The Next Book Boyfriend
Roderick
Reader’s note: The Moguls series is a spin-off of the It Was Always You series.
Although Rod’s and Dominika’s heartbreaking friends to lovers story is book number two in the series, it’s the first book I wrote.
Like Gage, Rod is an emotionally scarred hero.
And like Rod, he’s fiercely protective. Enjoy the excerpt.
T hings have been pretty weird between my best friend and I lately.
It seems like everything about me irritates the hell out of her.
The problem is, I don’t know why. Maybe it’s a natural progression when people have been this close for this long.
I’ve been tiptoeing through it like I’m walking on glass, careful not to make matters worse.
I can’t afford to lose her as my best friend.
She means too much to me. Whatever it is that’s caused this friction between us, I hope her time away will have mellowed her out.
Eager to hear all about her trip and catch up, I dial her up. She answers on the first ring.
“Hey, Dom, you’re back.”
“Rod, how are you? ”
“Good. Did I wake you up?”
“No, I’ve been up for a while. I got your text message. I was going to answer after coffee.”
“No problem. I’m sure you’re still a little tired.”
“That’s the understatement of the century. I’m so jetlagged, I don’t even know what planet I’m on. Is this Pluto or Mars?”
I laugh. “I hear you. When I came back from Australia two months ago, I thought I woke up on Jupiter. Are you going to be able to stay awake until tonight?”
“I might have to take a nap if I want to make it to Zoe’s birthday party. I wasn’t planning on going since I just landed, but she insists. She also invited me to dinner along with her best friend before we head out to her party. Something about thanking me.”
“It makes sense. You’re responsible for her big break.”
“It was an introduction. Nothing more,” she says.
“It’s much more than that and you know it.”
Thanks to Dom, Zoe secured a phenomenal job at my brothers’ TV production company. Dom would never take credit where credit’s due. She’s so self-effacing.
“Will you stop by Zoe’s party?” She changes the subject.
“I’ll head there the second Eddie’s yacht docks.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Remember how Eddie proposed to the so-called love of his life after a three-day sex marathon?”
“Don’t tell me. It wasn’t love ever after.”
“It was a quickie Vegas wedding that lasted seven days. The six-month waiting period has elapsed and his divorce was finalized on Monday. Since she’s loaded, she didn’t ask for a dime, so it ended up being a smooth divorce. Eddie says her father is relieved.”
“I don’t blame the man. At least she isn’t pregnant. ”
“Yeah, I don’t see Eddie as the father type. The guy isn’t wired for commitment.”
“One could say the same about you, Rod.”
“I never professed otherwise, Dom,” I say. “Anyway, back to the divorce. Eddie invited a bunch of us to celebrate his newfound freedom by chartering a yacht.”
“The usual suspects will be present?”
“No doubt.”
“Kudos to Eddie. Nothing like getting back on the horse,” she says.
“Yeah, well, Eddie loves women?—”
“As much as you do.”
It’s not like I can deny it, but her snarky tone annoys me. She’s been throwing these digs at me since before she left. I thought we were past that.
I let it slide. “How was the training?”
“There are no words to describe how amazing it was. I’m now armed with even more cutting-edge skills. My head is filled with ideas. I can’t wait to put them all into practice. Thanks again for pushing me to apply.” She clears her throat. “And… thanks for helping me get there.”
I detect a touch of shyness in her voice. Even after all these years, Dom doesn’t accept gifts easily.
“It would’ve been a shame if you’d missed out,” I say.
“Yeah, well, it cost an arm and a leg.”
I paid for it.
I didn’t care how many times she protested. She was going to be part of that group of eight.
“It was worth it?”
“It was so much more than I expected.”
“That’s all that matters.”
“Thanks again.”
Dom is so freaking talented, it’s ridiculous.
She makes good money, but she’s still a freelancer and she doesn’t have a previous multi-millionaire career to fall on.
When the opportunity came for a handful of professionals to be part of an advanced month-long video production program offered by Pepperdine University’s Communication Division, I pushed her to apply.
Since the training started in LA—New York was next—and ended in London, I nudged her to stay in Europe and play tourist. She didn’t fight me.
“How was it seeing your mom and cousins?”
We’ve been relying on texting since she left because the time difference was challenging. I’ve also been catching the highlights of her trip on social media, but it doesn’t compare to hearing all the details from her.
She lets out a long sigh. “I don’t miss living an ocean apart from my mom.
” No chances my mother would’ve ever won a Mother of The Year award.
Neither would Dom’s. “Seeing my paternal grandparents is always weird. Are they still family when your father abandoned you as a kid?” It’s a rhetorical question.
“It was awkward. The language barrier doesn’t make communicating easy since my German is rusty.
And how many times are they going to apologize for my father’s behavior?
Their only son and he turns out to be a disappointment. ”
“Parents aren’t always biological, Dom. You and I both know it.”
“Isn’t that the truth,” she says.
Despite all the rotten and shitty things she’s gone through in her childhood, she’s always managed to maintain a cheerful facade. She knows how to keep her pain buried deep.
I, on the other hand, was a hellion growing up.
Some called me the devil’s child. With good reason. I wore my anger on my chest like armor. It scared the shit out of most people.
Not Dom .
She’s always accepted every part of me and she always knew how to turn my foul moods around. Until recently, that is. Lately, our bickering gets me all riled up.
“You turned out great,” I say.
“Thanks to you. And so did you.”
“Damn right I did.”
“Roderick Wolfe. Always Mr. Humble.”
“I’m a former rock star. I don’t even know how to spell the word.”
“No, you don’t,” she says with a laugh.
I love it when she’s lighthearted like this.
Maybe we’re back to being Dom and Rod.
“Other than family reunions, what kind of wild and reckless adventures were you on? European men must be grieving your departure.”
Don’t ask me why I’d dig my own grave by poking into her love life. It’s not like I want to know she’s been with other guys.
“Reckless adventures? As in vacation flings?”
“Yeah.”
She laughs.
“What’s so funny, Dom?”
She hasn’t been in a relationship in so long.
The last idiot was a dickless mama’s boy. I guess, in many ways, I should be grateful because I don’t have to worry about some jerk disrespecting her or treating her badly. She’s yet to date a guy worthy of her.
Shame.
Dom is gorgeous. Her jet-black hair and blue eyes against her luminous complexion is every man’s dream.
Her full lips could drive a guy wild. Other than for a dye job, she’s all-natural.
She wears a minimum amount of makeup. And in a sea of silicone, her tits are real.
Bonus, she never uses her body as if it were her only asset. She doesn’t have to .
She’s super smart, too—in high school, she could solve complex math equations that stumped some of her teachers.
To this day, she’s still a math whiz. She’s also vivacious and fiercely loyal.
She’s the whole package. Not that I’ll ever tell her, but I’ve harbored a secret longing for my best friend for a while now.
However, I have no intention of screwing up what we share with sex.
Crossing that line could potentially be lethal.
“That’s your department, Rod,” she says.
I guess I spoke too soon. She still has a bee in her bonnet.
“After all, you’re the self-indulgent bad boy who still—after retiring—gets women to drop their panties on command. I’m a good girl. Thank God I don’t have a dick between my legs dic- tating my every thought.”
What can I say? There’s an abundance of gorgeous and willing women in LA.
Add the former rock star factor and getting pussy is a joke.
That’s why I subscribe to the ‘once and done’ school of thought.
It’s best that way. Women can put too many expectations on a relationship, and that screws everyone up.
Mom was a prime example. But coming from Dom? It slices.
“Is that your way of saying you got zero action in Europe? Because it sounds like you’re still a bundle of nerves.”
If she wants to go there, I’m game.
“Fuck off, Rod.”
I let out a strangled laugh laced with irritation.
“Is that any way to talk to your best friend?”
“That’s low even for you,” she says.
I jam a hand through my hair in frustration.
“I was hoping you would’ve worked out some of the tension you’ve been carrying so you can stop being so short with me. I guess I was wrong.”
Silence.
She shuts me out. Again .
“Dom?”
Nothing.
“For God’s sake. Are you still on the other end?”
“I am. No need to shout, Rod.”
That’s it?
I don’t get the woman. I swear I don’t.
One minute hot. The other cold as ice.
I didn’t think anyone could be worse than my mother, but for the past few months, Dom’s erratic moodiness is putting Mom to shame.
I let out an impatient exhale. “Why don’t I let you go? I’m sure you have a million things to do. I’ll see you at Zoe’s party.”
“All right,” she says.
Two fucking words?
“I won’t stay too long because the guys will be waiting for me at the Quintus?—”
“You mean Dark Compulsion?”
“No, Dom. I mean the Quintus Hotel.”
“Surely, you’ll stop by the private adult club that caters to Hollywood’s Who’s Who since it’s annexed to the Quintus. After all, membership has its perks. Unless you hook up with a girl on the yacht.”
“What kind of statement is that?” Now, I’m pissed off.
“Just sayin’.”
I let out a loud exhale. “Are we fighting again, Dom?”
“We aren’t fighting,” she says. “Why don’t you just come out and say it?”
“Say what?”
“After Eddie’s party you’ll find an eager fuck buddy for the night––like you always do––which is why you’ll only pop in and out of Zoe’s birthday party.”
Her bitter tone jabs at my heart.
“This conversation is heading south. Fast. I called to find out how you were doing after an extended absence from LA” —and because I missed you— “I didn’t call for us to be at it like cats and dogs.
I thought our time apart would cool things off between us.
Not that I know why the sight of me––or the sound of my voice––repulses you so much, but it does. I’ll catch you later.”
With that, I hang up.