The Playboy's Crush By Deborah A. Olaleye

Prologue

Copyright ©2023 by Deborah A. Olaleye
All rights reserved.

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

Whatever had propelled him to go after the lady, who didn't look any human but a fallen angel, even after the it's-a-playboy's-thing tease he had made with his friend, Shane couldn't point it out.

He had gone to Adrian Stone's bachelor party, which to him would be far more entertaining than the formal wedding party he planned on having, with his friend, Derrari, who was also Adrian's partner in business.

Derrari had been friends with Adrian since either their high school or college days. Whichever it was, he didn't care, and he had known Adrian through him.

Shane sat with his friend, Derrari, and a glass of wine before each of them, both taking into observation each lady that walked by.

He swept his tongue over his lip at the sight of a slim, well-shaped brunette with beautiful long legs that moved gracefully in heels.

"Stop staring at her, will you?" Derrari said, his gaze fixed on the lady's swaying buttocks.

"You can't resist her either. She's hot," Shane said, looking away from the direction the lady was headed when she was out of sight.

"Oh! I can," Derrari said. "But I'm sure she can't resist my good looks."

"Quit fooling yourself. You're getting old, man. This," he said, brushing his finger across his face, "is the real pretty face." He sat up, positioning himself with an aura of pride around him.

Derrari sneered. "Pretty face indeed. That doesn't win the game anymore. What scores is the money-the cash. Ladies will line up to get your attention with the abundance of that in your hands."

"But there's no denying the fact that every lady's dream is to have a Prince Charming, desperate to win her love, down on his knee, with a ring ready in his hand," he said with a faux dreamy expression on his face.

"Quit talking rubbish. Women's main foresight is money, and everything about them is money. Money first, then, maybe, Prince Charming."

"I agree with you on that," Shane said, raising his cup to his mouth and taking a drink from his wine.

Derrari's gaze swept through the throngs of people in the bar, both men and women, in a wild frenzy.

Hoots and whistles erupted at the sight of a stripper twirling and dancing seductively on stage.

One of the men staggered up to the stage, grabbed the stripper to himself, and splayed his hands over her body while she danced.

"Wow!" Derrari muttered under his breath as he stared at the lone angel that sat at the counter.

Shane followed his gaze and reacted as Derrari had done, a "Wow!" escaping his mouth as well.

Although he could only glimpse a side view of her face, he knew it when he saw something extraordinarily beautiful.

"Stay away from her, Shane," Derrari warned. "You're more bad luck than whatever got her in that pensive mood she's in."

"Says who?"

"Let me approach her. I'm better at this than you are."

"That's obvious." Shane nodded sarcastically.