Playing Dirty Read online

  “Exactly my point. I really don’t think the both of us can fit in there, what with his big, stupid, egotistical head and all.” I sounded more like a child throwing a tantrum than a grown woman with a client list talented enough to form their own major league every sports team. Thank God no one else could hear me. Especially Shaw.

  “Just ignore him.” As if that were even a possibility.

  Shaw Matthews was one of those people. That person others naturally gravitated toward in order to bask in his presence and maybe siphon off even the tiniest bit of his energy. You’d think he was the sun or something. And because the universe had some sort of vendetta against me, he just had to be good-looking on top of all that: six foot two with the body of a cover model, a strong jawline set with confidence, and eyes so blue, so hypnotic, you dared not gaze directly into them. And that bedhead of October brown hair always made him look like he’d just stolen a minute or two in the supply closet with a random woman. If the rumors around the office were true, he probably had. Money, looks, savoir faire; he had it all. And now he wanted my job, too.

  “Ignoring Shaw Matthews is a little easier said than done.” I went to my desk and grabbed my purse from the bottom drawer, stuffing it into my bag. “He and I have a meeting scheduled with Denver Rockford tomorrow afternoon, so I’ll have to endure the suffering. I know you’ve already been putting that talented little search engine of yours to work to find out any and everything you can about him.” I stopped short. “Oh, yeah. That’s how you manage to keep your job.” Ally was the best of the best, my most accomplished protégée. Okay, so she was my only protégée.

  “What?”

  I shook my head to get back on track. “Nothing.”

  A knock sounded on my door, and I sighed in frustration. I just wanted this day to be over with already. But when the door opened without invitation and my boss walked in like he owned the place—in fact, he did—I put on my best smile.

  “I know you’re probably ready to leave, but I’d like a moment of your time,” he said.

  “Of course, Wade,” I answered, nodding to Ally to excuse herself, which she did on cue. “Have a seat.”

  He waved my offer off. “It’s not really necessary.” His hands slipped into his pockets, and he rocked back on his heels as if trying to come up with his next words. “Cassidy, it’s no secret that you’ve always been my favorite, preferential treatment be damned.”

  It was true, though he’d never handed me anything I hadn’t earned.

  “Just as it’s no secret that Shaw was Monty’s,” he continued. “What no one else knows is that Monty had been grooming Matthews to take his place when he retired.”

  Oh. That was certainly news to me. It suddenly felt like the world had tilted on its axis, forcing me to inconspicuously grab the corner of my desk to balance myself. Talk about a punch to the gut.

  “In fact, Monty had been ready to name him partner, until I convinced him otherwise.”

  “What do you mean, sir?” I was surprised that the tremble I felt in my bones hadn’t made its way into my voice.

  “Monty and I founded Striker together, and I insisted that we make the decision jointly. I wanted you, and he wanted Matthews. We were at an impasse. We also knew we only had one shot at getting Rockford. Normally we wouldn’t pit agent against agent, but we realized that by doing so, we’d broaden our chances from one shot to two. So, together, we came up with the idea of the competition.

  “The way I saw it, at least then you’d have a chance at the partnership. Every single staff member knows you deserve it. Monty knows as well, so don’t be upset with him, kiddo. But,” he said with a finger in the air. “I want you to make sure you win.”

  “That’s not going to be a problem, sir,” I assured him, though I was confused as to why he needed assurance after all the major deals I’d secured for SSE.

  Wade nodded and eased his hand back into his pocket. “It’s not that I don’t have faith in you, Whalen. It’s quite the opposite, in fact. I know what you’re capable of, so I’ve put my best against Monty’s best. And I don’t think I need to tell you that I hate to lose.”

  “No, sir, you do not.”

  “Good. That’s why I’m going to stress this.” He leveled a look at me that commanded attention. “Bring home that win. By any means necessary. Do you understand?”

  I nodded, but that didn’t seem to be good enough for my boss.

  “Say it.”

  “I will bring home the win by any means necessary.”

  “Any means,” he reiterated.

  I wasn’t dim. He meant even if I had to fight dirty.

  Setting a determined chin, I nodded again. “Failure is never an option for me, sir.”

  He smiled, the tension in his frame easing. “I’m glad we had this talk, but I wouldn’t want anyone else to know about it.”

  “Understood.”

  “Now get out of here, kid. I want you well rested for your meeting tomorrow.” His wink was conspiratorial, every bit as inappropriate as if it had been flirtatious, but I didn’t take offense.

  Wade exited then, leaving the door open for me to follow, which I did after gathering my things again. Ally was still at her desk, and I felt bad about keeping her later than usual, but I knew she’d never go home before I did. Maybe she was a little sassy-mouth, but no other assistant could fill her shoes.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked.

  “Perfect.” Even if she didn’t believe me, she’d never press. “Email me everything you’ve got on Rockford, and I’ll go over it during the car ride tomorrow afternoon. Maybe if I look busy, Matthews won’t try to talk to me.”

  Ally snorted. Actually snorted. “Who are you kidding, Cass? The second the news broke that the marriage between Denver and his agent was on shaky ground, you knew everything there was to know about him. And you’ll be poring over every single detail of it tonight, probably not getting a wink of sleep.” She knew me well. “You work too hard.”

  “There’s no such thing. Da and Ma worked their fingers to the bone to give me this opportunity. I’ll not be squandering it.”

  The picture that sat on the corner of the desk caught my eye, and a familiar longing punched at my chest. My parents weren’t the only ones who had been left behind. I hadn’t had a lot of friends while growing up, but Casey was my absolute best. Not a day went by that I didn’t think about him or wish he were there to tell me one of his lame jokes. No one understood me like he did, though I had some pretty terrific friends who came pretty close, and they were waiting for me at our spot.

  “I need a drink. Have a good night, and I’ll see you in the morning.” With any luck, I’d survive the rest of the evening without having to look at Shaw’s stupid face.

  Lady Luck was a fickle bitch, and Irony was her sadistic sidekick.

  Monkey Business was a neighborhood pub that had an old-world Irish feel, with the traditional emerald-green and gold trim, dark wood everything, and a menu that boasted a selection of ale even the most snooty of beer snobs could appreciate. It could’ve been on any street corner, but as it happened, it was halfway between the place where I made a living and the place where I laid my head at night. And it was more like a second home to me than my own apartment. Which was exactly the reason it irked me when I cracked the door only to hear his voice. Of all the taverns, pubs, and bars in San Diego, Shaw Matthews had to hang out in mine. I was convinced he did it on purpose, but I refused to let him run me off. After all, I had been there first.

  “Hey, Cass! The usual?” Chaz, my bartender friend, asked as I made my way through the happy hour crowd to get to our table. A nod was all the answer he needed. And the follow-up eye roll when I spotted his buddy Shaw occupying the bar stool in front of him reaffirmed the fact that I still didn’t approve of his choice of besties, to which he only smiled and shook his head.

  Chaz was a chiseled mountain of a man with a perfectly rounded bald head, soft baby blues, and a pristine smile. For some
one who didn’t know him, the body ink and piercings might have been intimidating, but Chaz was an all-around good guy. Like a lot of bartenders, he had a worldly sort of wisdom about him, so I couldn’t quite figure out why he kept the company of someone as superficial as Shaw. I could only assume that Shaw had said something similar yet different about me, because every now and then Chaz liked to remind me that he was Switzerland in this war that wasn’t really a war.

  On the far side of the room and near the left corner of the bar was a table of rich, dark wood with a glossy top. Four unmatched chairs sat in an arch so that none of their backs were to the crowd but, instead, each seat had a perfect view of the entire room. My friends and I liked to people-watch. We also liked to keep an eye on anyone who might be eavesdropping on our own conversations. The proximity to Chaz and the bar was another perk. At the beginning of his shift, our bartender friend always did us a solid by placing the Reserved sign on the table in the alcove to ensure that we would never have to kick anyone out of it. Well, Demi would probably be the one doing the physical work.

  Demi Renée was as sweet as sweet could be, as long as she called you friend. Not that she was a royal bitch to strangers, but if someone rubbed her the wrong way, they’d soon wish they hadn’t. Demi led self-defense classes for women, and she could take on just about any man who dared challenge her. You wouldn’t know it by looking at her, though. She was a tall, leggy broad with platinum-blond hair that was cut short and spiked on top, Barbie’s perfect figure, and lashes you’d swear were fake, but weren’t. And she wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty. Unlike her best friend and ex–college roommate, Sasha.

  Sasha Hale was spoiled rotten, a real girly girl. She had a heart of gold and would give strangers the shirt off her back, which of course meant she was left with far more heartache than any one person should have to endure. She was Demi’s exact opposite, so they balanced each other. Not that Sasha was ugly, by any means. Her mixed ethnicity gave her all the best traits from her mother and her father. She was short and curvy, with a tiny waist framed by a bodacious chest and a voluptuous ass. Her caramel-colored skin was softer than any I’d ever felt. It was unnatural, but she swore she didn’t have any sort of special skin-care regiment. I was convinced she was lying and had told her she would burn in hell for doing so. Her figure and angelic skin weren’t the only parts of my friend I coveted. She also had these round doe eyes the color of dark honey, with thick lashes and perfectly arched eyebrows, and the natural pink tint on her lips was sickening. I hated her. No, I didn’t. I loved her. Okay, so I loved to hate her.

  Pushing through the last of the crowd, I finally plopped down into my chair. The ice-cold tall draft Chaz had poured and slid to the corner of the bar was just out of reach, so I waved my hand for whoever was closest to pass it over.

  “Uh-uh! Girl, who do you think you are? Coming in here all late and then waving for somebody to do your bidding. They might call you the ice queen where you just came from, but you are not royalty here. You better get off your ass and fetch it yourself.”

  That would be Quinn, my nearest and dearest, though I couldn’t feel the love at the moment. So I did the only thing I could do: I pouted.

  Quinn’s skin looked porcelain in contrast to his jet hair. He was well kempt, perfectly groomed, and dressed to impress no matter what the occasion. With his toned physique, he could’ve been a professional model for any twentysomething boutique, but he was just our Quinn. Though he had no problem calling us out when we weren’t at our best. “Stop that. You do not look attractive,” he said, grabbing my beer and sliding it over to me. The pout worked every time. “You need it for this toast, anyway.”

  I sighed, more mentally exhausted than physically. I was also breaking in a new pair of heels, so there was that. “What are we toasting?”

  He sat tall and straight in his chair, with a smile so bright it could’ve been seen from Mars. Sasha and Demi were exhibiting the same smile and looked like they were about to burst into a cheerleading routine, complete with pom-poms and herkie jumps.

  “Look what Daddy bought me!” He held his wrist out, and I was nearly blinded by the bling that adorned it. A Breitling Bentley watch in yellow gold, leather, and—if I had to guess—fifteen or so carats of diamonds. It had to have cost a fortune.

  Clearly he expected me to be every bit as excited as he was. And I was. Mostly. Sasha and Demi leaned back and out of his eyesight and started throwing out hand gestures that I was sure were meant to get me to not say what I really thought, because that was how we played the whole “Daddy” situation. Quinn could become quite defensive otherwise, and that was never a pretty thing.

  Daddy was Quinn’s sugar daddy. Quinn’s gay-yet-not-out-of-the-closet sugar daddy. We were Quinn’s best friends, and even we didn’t know what the man’s real name was. All we knew was that Daddy was an account holder at the bank where Quinn worked. A married account holder with lots and lots of money and influence who didn’t believe it was in his best interest to let his wife, his constituents, or the general public become aware of his sexual preference. I thought it was stupid. Especially considering the leaps and bounds the world had been making in that regard. But it was his life, and Quinn accepted the hidden role he played in it. I loved my best friend, I really did, but I was quite sure the posh lifestyle Daddy was providing helped in keeping Quinn’s mouth shut about their secret affair.

  “What did you have to do for that, and did he at least let you wear kneepads?” I asked, deciding to keep it light and maybe even a little funny.

  “Oh, hush. Jealous,” he said, waving me off. I wasn’t so sure it was a wave-off as much as an attempt to blind someone with the reflection of the lights off the diamonds.

  Demi rolled her eyes. “You’re going to get robbed the second you walk out of here if you keep flashing that thing around.”

  “Damn, Q,” Chaz said from the bar. “You might want to get your bodyguard to walk you home. Huh, Demi?”

  Demi giggled, the flirt. The chemistry between those two was off-the-charts hot, but Chaz had never made a move on her. The chemistry between me and Chaz’s bestie, on the other hand … left a lot to be desired.

  “Very nice,” Shaw said, getting up to examine the piece for himself. He probably thought it was fake, that no one in our circle could afford such a thing. A circle in which he was forcibly included, which put quite the strain on the elasticity of the band that held it together.

  Sasha elbowed me and cut a sharp glance toward my still frosty glass. I hadn’t realized I’d been white-knuckling it. Not only that, but I’d also been biting the inside of my cheek. A barely perceptible chuckle from Shaw let me know he’d noticed. Damn it! I didn’t want him to know how much he got to me. Though that ship had sailed the day we’d met, I was sure.

  “Still slumming it, Matthews? All your posh friends have plans for the night?” I never could figure out why someone like Shaw Matthews, a.k.a. Richie Rich, chose to hang out in a pub rather than a La Petite Frou-Frou something or another.

  “You really think you have me pegged, don’t you?” When I smirked up at him, he shook his head and turned to slither back under the rock from which he’d come. Okay, so the rock was a bar stool.

  Fighting to maintain what little bit of composure I had left, I decided I really needed that drink. So I lifted the glass to my lips and completely forgot I was a lady in a public place. It never failed; when that first taste of hops hit my tongue, I closed my eyes and was instantly transported back to the only hole-in-the-wall tavern in Stonington, Maine. My da and his crew would always stop by for a few nice cold ones after a long fishing trip to exchange their sea legs for a pair of drunken ones, which really wasn’t much of a transformation. When he wasn’t looking, I’d sneak a sip or two, mostly because I wanted to emulate everything that was my da.

  I hadn’t realized I’d chugged the entire glass until I opened my eyes and found my friends gaping at me. “What?”

  “Jeez, Cass. Would you
like a trough next time?” Sasha looked around, clearly embarrassed. Thankfully, Shaw was nowhere to be found.

  “I swear to God, if you burp, I’m going to reach across this table and smack you.” Quinn wouldn’t really hit me, but I also wouldn’t be that rude, and he knew it.

  Demi beamed with pride and offered me a high five, which I accepted with a playful wink. I was a lady most of the time, but every now and then, it felt good to live wild and free. If Casey were there, he’d insist on it.

  “Where did the superjerk go?” I asked, hoping he hadn’t seen me.

  Sasha gave me the look. That one people give the runner-up to some grand prize. “I take it the announcement was made today?”

  Quinn threw his hands into the air. “I knew it. He got the partnership, didn’t he? They didn’t even give you a chance, the chauvinistic bastards.”

  “What? No!” My friends could be a little dramatic at times. I still didn’t understand how they could possibly underestimate me so much. “We have to compete for it. Whoever gets Denver to sign will also get the partnership.” I reached across the table and grabbed Demi’s bottle of beer for a quick swig

  “Well, that should be easy,” she said.

  I started to laugh, but then I saw that her brows were lifted like she expected me to understand words that hadn’t and didn’t need to be said out loud. She was serious about whatever point she was trying to make, but I obviously wasn’t on the same page. Having all gone to college together, Demi, Sasha, and Quinn had been friends for far longer than I’d been in the picture. They could practically read one another’s minds, and did a lot of the time. I was nearly there, but not quite. Whole conversations sometimes took place around me that left me oblivious, and this was shaping up to be one of those times.

  I sat her beer bottle down. “What are you talking about?”

  Sasha sighed. “Seduce him, dummy.”

  “What? I am not going to seduce the most sought after player in the National Football League. Not that it could be done even if I tried.” Even if I wanted to sink so low, the man could, and did, have any woman he wanted.