Vista Marquis is in my home. In my bed. I don’t know how to deal with that right now, which is why I’ve spent the evening getting plastered. If I surround myself with enough distractions, numb all the shit her being here dredges up, then I might actually be able to keep myself from climbing into her bed and fucking her senseless. Assuming I can make it up the stairs, that is.
Damn this cast. Damn the asshole that can’t kick a ball for shit. Damn my father for making me do this. Fracturing my tibia has thrown a wrench into my plans, setting me back months with everything from managers to investors, but it’s also given me a break I hadn’t anticipated.
Damn, Vista’s grown up. She’s always been a knockout, but the years have treated her kind. I honestly didn’t know what to expect to find when she got here, but it certainly wasn’t the bombshell I was presented with.
Since I checked in at the front desk on my way up, I already knew she had arrived. I’d just hoped she’d be in bed by now so I wouldn’t have to deal with another headache. On the off chance she wasn’t, Victor and the groupies we picked up earlier were supposed to provide a buffer, something to keep me occupied. I never expected to walk in and find her sitting on my couch, looking sexy as fuck. Without a bra.
Jesus, I can still picture those perky tits in my head. Those little nipples poking through the thin cotton, begging for attention. Begging for my mouth, my tongue. And that hair. Goddamn. My palms itch just thinking about running them through all that long, honey brown hair.
It’s a distraction I hadn’t planned on and definitely don’t need. I should have one of these broads bent over the arm of my couch right now, instead of offering them another drink. I definitely shouldn’t be thinking about Vista. Or the way she looked up at me with those expressive brown eyes when I twisted a lock of her hair around my finger. She was on fire, practically begging me to touch her, to taste her. At that moment, I would have buried myself between her silky thighs if she’d asked me to. Forcing myself to calm the fuck down and back away had been nearly impossible, until she opened her mouth and broke the spell.
I knew having Vista here was going to be a problem, but I thought the years of separation would provide the buffer I needed. Quell the thirst. Boy, was I wrong.
Four years ago, I buried every thought and feeling I had for Vista Marquis in a slew of women and booze and never looked back. Aside from the dreams I can’t control, the method had a near one hundred percent success rate so long as I remained awake. To that extent, I haven’t given her a single thought in four years.
Until my father asked me to do a favor for his wife.
In my world, everyone knows that when David Black asks for something, he’s not asking. He’s telling. If it had been any other person, I would have told them to take a hike. Levi Black doesn’t do favors. But when it comes to my father, people listen and fall in line because those who cross him generally aren’t heard from again. Not in the sense that they’re buried six feet under in an unmarked grave. Nothing as sinister as that. But David Black has connections. He gets his way, one way or another, and when he doesn’t, he knows the right strings to pull to reduce a person to nothing. Many in the business world have crashed and burned in his wake, and he didn’t even have to break a sweat.
Do I fear my father? I’d be stupid not to. If not for him, I wouldn’t be where I am now or have the things that I have. He’s an unstoppable force in the business world. He makes things happen. And he can make them “unhappen” just as easily.
My gaze lingers on the staircase where Vista disappeared, and I can’t stop the barrage of memories that hit me. Her quiet sighs in my ear. The sweet taste of her skin on my tongue. The shimmer in her eyes when she walked away from me. They’re as fresh and new as when they happened. I’ve spent this long ignoring all of it, avoiding the memories, drinking and fucking them away, but this time they refuse to return to the black box I keep them locked in. All it took was seeing her again, and I’m transported back to when I was a teenager, a rising soccer player with a scholarship and his whole future laid out for him.
Before Vista and her mother came along and fucked it all up.
It’s a good thing one of us is thinking clearly tonight. Even as kids, Vista was on the fast track to success. She had goals, dreams, and aspirations. There was never room in her life for someone like me—a cocky, self-assured playboy with a reputation. When I cut her loose that night, I did us both a favor. Now, she’s free to pursue her career, and I’m free to live my life without having to worry about disappointing someone. Being connected to a woman means expectations, and I’m not ready to be tied down. Vista is the only girl who’s ever challenged me to think differently, so it’s a good thing I got out when I did. I regret everything that happened between us. It’s put a stain on everything, including my relationship with my father. He’s never looked at me the same. I’ve damaged the trust, changed his view of me. Not that it’s much of a loss.
“You’ll end this now and that’s the last I’ll hear of it.” I hear his words in my head all over again. They transport me back to a place and time I don’t want to think about. My hands clench around the crutches before I realize I’m even angry. There’s no point in dredging up old memories, though. It’s just wasted energy.
One month. After I got busted up, my father hired the best nurses available to see to my care at home. While it was nice having someone pretend they gave a damn, it grew exhausting trying to keep up the nice guy act when I felt like shit. So I didn’t. Thankfully, my father knows what palms to grease. Over the last few months, the penthouse has been turned into a revolving door of healthcare workers.
But now, that’s all changed. Once the cast comes off, Vista will step in, taking on the responsibility of getting me back on my feet and back in action. I can’t fucking wait. Accustomed to an active lifestyle, I’m not used to so much free time. I’ve been spinning my wheels for so long I’m beginning to feel like a hamster in one of those plastic wheels—going nowhere fast.
I miss the field. I miss the smell of the dirt, the feel of the sun bearing down on me, the sound of the fans chanting my name in the stands. What I don’t miss is everything in between—the coaches yelling in my ear, my father berating me when I miss a goal, never being home, the constant grind to stay on top of every second of my life so I’m always ready to move. It’s just not the same anymore, which is why I’ve been reconsidering my future, but I need to get back on my feet before I make any life-changing decisions.
As eager as I am to get back to normal, I can’t say I’m overly thrilled about who’s going to help me get there. When my stepmother, Lara, heard that her husband was shopping around for a skilled physical therapist that wasn’t easily scared off, she jumped at the opportunity to shove her daughter under his nose. She’s under the impression that Vista needs to build a prestigious portfolio to give her an edge in the business—as if being connected to the family name won’t get her places all on its own—and who better to start her on her path than yours truly? Of course, my father is on board. Anything to make his bride happy. More like anything to shut her up, keep her occupied, so he doesn’t have to.
“I don’t want a repeat of what happened last time.”
The warning he issued alongside his order when he called to tell me what was going to happen is fresh and forefront in my mind. At least, it was, up until the moment I set eyes on the very person who made that warning necessary.
Holy shit. I don’t know if I can do this. Vista is a problem. My problem. Having her here, in my home, is going to change everything.
Who am I kidding? It already has. But it doesn’t have to, a voice in my head whispers.
One month.
That’s all I have to get through, and then my life can return to normal. I can go back to pretending she doesn’t exist, doesn’t matter.
One month. I repeat the words in my head until they’re keeping time with the beat of my heart. They’re my new mantra.
One month.
One month.
Piece of cake.
Now all I have to do is believe the lie.
“Unless you’ve developed an unhealthy attraction to stairs I don’t know about, quit staring into space and get over here, jackass,” Vincent calls out. “I’m not a one man circus. Help me keep these bitches entertained.”
The women gasp as if offended by Vincent’s crassness, but they’re not. They are bitches, and they know it. Hell, they’ve made it an art. It’s what makes them attractive to men—being unattainable.
Except to me.
Being who I am, women like them are a dime a dozen, which grew boring ten minutes ago.
I stare up at the empty staircase for a moment longer before kicking a crutch out behind me and twisting around to join the party with the realization that choking down the lie is going to be damn near impossible.
I can’t ignore the hollow ache in my stomach that’s formed from just seeing her any more than I can ignore the throbbing pulse that’s demanding attention in my jeans.
Vista Marquis thinks a few stairs can keep me from getting to her? Then she doesn’t really know me.
I can obtain anything I want.
I’m Levi-fucking-Black, and just like my father, I make shit happen.
