Play Me Hard (Play Me 3)

“That’s not necessary—”

“Of course it is. It’s not every day one of my best friends gets engaged.” I turn to smile at Chloe, who is looking a little overwhelmed. “Congratulations, by the way. To both of you. I hope you’ll join me for dinner one night while you’re here, so we can celebrate.”

She nods slowly. “I’d like that.”

“Good. Tell Ethan to pick a day and we’ll make it happen.”

“Tomorrow night,” Ethan says immediately. “We’ve got tickets to your Cirque show tonight. Chloe’s never been to one.”

“It’s a good show,” I tell her. “I think you’ll like it.”

“I’m sure I will.”

“All right, then. I’ll leave you guys to get settled in.” I clap Ethan on the back. “Give me a call if you want to get a drink after the show tonight. Otherwise, I’ll plan on seeing you tomorrow—”

“Actually, Chloe just set up a couple hours at the spa for a facial and pedicure. Do you have some time to talk now?”

I almost tell him no—I’ve got a shit-ton of work that needs to get done today and at least three new crises that have to be dealt with. But there’s a look in his eyes, something that says the request is about more than catching up. So I nod, tell him, “Sure. Just text me whenever you’re ready.”

He nods. “Good. I’ll see you in a bit, then.”

“Absolutely.” I take hold of Chloe’s hand, raise it to my lips. “It was lovely to meet you, Chloe. Back in school we always knew Ethan had good taste, but he’s obviously surpassed himself this time.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” she answers with an amused eye roll.

“No, it won’t,” Ethan says, pulling her even more tightly into his side. “Watch out for this one, Chlo. He’s trouble.”

“Once again, Ethan, I’m pretty sure you’ve gotten us confused.” I bow out with a grin and a wink at Chloe. Squeezing Ethan into my to-do list, though definitely not a hardship, does leave me with a dearth of time this afternoon.

But I barely make it to the elevator before I’m stopped again, this time by the head of security. There’s a couple cheating at one of the five hundred dollar minimum tables and he wants to know how he should handle it. I start to tell him to do whatever he normally does in situations like these, but in the end I follow him up to the Eye, the room that handles the video feed from every camera in the casino. If I want to put my mark on this place—to show my division heads that I’m more than just an extension of my father’s less than stellar policies—I need to put in the time to do just that.

By the time I finally make my decision—kicking them out with a severe warning but not involving the police—Ethan’s already texted me. I answer him with directions on how to get to my office, then head there myself—after getting what I think is an approving nod from my security chief.

Not an ideal use of time, I figure, but not a bad use, either.

Ethan and I end up hitting the top floor at the same time, though in different elevators—I use the private one that leads straight into my office. The doors haven’t even closed behind me, though, before he’s knocking on my door.

“Come on in,” I call, heading to the bar my father’s kept in the corner of this office for as long as the Atlantis has existed. “Beer?” I ask him, holding up a bottle of Corona. “Or scotch?”

“Scotch, I think.”

I raise a brow but don’t say anything else as I pour him two fingers, neat, of Lagavulin. Definitely not just a social visit, then.

I grab a Guinness for myself—I’m not a fan of Ethan’s wimpy surfer beers—and then hand him his scotch.

He goes to sit in one of the chairs opposite my desk, but the replacements I ordered the other day haven’t come in yet and I’ll be damned if one of my best friends is going to play even an unwitting part in one of my dad’s damn mind games.

“Let’s check out the view,” I tell him, steering him over to the small seating area in front of the picture window. As he drops into one of the chairs, I can’t help thinking about the fact that it’s been less than twenty-four hours since I had Aria plastered against that window.

Naked.

Submissive.

Totally fucked out.

I end up taking a seat facing away from the window. The last thing I want to do rig

ht now is explain to Ethan why I’ve suddenly popped a fucking hard-on like some fifteen-year-old kid in English class.