Faced by life-altering choices...
Bryde Watkins, former playgirl and heiress to a billion-dollar empire, prefers a simpler life, living under the radar...until her family's business is threatened by one powerful man--Bryant Osgoode. When Bryde finds...
"Holy shit!" Ladies and gentlemen, my best friend, Sam Cole.
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Her eyes widened, confusion filling them as she gawped at me. We were both dumbfounded by what had happened less than hour ago. Although I preferred she was dressed. Sam wasn't shy; case in point, she opened her apartment door naked as the day we were both born.
I burst past her and right into a porn scene. A man, also in his birthday suit, sprawled, had his hands and legs tied to the four-poster bed in Sam's bedroom, where she'd forgotten to close the damn door.
"Hey there!" he greeted.
"Sam!" I chastised my bestie, turning on my heel.
She flicked her hand in the air while rolling her eyes at me. "It's just Ben. Don't mind him."
"Name's Jason!" yelled the man on the bed.
Sam stomped in all her naked glory to the bedroom door, a hand steady on her hip. "Really?"
"Yeah...you don't remember?"
Sam shrugged. "Eh. Be quiet and I'll give you a treat later." She closed the door and traipsed to her kitchen, grabbed the bottle of wine from the counter and two glasses from the dishwasher.
I couldn't settle down. My heart was running a freaking marathon. My mind wandered back to his Cheaters Club suite. To the achingly beautiful man, who, if I was being honest, was quite delusional to think I would accept his ridiculous proposal. Was he for real? He certainly caught me off guard, and all I could do was stare at him in disbelief. Then I laughed again. Laughed at his face.
That laughter died down when his expression didn't change. No, that was wrong. The gravity of the situation was evident on his face, then it morphed into anger...and who the hell knew what else. Bet your ass, I skedaddled out of there before he roped me back into the insanity that he obviously lived in, and headed straight to Sam's place.
Sam took position on the chaise lounge, still unabashedly nude, and patted the space by her legs. "Tell me the good stuff."
"Are you going to stay like that the entire time we're talking?" I spread my hands in front of me.
"What? I worked my ass off to look this fucking good. It's not like you haven't seen these goods." She waggled her eyebrows.
"Yeah, but we were seven then." I grabbed the afghan slung over her couch and covered her with it.
She huffed, and poured wine into the glasses. "You've changed."
"So I've been told." I settled beside her and accepted the first glass, downing it like it was from the fountain of youth and I was that old woman from Titanic. I handed her the empty glass once I was done and she refilled it before giving it back to me.
