, I needed her here. I hoped her lack of faith didn’t block any truth waiting for me in the stars.

Evangeline patted the top of my hand resting on the table. “Relax, child.” Her gray eyes fixed me with a stare. “I know what you came here for.” She said it with such certainty that, for the first time in a very long time, hope filled my veins and a lightness spread throughout my limbs. “You want to know what the immediate future holds for your mother.”

I released a calming breath at her words, because that was only one of the reasons I’d come.

“More importantly,” she continued, “you want to know your own future and I—” An eerie, knowing grin spread across her face. “—know exactly how it will unfold.”

ONE

BRIAN

It’s said that nice guys finish last. Sure, I believed it. At least, that had been my experience thus far. So if that was true, what was the point of being nice? It didn’t get you anywhere. It didn’t get me this job. It didn’t pay the bills, and it sure as hell didn’t get me the girl.

Six months ago, I had left Chicago. Six months. And yet I still thought of her. She had jolted me to the core when we didn’t work out. Maybe because I thought she could’ve been the one.

Who the hell knew?

I guess this was what growing up with three sisters and watching Dad and Mom’s perfect marriage did to you. I was bound to want the same things they had. But I was too young to be thinking of forever. What twenty-five-year-old guy thought of anything other than getting laid?

Me.

I had issues.

On another boring Friday night, I was sitting on my damn couch. My ass hurt from sitting at work all day, and now, here I was—sitting. My beer was on the table as my laptop rested on my lap. I shook my head, breaking myself from my random thoughts, and focused on the task at hand. I needed to get this proposal done.

“Let’s go out, man. Get your ass off that damn couch.” Trey, my high school buddy and now New York roommate, swaggered into the living room, buttoning up his blue striped shirt. His black leather shoes tapped against the hardwood floor.

Trey had moved to Manhattan for college. We’d been through a lot together through the years. I loved him like my own sibling, but at times he was a pain in my ass.

I gave him a cursory look, noticing he was ready to hit the club while I sat back, television on low as I sipped my beer and worked. Tonight, I’d needed to get away from the office. I’d been there the last three Fridays past eight, and I was tired of staring at the walls of my four-by-four cubical.

Being a banker at Financial State Bank was no joke. Since I’d moved from Chicago to Manhattan, I’d been working nonstop, trying to expand my portfolio by bringing on more clients. I wasn’t a new banker by any means, but I was the rookie in this office. Starting over in Manhattan meant I had to prove myself to management all over again, when I’d already built a rapport in Chicago.

Checking himself in the living room mirror, Trey fixed the front of his dark brown hair and ran one hand down the front of his pressed cotton shirt. I fought the urge to laugh out loud. Trey was a preener. It was hilarious to watch, but I respected him for wanting to look nice, I guess.

“And here’s a guy who’s gonna have fun tonight.” He rubbed his chin, glanced back at the mirror, and then threw a look my way. “Let’s go!” He strolled toward the couch and shut my laptop. “Quit being so lame. What’re you doing anyway that can’t wait ’til Monday?”

I groaned. “Trust me; I’d much rather go out than do this shit all night, but I’ve got work to do.” I flipped open the screen and moved the mouse so I could study the analysis of the Tiggins Corporation. “I have to finish this write-up for credit.”

I felt Trey’s eyes narrowing on me. “Isn’t that shit your underwriter’s job? You’re such a sucker, man. You’re too nice.” He slammed my computer shut, harder this time, and almost right on my hands.

Sighing, I rested against the couch, picked up my beer, and chugged it back as the realization hit me that I had turned into an old man at the age of twenty-five.

I didn’t answer, because Trey was right. If this underwriter’s manager were to get hold of his lazy analysis, he’d be in deep water. A part of me believed I was completing his write-up to save his ass, which proved Trey’s point—I was a sucker. I’d bet my next paycheck that twenty-two-year-old underwriter was out getting shit-faced tonight, while I was staying at home doing his job.

I cranked my neck from side to side to let loose some of the tension building in me.

Trey snapped his fingers in front of my face, impatient. “What the hell? Let’s get going. Work’s not gonna get you laid.” He reached for my laptop and dropped it on the recliner. “Get your ass changed. I’m not taking no for an answer tonight.”

The look on his face told me he’d drag me out by my balls if I didn’t comply, so I stood. “Chill, I’m going, okay?”

I needed this anyway. For once, I didn’t want to think about Beth, the girl who had left me brokenhearted. I didn’t want to think of work, either. I needed to let loose.

I ran one hand down my face, releasing a heavy sigh, and headed to my room to get ready. Trey smirked as I walked past him, knowing he’d won.

Yeah, yeah.

***

KENDY

I rested against the counter, my arms crossed over my more than plentiful chest, and released a silent sigh as my eyes zoned and took in all of Dr. James Klein—tall, dark, and hot as mother freaking hell itself.

I swallowed my saliva down, preventing a drool pool from leaking out of the side of my mouth. If I didn’t have any self-control, I would’ve been panting like a dog at his total hotness.

Oh, Dr. Hot Pants, I have the biggest crush on you.

I recited this little chant in my head often.

He was at the nurses’ station, studying his clipboard, most likely for his next patient. Maybe I could break a bone, catch some sort of virus, anything to get him to notice me. Because I noticed him every second of our evening shift together. I practically dreamed about him in my sleep.

I worked the evening shift—seven p.m. to seven a.m. Lucky for me, I had seven more hours to ogle him.

Right now, I needed his white jacket off so I could check out his ass again. I’d coined him Dr. Hot Pants with the fine ass. And oh, was he super fine.

Since I’d moved to New York a month ago from my small town of Bowlesville, Illinois, I knew my life would be turning up with better opportunities. I was meant for more than the local hospital, where the most excitement that had happened was when our sheriff shot his own foot by accident.

I sighed heavily at the hunk of a man in front of me. As soon as I stepped onto the emergency room floor that first day as an employed nurse of New York Cornell Hospital, I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Dr. James Klein would belong to me, my husband-to-be.

He just didn’t know it yet, but that didn’t matter. I had a plan, and it included a house, marriage, and a baby carriage. At least, I hoped so.

When he started strolling my way, I straightened and adjusted my push-up bra. The way his wavy brown hair moved when he walked made my heart race in my chest. What I wouldn’t give to run my fingers through his locks.

When he approached a few feet away, I pretended to look at my clipboard as I stood directly in his path. On purpose.

“How are you today, Kendall?” he asked, his tone smooth like silk.

I’d made it my point in life to turn his tone into hot, hoarse, and heavy, and more importantly, I wanted him screaming my name so even his neighbors knew who I was.

Patience, Kendy, patience.

“Good. Slow night tonight.” I threw him my sweet smile and popped out my hip in a Kendy-like fashion, meeting his hot hazel eyes in the process. I tilted slightly to accentuate my curves, subtle, but not over-exaggerated. I wasn’t normally this flirty, but I needed to step it up a notch if I wanted his attention.

He moved in closer, smiling his ever-charming smile, which made my breath hitch in my throat. “Yeah, hopefully the slow night continues.” He winked.

“I thought you loved all the excitement in the ER,” I said kiddingly.

“Oh, Miss Kendall, I prefer my excitement outside the ER.” The huskiness in his voice and his flirty stare increased my pulse rate.

Oh, my goodness gracious.

I bit down on the inside of my cheek to prevent my smile from widening.

He took a step back then peered down at his watch. “I’m going to make my rounds and hopefully cut out to the cafeteria for a snack.”

“I’m an evening muncher myself,” I joked, trying to give him a hint.

He smiled quickly, but then strode past me and down the hall.

Men.

I huffed out loud just when he was out of hearing range. Sometimes he was hot, yet other times he was ice cold.

Is he oblivious to the fact I’m crushing on him?

I frowned and crossed my arms, having my own little pity party. If I wasn’t twenty-four, I’d drop to the ground and pound my feet on the floor like a three-year-old.

I had tried everything in my Kendy Book of Tricks to get him to notice me. I’d constantly showed up wherever he was, since I knew when his breaks were. He’d turn around and then bam, I’d be there. Did he think it was purely coincidental? He seemed genuinely happy to see me and chat, yet he’d never asked me out.

A woman could only smile so much in his presence. My cheeks hurt from my overly flirty grin. And to top it all off, I had purposely bought smaller scrubs to accentuate my curves. You’d think I’d get some sort of reaction out of him. Damn elastic made ridges against my stomach, but still . . .

Nada. Nothing. Zilch.

Maybe I’d have to change my approach, tone down The Kendy. Be sweeter, more innocent? Maybe he had to be the one to make the first move?

Yeah, that was probably it. He gave me the impression he didn’t like the aggressive type. After all, a man needed to feel like a man.

Luckily for him, I was sugary and sweet with a touch of spice underneath to keep things exciting all day and all night long.

With a hopeful grin, I watched him disappear down the hall. As my confidence returned, I flipped my blonde locks over my shoulder and stopped pouting. I knew what had to be done.

***

BRIAN

I surveyed my surroundings at the Clipper Night Club. The laser lights blinded me as I strolled past security. We had waited almost an hour to get in. Funny how women, if in a group, were allowed easy access, but us guys had to wait outside in line like kids waiting to enter Disney World. No wonder they called this the Meatpacking District. Men swarmed like flies around the hot women here.

I stepped into the club and sighed heavily as I took in the crowd. I realized the wait wasn’t worth it. I should’ve kept my ass at home and gotten that proposal for Tiggins Corp done. Then I’d have less to worry about come Monday morning. If I intended on getting the promotion, I needed to land this deal.

I tipped my beer back, trying to drive out thoughts of work.

Well, you’re already out. Let it go.

I loosened the collar of my button down. The amount of people jammed in the club made this place feel like a sweat lodge. The bass from the music echoed throughout the warehouse, thumping under my feet. That alone should have loosened me up, but it didn’t. I let my eyes stray to the cluster of attractive women on the dance floor, swaying in a group.

The scene grew old quickly. I had done this life in college and post-college. I wasn’t a saint by any means. A couple years ago, I would’ve strolled to the middle of the group, thrown the women some lines, bought them a bunch of drinks, and gotten my game on.

Tonight, I wasn’t in the mood to try too hard. Maybe it was the deal I was trying to land at work, maybe it was getting older, or maybe I was just tired of the same shit, weekend after weekend.

I followed Trey to the bar, where he tried to squeeze through the mass to order us a round of drinks. The bartender, an attractive brunette, was serving the patrons in front of her. I moved in behind Trey, studying the intricate tattoo of a snake wrapped around her arm, which ended at the top of her wrist.

“I’m going to get your ass drunk tonight, loosen you up. We’re gonna have a good time, you hear me?” He raised his hand to get the bartender’s attention.

She ducked her head to take his order and proceeded to get our beverages. Trey threw some change on the bar and passed me my beer, then we headed to a less crowded area as the laser lights illuminated the space while the music blared in the background.

Trey’s eyes roamed our vicinity. “BB, twelve o’clock. Dude, she’s looking this way.”

BB, meaning beautiful blonde. In high school we used to talk with abbreviations to get our game on. He pointed his beer bottle in her direction, and she smiled back at us.

“Blonde? Not my type.” When pictures of a brunette with emerald eyes entered my mind, I rubbed the back of my neck and shook my head to bring me back to the present.

“Come on. You’ve been in town for months, and you haven’t met any ladies. You’re dick is gonna fall off from lack of use. Let’s do this.” He lifted his fist, waiting for me to fist-bump.

After a beat, I complied and connected my fist to his. “You go.” I cocked my head in the girl’s direction. “She’s more your type.”

Trey winced. “That was high school. I don’t do blondes anymore.”

I recognized the hint of hurt in his voice. Shit. I should’ve caught myself before I spoke.

Trey had dated my younger sister, Katelyn, for three years. Blonde, blue eyes, and beautiful. We’d gone to the same high school together in Wisconsin, but he’d up and moved to NYC to go to college and eventually work for his father.

I still didn’t know what had happened between them, but from what I understood, he’d been the one left brokenhearted. If it had been the other way around and my sister had been heartbroken, he’d have gotten an ass-whipping. Being the older brother of three sisters, I’d always been overprotective.

But Trey didn’t like to talk about that time in his life; therefore, I didn’t force the issue.

He sat down on a stool next to me, his light and ready-to-party demeanor from a second ago now gone. This was turning into a sad night real fast. I tipped my beer all the way back, glancing back at the BB. It wasn’t that I didn’t have game. I was just tired of playing.

But for my boy, I’d do just about anything. I needed to lighten the atmosphere, so I zoned in on the blonde and took a deep breath. “All right then. Let me show you how it’s done.” I patted Trey’s shoulder and stood.

Trey perked up immediately and slapped my back before I strode to the other side of the room.

The blonde was attractive, but in a slightly fake way. Thick makeup caked her face and bright crimson lipstick lined her lips. Up close, I could tell she was a bottle blonde. She reeked of wealth. I’d seen it many times before. The ladies of Manhattan liked to flaunt their belongings and their assets.

I focused automatically on the curvature of her breasts. Her V-neck halter made it known she wanted everyone to notice her body.

I debated turning back around since I didn’t have time to think of a pick-up line, but she beat me to the punch. “Hey, handsome, you come over here to buy me a drink?” She touched my arm and angled forward so I could get a closer peek at her chest.

“What you having, beautiful?” I nodded in her direction.

She forced out a high-pitched laugh, and my eyes roamed up her slim, yet voluptuous figure. I knew what she’d come here for. Sitting at the bar, no girlfriends.

I didn’t want to assume, but hell, her body language was spelling it all out. She’d come here to get laid.

Maybe I should’ve been upfront: Let’s go to the bathroom and get it done. Still, the Midwestern boy in me knew there was a process to these things.

“I’ll have a gin and tonic.” The lilt in her voice sounded soft, cute, and somehow disconnected to her overdone appearance.

Part of me still wanted to walk away, but then Trey gave me a smirking nod from down the bar and I sucked it up once again.

After I ordered her a cocktail and another beer for myself, I leaned against the bar next to her. “Why are you here all by yourself? I know you women travel in packs.” I forced a suave smile, my normal bravado lacking.

Her red manicured fingers inched up my chest. “I’m glad they’re not here because I’m sure we would’ve had to draw straws for you.” She laughed softly and batted her eyelashes. Her eyes held a sensual flame as they roamed up my body. “You’re not from around here; I can tell. I’ve never seen you in here.”

“I don’t get out much.” I tipped back my beer as I threw her my smooth smile, but when my eyes met hers, my stomach sank, because there was nothing—no spark—and I knew I’d already grown tired of a conversation that had only just begun. How was it possible to feel lonely when this woman was standing right in front of me?

“I just moved here from Chicago. Moved in with my best friend.” I tilted my head in Trey’s direction, who was already chatting up another woman, a brunette with a short bob. By the way she angled toward him, I could tell my boy was doing well. “How about you? You grow up here?”

“Born and raised in Manhattan. Most people here are transfers, but this is the place I call home.” She crossed her legs, her skirt hitching up higher on her thighs. “I didn’t catch your name. I’m Denise.” A flirtatious smile crossed her face as she seductively bit her lower lip.

I gave her my name and downed the rest of my beer. I could tell this girl knew what she wanted, and I wasn’t about to tell her no.

***

Four beers and three cocktails later, Trey disappeared, nowhere to be seen. But Denise had just delved into her aspirations of becoming a model. She was on the hunt, currently scouting agents, and her mother served as her manager.

I’d found out that she was barely of drinking age, which had surprised me. She looked mid-twenties with all that caked on makeup. Too bad, because under all that grime I could see the attractiveness of her small features. It was unfortunate she felt the need to cover it up.

She angled into me for the millionth time, practically sitting in my lap. I got another whiff of her strong expensive perfume and barely stopped myself from coughing.

Her eyes glossed over, and I had to admit that I, too, was well into the hella-good zone. She giggled at everything I spilled out, and when she peered up at me with her dark-as-night pupils, I cupped the side of her face and kissed her.

Instantly, she opened her mouth to let me in and, within the next few seconds, her hand had moved down the front of my jeans. My cock stiffened on contact.

We made out for a couple minutes as she continued to give me a hand job. I teased and suckled her lips as my cock strained against my pants, needing to break free.

And then she pulled back, breathless. “Wanna get out of here?” she slurred.

My eyes met hers then flickered to her lips. I felt nothing. Absolutely nothing when I kissed her. Maybe this was a good thing.

“My place is just down the street,” she said sweetly as her hand brushed against the bulge in my jeans.

Shit. I wanted this, but I didn’t.

I hadn’t gotten laid in a while, and all of me needed this. But I didn’t need complications, especially since my last relationship had failed. I wasn’t ready for anything serious. I didn’t have time for that with my responsibilities at work.

Judging from the smirk on her face, it didn’t seem like she was looking for a relationship either. We were the perfect detached duo looking for a little excitement.

I nodded. “Yeah, let’s get out of here.” I reached for her hand and scanned the place for Trey. If I left, he’d know what happened. Hell, he’d probably wished this on me, since I’d been working like a dog. If anything, he had the same plan in mind for tonight.

We were about to exit, when I jerked to a stop. I glanced dazedly behind me to find a massive, tattooed male in a leather vest, gripping Denise’s other hand and staring at me like he wanted to stuff my balls in my mouth.

Oh hell.

He shot daggers at Denise. “What’re you doing here? I thought you were staying in tonight.” His tone seethed with mounting rage.

I released her hand, unable to bite back the guilt. ‘Sorry, dude, you’ve just been played,’ didn’t even need to be said. I’d been there.

I turned, about to leave them to handle their business, when he twisted her arm and her face registered pain. “You fucking whore! Is this the guy you’re screwing?”

“Stop, Damon. You’re hurting me,” she yelped. “Let go!” She yanked her arm back, but couldn’t budge as the man, I assumed to be her boyfriend, crushed her skinny arm in his grasp.

Watching him sobered me up real quick. Okay, so I wasn’t the most standup guy out there, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to witness this prick hurt her.

I stepped in between them, straightening my stance. “Listen, the lady said let her go.” My voice was firm as I squared my shoulders, sizing him up.

He released her with a growl, and I tilted my head to take in his height. He had a few inches on me, but we had the same build. I’d taken down guys bigger than him before, but I wasn’t expecting his aggression to escalate to a fight.

“Why the hell are you with my girl?” he growled, the veins on his neck bulging.

Before I even had a chance to respond—POW! In the face.

Surprised, I staggered back. My hand flew to my eye as pulsing pain rushed to the surface, the brass ring on his middle finger most likely leaving an indentation on my skin. The stickiness of blood gushed down my face.

Great, just fucking great.

I pulled back my arm, ready to fire back and beat the shit out of this bastard, but then Denise sheltered him with her body, saying to him in a panic, “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.”

He narrowed his eyes at me until she threw herself at him and started kissing his face, running her hands up and down his shoulders.

I blinked and shook my head at the comedy of this scene, then let out a low, humorless laugh as the taste of iron hit my mouth.

When I felt someone behind me, I automatically brought up my fists, ready to spring into action in case his friends wanted to play ‘beat the nice guy.’

“Whoa, dude, it’s me.” Trey was behind me with his hands up as if he was about to be the victim of my aggression. “You’ll bleed dry if I don’t get you to a hospital.”

I groaned, knowing from the pain and the amount of blood oozing from above my eyebrow I’d probably need stitches. Having played football throughout high school and being the rambunctious kid that I’d been, I was familiar with the protocol. I unbuttoned my shirt, jumbled it into a ball, and applied pressure to the wound.

Shithead wasn’t worth it. I could’ve taken him, but I needed to get fixed up and head home. Shit, I should’ve just stayed home, in front of my damn computer. Less drama.

“You’ll need stitches,” Trey said, following me out.

“Yeah, I know,” I muttered.

Life was a bitch sometimes.

More recently, it seemed that bitch was intent on taking me down.