Sneak Peek at THE CON

A peek into an (unedited) scene from THE CON (A Forbidden, Secret Billionaire Romance) by Natalie Wrye

JACOB

After Sophie leaves, it didn’t take me long for me for realize that partying is the last thing I felt like doing after that fuck-up of a reunion.

My bad mood was back, sinking into my senses like stone.

The folder Sophie delivered me was burning a hole in my hands from the moment she left, and I could feel the weight of it on my chest.

But more than that, I could feel the weight of her words.

The lithe brunette was lying. That much was true.

And I needed to figure out why.

Slapping a handful of bills on The Alchemist’s bar and slipping out of the doors, I rushed back to my temporary rental, slinging my jacket on my couch and unsnapping my collar as I walked in, scratching behind the ears of my orange cat Amy, who was sitting by the fire.

Amy knew I was up to no good, and I scratched her neck as a way to tell her.

I could feel the heat of my anger rising in me as I shut the front door to the Manhattan apartment—a Sparrow property with a mortgage that costs more than most people make in year.

I rushed to the office at the end of hall, turning on my computer the second I slipped inside.

The pile of papers in the folder Sophie delivered felt hot against my palm, the burn of indignation making me stop and drop them on the desk.

The folder joined the rest of the papers on the cedar surface that all boasted the same information: Information about the inheritance I was now entitled to.

All from the father I didn’t even know I had.

Turns out my entire life was a lie.

My mother had bedded a billionaire…and turned him into a father.

The man was now dead, but he left me something in his will.

Six months ago, I was a graduating PhD student in London with a few loyal clients in my residency practice and a mountain of student debt.

Now, I was a man with a new identity. A multi-million dollar inheritance. And a box full of papers outlining my new life.

A rich man many times over and the heir to an empire. Legal titan Fitzgerald Sparrow’s empire, to be exact.

That’s who I am now–a role I never asked to play.

Above all else, I was his son.

One of the last surviving members of a family that, to this day, still plays a big role in the high society of New York. A role filled with influential friends…and even more influential enemies.

Now, part of that role was mine.

After sliding a can of wet food in front of Amy’s ravenous face, I leaned back in my ergonomic chair, wrapping my arms across my chest as a powerful longing rippled through me for the simple life I used to have.

But that life was gone now.

The folder that likely contained a copy of my new identity and bank account information was waiting for me just a few feet away.

Sitting beside it, I slip the thread from the manila folder, noticing how easily it opens under my fingertips, a stack of papers spilling out onto the table like a deck of cards. But before I can reach for them, my cell phone rings. I’m so distracted I don’t even check the ID.

“Hello?” I say, shoving the phone to my ear.

“Well, hello there, arsehole,” a familiar voice says. “I just want you to know that she’d better have the greatest tits this side of the Atlantic or it’s your ass the next time I see you.”

I frown, recognizing the voice as my brother’s. “Lewis? Who the hell are you talking about? Who is ‘she’?”

I hear the sounds of the bar around him as he half-slurs in my ear. “You know who I’m talking about…”She.” The woman you must have gone home with. The chippy that came to the bar looking for you. The one with legs long enough to wrap themselves around your neck.”

I freeze, my jaw tightening as a vision of Sophie Santellini doing just that slams into my solar plexus. I take a deep breath before blowing it out. I watch Amy eat from the corner of my eye.  “I didn’t go home with her, Lew. You’ve got the wrong idea.”

“Bull-fucking-ocks. Again,” he spits, his deep voice rumbling on a hearty laugh. “You expect me to believe a woman who looks like that just showed up and ambushed you at a bar–at midnight–because she, what, wanted to initiate a friendly hang-out? Talk about the weather while she’s wearing come-fuck-me boots and a pout that could launch a fleet of battleships?”

My heart sinks, the image of her in my mind again. I grit my teeth. “She didn’t come looking for me, Lew. She came to deliver something for work.”

“Ah, ‘work.’ And pray-tell, what kind of work do you and this chippy do together?”

“Her name’s Sophie. And we don’t do any kind of ‘work’ together. She’s an employee for Heath. My, uh…Fitzgerald’s son. And yes, I do know her. We met through her best friend Sabrina over half a year ago. And every encounter between us since has been, well,…interesting. You remember Lachlan Quinn, don’t you?”

“Hell yeah. You two were tighter than the skin on a scrotum at Oxford, bruv. So Lachlan and his girlfriend Sabrina introduced you to this Sophie, yeah?”

“Yeah. That’s about it.”

Lewis snorts as I stretch out of my office chair. The air in the cramped New York apartment feels suddenly stifling.

I head towards the massive kitchen, my steps echoing across my mahogany stained hardwood floors. I reach for the fridge.

“Well, then fuck,” he declares, voice rasping over the line, “I gotta get me some new friends. No one ever introduces me to women like that.” I hear the clink of glass, and Lewis hiccups into the phone, his voice slurring deeper. “And you’re not sleeping with her, eh?”

I pause in the kitchen, my hand freezing in the fridge as I grip the nearest bottle of Guiness. “No. I’m not.”

“Well, that’s a shame. It’s your last night in New York City and you haven’t even given that rented bed of yours a good work-out…A waste, if you ask me. You’re in the Big Apple with nothing but time on your hands, and you go home alone. You got lucky, man. It’s just not fair if you don’t take advantage of it. I wish I got lucky like you.”

I huff a laugh, snatching the beer and setting it on the granite counter before my hand can shake. “Trust me, if you knew anything about Sophie Santellini, you would know that there’s nothing ‘lucky’ about seeing her again.” I look up at the ceiling, my shoulders lifting as I blow out a breath. “I didn’t even think I’d ever see her again. I’ve forgotten all about her until she showed up today. And now, thanks to you, she’s all I can think about tonight.”

Lewis snorts into the phone. “Well, yeah. You’d have to be blind, deaf and dumb not to notice her. Did you at least acknowledge her when she left?”

“Yes.”

“I knew it. You two were a thing, man.” He pauses as I hear the usual clinking of glass as he takes a drink. “So, uh, she works for Sparrow, then? And are you going to tell Sparrow, Junior that you and Sophie are already…acquainted, as you say?”

I shake my head to myself, taking a sip of the brew. “Nah, not just yet.” The beer burns in my chest as I taste my own words.

“Right, right. So, you’re not going to tell your new lawyer—and newly minted half-brother, might I add—that you want to fuck his one of his employees?” I hear his grin from miles away. “Yeah, I guess that wouldn’t really help you guys get off on that right foot, now, would it?”

I set my bottle down, one hand gripping the counter tight. “Thanks, Lew. But I don’t plan on fucking anyone…least of all myself, by getting involved with a woman like Sophie, so on that note, good-bye, Lewis. Don’t get too drunk tonight.”

Lewis chokes on his drink, and I hear him cough into the phone. “I’m not, jackass. But you should be! We still haven’t finished celebrating!”

I take one look at the clock on my nightstand and close my eyes with frustration. It’s already two in the morning.

“I think a shower before bed sounds like a better idea.”

“Just as long as you’re not in it alone! I’m telling you: This is your last hurrah in New York. You should savor it.”

“I’m not in any kind of hurry, Lewis,” I reply, grabbing my laptop and clicking off the office light. “And after tomorrow, all bets are off. I’m going to have a lot fewer worries, and I’ve got everything to look forward to.”

“That’s the spirit!” he shouts in my ear. I picture him, upending his cup and pouring the contents into his gaping mouth. “I’ll call you tomorrow and tell you all about the new Missus Masterson I just discovered tonight. Soft pillowy ass as big as my head. And if you’re lucky, I’ll have a picture to show you.”

“Please don’t. I’ll see you tomorrow. And I’ll report back with all the details about the meeting.”

“I’d rather you report back with details about that Sophie chick. I’m sure she’s easy to get a hold of. She’s Sabrina’s friend. She works at the Sparrow law firm. Call her up tonight! Get her on the phone and get her over to your place. A woman like that deserves a thank you…for something, I’m sure. And soon-to-be rich men like you shouldn’t have to shower alone!”

“I’m hanging up now, Lew,” I say, my voice steely as I reach my bedroom. “Get home safely, yeah?”

“Whatever. I’ll just keep drinking myself into a stupor. Good night, then!”

I hang up and toss my phone on the bed. My eyes snap to my cat Amy in the doorway, her feline eyes glittering as she glares at me as if to say “So, what are you going to do? Try to get a hold her now, or wait until tomorrow?”

I ignore my cat’s silent judgment and head for the bathroom door.

I’m out of my clothes in less than a minute, my eyes refusing to look at myself in the mirror for fear of what I might see.

For the last nearly year or so, the only female company I’ve kept with any regularity has been my cat. And as much as I love my feisty little Mike Tyson in orange fur, I know–and have always known–that her company can’t make up for the lack of company in other ways.

Turning the shower on, I groan out loud, cursing Lewis for putting thoughts into my head.

Hot, steamy, unfiltered thoughts about what it would mean to have better company than Amy under the warm spray of water.

I try not to imagine what that company would look like in a perfect world.

Though I’m sure that company would likely have long, lush dark curls. Almond-shaped green eyes. And bronzed skin.

I step into the shower and let the hot water beat down on me as I fight back the rising tension in my body and try to keep moving forward.

The nearly-scalding water sluices over the short dark curls on my head, and I’m tempted to lay back in the water and close my eyes. Tempted to imagine.

Just for a moment. Just to have some measure of peace before I make my plans for tomorrow.

Tomorrow is going to be rough enough, even if everything goes according to plan.

And yet…

My thoughts meander as I soap myself down, as the warm water pours over my shoulders, and I imagine Sophie’s hands following the same route.

The thought of lush, parted lips caressing the length of me, of hot wetness and a fast slide, makes my back arch as I groan out loud.

I shouldn’t be thinking about Sophie. I shouldn’t be thinking about her mouth, or the way she looked in that blouse and black boots tonight. I shouldn’t be imagining the way her breasts pressed up against the silk, heaving as she stared at me in the street, her eyes going wide in surprise as she realized exactly who I was….

I shouldn’t be thinking about her like this.

But I am. And there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

My body tenses as I envision her face.

The night we shared in Seattle was permanently burned in the back of my brain. And I know that I will never forget it, no matter how hard I try.

What started out as an innocent housewarming managed to turn into something more as we laughed alongside Sabrina and Lachlan.

The promise of pizza, red wine and laughter was all I was after until we’d bumped into each other in that bathroom.

At first, it’d felt innocent enough. An accident. Nothing more.

But  then she was right there in front of me, her green eyes and lips so inviting, her hair falling over her shoulders as she leaned closer to me, our bodies touching as if magnetized.

Bloody hell, she looked amazing in that skirt, I remember thinking as she took off her coat to reveal her cleavage and curves. She looked like sex itself, and it took all of my willpower not to pounce on her right then and there.

I knew if I got anywhere near Sophie again, I wouldn’t be able to control myself. Then she looked up at me, flashed me a smile that snatched the breath out of my fucking body. And the only thing I wanted to do was pull her away from our friends and take her somewhere private.

Somewhere quiet, somewhere warm and cozy, where she’d be all to me.

And where I’d make every single second alone worth her while.

Inside the shower, my memories heat my blood and I grab my growing dick with one soapy fist, as my insides tighten with a fresh wave of need that’s been waiting for release ever since that woman slipped from the sheets of my bed.

Contrary to what I told Lewis tonight,, I’ve never found anyone to take my mind off her. No one else has measured up. No one else has even come close.

I’d known Sabrina’s best friend was a former Manhattan model, a honey-skinned brunette with a sharp tongue and a penchant for using it.

I had no idea that what the woman really was… was a siren, sent from sort of twisted Hell to show me exactly what I’d been missing and to teach me a lesson of the kind that I wouldn’t soon forget.

Maybe Lewis was right about Sophie. Maybe she is easy to get a hold of.

Maybe I could reach her tonight.

I could call Lachlan, get her actual number and not the fake one she slipped me. I’d tell her I was ready for Round Two.

I could tell her I wanted to see her again.

I could tell her that I needed to see her again. I could tell her I wanted more.

I’d tell her that I needed another taste, another night of feeling the way she made me feel and wanting more than I ever wanted before.

I’d tell her I want to feel her again. Feel her heat. The warmth of her skin sliding against mine as I slid inside her.

I’d tell her I’d be better this time, supplying her with five orgasms instead of a measly four. I’d tell her that this second time would ensure that she couldn’t crawl away from my bed, let alone walk with the fucking I’d give her if she slipped between my sheets again.

And all the while, I’d stroke her soaking pussy into oblivion as I uttered each word, every syllable. And with every swing of my hips, tug to her lips and lick of my tongue, I’d imprint my message in orgasms that would leave her breathless and begging for more.

Tomorrow won’t be an option, I realize as I twitch in my hand, as the fantasy takes me over completely. I slide my fingers along my wet length, picking up pace.

The vision of Sophie’s passion-pinched face as she stares up at me as I enter her is too much. The pressure inside my cock reaches its peak and pushes me over the edge, and with a palm against the cool tile and another around my shaft, I explode, waves of fire hitting every inch of me from the inside out.

I spend the next few minutes in that blissful state, trying to keep my body rooted in place, but I lose myself easily.

As I wipe the water from the shower, wash out my hand and step out of the shower, I feel dirty and satisfied.

I towel off the water from my skin and lean against the counter for one more second as I wrap a white towel around my hips.

I’m panting, my breathing heavy and fast as I try to calm myself down.

My insides feel like a bunch of caged animals and as I gaze at myself in the mirror, I can see that they are coming to life.

I feel the same way I did before I went to bed, after coming back from Seattle. The same way I felt the first few weeks after Sophie left me in the middle of the night, leaving me with a note written on a pad of hotel stationary.

She’d left the note on the table next to my hotel bed and it took me several hours to find the damn thing.

And here I am, months later, just as desperate as I was then to feel her sweet body, her fingertips running across my chest, her lips upon my skin.

Only this time…

I know better.

Sophie Santellini—from all accounts—has proved herself to be someone who lies, above all else. Even worse, she’s a distraction I can’t handle.

I have a plan. I’m starting over.

Taking the money that’s left to me and building a therapeutic practice back where I belong.

I can’t afford to be distracted.

It’s as simple as that.

So, instead of calling Lachlan for her number, I amble back out of my bathroom, steam wafting off my towel-clad body.

I’m back at my desk within seconds, fingers reaching for that folder that contains all of my hopes. With a long, deep breath, I resign myself to my fate.

There will be no Sophie Santellini, I promise myself. Not now, not tomorrow and not ever again. I’ll just have to put her behind me, forget about her and concentrate on the future, one that isn’t clouded by some American vixen.

And I will.

I have to.

I have to be ready to put her out of my head.

But even as I tell myself that, my head falls back on my shoulders and my eyes flutter shut as I remember her heat, that bite of desire, the scent of her arousal.

The color of her skin as she stands before me again in my mind’s eye.

Fuck.

I have a feeling this is going to be one hell of a long night.

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