1. Royce
Present Day
Billionaire Royce Ashford is single and under fire again. This playboy changes women more frequently than most people change their underwear.
Irolled my eyes. They made it sound as if I changed girlfriends weekly, or even daily. I continued reading on.
Does he have STDs?
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
Is something wrong with the playboy, or is he looking for love in all the wrong places? Is he in a secret relationship?
I barely held back a laugh as I read the latest headlines while waiting for Willow. I was at The Godfather, the most elitist restaurant in D.C. located smack-dab in the heart of the city. For the past ten years, we’d made a point to catch up regularly, whether here or in California, and often other parts of the world.
And then of course there was the minor stalking, but that only started recently. And it was just a tiny bit. Only enough to ensure she was safe with the guys she chose to date, and since she refused a bodyguard, I had to resort to drastic measures.
My eyes roamed over the remainder of the article, which was basically just more of the same questions about the “constant women” in my life. Basically my sister and Willow, and occasionally Sailor.
I gave my head a subtle shake.
I didn’t understand people’s obsession with the Ashford family. People always acted like we were celebrities, but the truth was there was nothing glamorous or cool about us. Death and destruction followed us, and karma or the universe or whatever higher deity was pulling the strings up there made each member of this family pay for the sins of our father. Although things seemed to be looking up these days—at least for my brothers.
“Would you like anything to drink, Mr. Ashford?” The waitress’s voice interrupted my thoughts and I lifted my eyes off the paper to find a redhead standing in front of me.
“Scotch on the rocks, please,” I said. “And for my friend…” She glanced around, frowning, and I continued, “She’s coming. Vodka and watermelon punch. It’s her favorite.”
“Absolutely.” The waitress suddenly pulled out a chair and took a seat next to me, blushing excessively. “You’re the hottest man I’ve ever seen.” I stretched my paper out in front of my face, ignoring her. “Your brothers are hot too,” she added, trying to poke her head around the sports section.
“I’m ready for that drink,” I told her, my attention still on the paper. She disappeared with a frustrated breath and the scraping of the chair against the floor. I knew that drink wouldn’t be coming anytime soon.
The chime of the door had me turning my head, and my jaw nearly dropped at the sight of Willow. She was a vision in snug jeans and a skintight top with a plunging neckline. Her eyes darted around until they landed on me. A wide smile spread over her face and she waved as she headed my way, oblivious to the way every man was stealing glances at her.
As she closed the distance between us, I shot to my feet and slid my hand around her waist.
“Did you dress like this for me?”
She looked into my eyes, her cheeks flushing red. “Who else?”
I held back a laugh. We both knew she didn’t. Willow had come straight from the set of her latest movie, and she always dressed to the nines when working.
“How was work today?” I gently grabbed her wrist and guided her into the chair across from me, then retook my seat. She waved her hand as if she were chasing the topic away and instead snatched the paper that lay in front of me.
“Stop reading that garbage, Royce,” she scolded, folding it and dropping it onto the adjacent table. Willow was my sounding board, and things between us had blossomed into a true friendship. Sometimes I wondered what would have happened if I hadn’t stopped our kiss that night ten years ago, but then I reminded myself that I’d done the right thing. She was too young; I was too wild. She didn’t need to get pulled into my fucked-up shit.
“It’s not all bad.”
She scoffed. “Such as?”
“For starters, what movies you’re producing and what you’ve been up to.”
She scoffed. “More than likely, they don’t know. I don’t read that crap, and neither should you.”
“You know, you grew up,” I remarked. “People’s opinions used to worry you.”
She shrugged. “I did grow up,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You should too. Besides, you know they’re full of shit.”
“For the record, I haven’t had sex with anyone in six months.”
“Riiiight,” she said, looking unconvinced.
“And I get tested frequently, thank you very much. And I always use protection.”
“I didn’t really need to know that.”
“In fact, I got my test results yesterday, and I’m clean as a whistle. I’m telling you the truth, Willow.”
She laughed softly. “Royce, you’re the most dependable man I know. You might be reckless, but you do it responsibly.” She smirked. “Ignore those idiots. They’re just jealous.”
The door to the restaurant opened again, and I let out a frustrated breath. “This waitress will probably take forever to bring us drinks. I’m shuddering to think how long dinner will take.”
Willow’s eyebrow arched. “Is she an ex-girlfriend?”
“Redheads are not my type.” I gave her a pointed look. “Pretty brunettes are more my thing.”
She scoffed. “Then why are you always papped with blondes?”
“Because brunette status is reserved only for my best friend,” I said.
She tapped her chin, batting her eyes at me innocently, but a mischievous smile played around her lips. “Why does it feel like this is leading to you asking for a favor?”
“You know me well.”
Her cheeks reddened. “So what is it, Mr. Ashford?”
I smiled at her. “An ex from years ago appeared,” I started. “She’s mistaken my single status for an invitation.”
Willow let out that melodious laugh I loved so much. “Okay, use me as your defense.”
I grinned. “I love you.”
“Yeah, yeah.” A small smile played around her lips as she tapped her fingers nervously against the table. Almost as if she wanted to say something but was holding back.
“Is something wrong?”
Her eyes met mine and she sighed.
“No, but I do have a question.” I raised my eyebrow, my interest captured as I waited for her to continue. “I’d ask a brother if I had one.” Her button nose wrinkled. “Or maybe not. Yeah, probably not. But luckily, you’re not my brother…”
“Just spit it out, Willow.” She wasn’t usually the nervous or shy type.
“There’s a myth that if a woman eats pineapple, her ‘down there’ will taste better when a guy uses his mouth on her. Is that true?” Her cheeks had turned bloodred, but to her credit, she didn’t glance away. I smiled as she twisted her fingers nervously atop the table. “Do you have any experience in that area?”
I stood to my feet and extended my hand. “Should we go test it out?”
She crossed her arms and my gaze fell to her breasts. Fuck, she had nice boobs. But then I remembered who I was ogling and found her looking at me like I’d lost my mind.
“It’s not funny, Royce. I seriously want to know.”
“How about we talk about it over dinner,” I said, flicking a glance toward the bar and the kitchen. “At my place, because I’m starving and the damn service around here is hopeless.”
“The key word being talk, right?”
I smiled. “Of course. After all, what are best friends for?”
She sighed and took my hand. “This better be good.”