Worth Every Game (Hawkston Billionaires #2)

1. JACK

1

JACK

“ D addy bought me my first pony when I was six.”

I stifle a yawn. I’m unsure if it's because Lydia has been running through her childhood family pets for the last ten minutes, or because this is the third date I’ve been on this week, with three different women, and I spent the other nights working until after midnight.

I focus on the woman in front of me. She’s hot. Very . Long dark hair, dark eyes. Figure like a swimwear model. I’d be keen to fuck her if I didn’t think I might fall asleep on top of her. The pet chat is even worse than when she was listing her celebrity clients. I couldn’t give a fuck what actor or actress she does the PR for, and I’ve been feigning interest in her conversation for what feels like too long already.

It’s possible the whole work hard, play hard thing isn’t working for me anymore. Either that, or she’s incredibly boring.

I drain my glass of scotch, letting my mind drift back to work, my eyes glazing over as the sounds of the busy bar, and Lydia’s voice, fade into the background. It’s been six months since I sold my boutique hotel company to the corporate behemoth, Hawkston Hotels, and it’s been a crazy ride. With a seat on the board, and a huge share contribution, I’m working myself to the bone to prove my worth. It’s exhausting.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I slide it out to see my sister’s name flash up.

Why is Kate ringing me now? She never calls, especially not on a Friday night. Anxiety twists my gut. Ever since our father died eight years ago, I’m the one she calls when she needs something, which to be fair to her, is rare.

Maybe it’s a butt dial. If it’s serious, she’ll call back.

My gaze ping-pongs between the phone screen I’m hiding beneath the table and Lydia. Her eyes are sparkling, and she’s talking faster and louder, as if she knows she doesn’t have my full attention and is keen to reclaim it ASAP. Maybe I do want to get laid tonight. I could get a coffee somewhere first…

I reject the call and slip the phone back into my pocket.

It rings again. Kate .

Twice in twenty seconds? That’s not good.

I hold up a finger and Lydia aborts her diatribe about the rosettes she won as a teenage show jumper. I flash my phone at her. “It’s my sister. I have to take this.”

I get up from the table, accepting the call as I stride away. “What’s wrong? What do you need?” I ask before Kate has time to say a word.

“Oh, thank God,” she breathes, and my heart rate quickens. “I just got home, and the kitchen is full of bubbles. The dishwasher’s exploding. Can you get here and help me? It’s making this terrible gurgling noise.”

She’s calling me for bubbles? “Have you called a plumber?”

“Of course. I tried several, and none of them can come, and the guy who can, can’t be here for two hours. There’s foam everywhere. It’s like one of those terrible gameshows where the contestants flop around in slime in here.”

That sounds awful. My instinct is to rush to her aid, but I’m not entirely free to act on it. I glance over at the table to find Lydia staring at me, a coy little smile on her lips. Tempting .

I force my attention back to Kate. “Where’s Nico?” Now that my sister and my best friend are dating, maybe he can be the one to come to the rescue.

“He’s in Paris this weekend.” Damn . “Please, Jack. It’s your flat. Elly’s coming home soon and I don’t want her to know what a state the place is in.”

I perk up at the mention of Kate’s quirky flatmate. But I’m not sure how helpful Elly would be in this scenario. “Why wouldn’t you want her to know?”

“Because,” Kate begins, hesitation threaded through her voice, “I think she did it . We’re out of dishwasher tablets, so she must have filled it with washing up liquid before she went out.”

“Why the fuck would she do that?”

“I don’t know, do I? Because washing up liquid also cleans dishes? It’s not completely stupid—”

“Just a bit stupid.”

Kate tuts. “She’ll be humiliated if she’s broken the dishwasher, and she won’t be able to afford to get it fixed. Please, Jack. I can’t do it all by myself, and you should probably check there isn’t an actual plumbing fault.”

Damn Kate and her big heart, wanting to save her best friend the embarrassment of knowing she’s destroyed the kitchen. If Elly’s fucked the dishwasher, she should face the consequences. How else is she going to know not to do it again? But there’s no point trying to talk Kate down from this one. I know my sister too well.

I glance back at Lydia, who’s running her finger around the rim of her champagne glass. She really is gorgeous, but I’m exhausted and I’d hate to pass out on her after one orgasm. Better I pass out fixing a dishwasher than inside my date.

“Okay. I’m coming. Give me fifteen minutes.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank—”

I hang up and make my way back to the table. Lydia flashes me a sexy smile that all but screams ‘ let’s fuck ’. Guilt spears me alongside a little regret. I would have appreciated a blow job tonight. I could have stayed awake for that.

“I’m so sorry, but something’s come up. I’ve got to head to my sister’s flat. There’s been an emergency.”

Lydia’s smile evaporates, replaced by a disgruntled pout. “Can’t she call the landlord?”

“I’m the landlord.”

“Oh.” Disappointment rings through her voice and she looks completely dejected. I don’t want to totally crush her; I might want sex later this week, and in all likelihood fucking this woman is going to be more interesting than talking to her.

I offer an apologetic smile. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Tomorrow night,” she blurts, so keen that it’s almost off-putting. “My friend is throwing a party—”

“Sure. Love to. Send me the details,” I respond on autopilot, bending to kiss her on the cheek. “I really want to continue this date.” Sort of.

On the way out, I pay the bill. Lydia might not be my dream woman, but I won’t let her buy my drinks.

Forty-five minutes later, I’m standing in Kate’s kitchen, sleeves rolled up, sweat dripping from my forehead.

“We did it,” Kate muses, looking delightedly around the clean kitchen. Not a bubble in sight and the dishwasher is purring away happily. “Good as new.”

“New? This place needs a total overhaul.” I glance around at the flaking paintwork on the walls and the damp patch on the ceiling in the corner of the room. If Kate hadn't adamantly protested that she and Elly love living here, I would have moved them both out six months ago. As it is, I'm letting them run out their leases before I tear the place apart. “I've got those building survey reports coming back soon. I bet a faulty dishwasher isn't the only thing you need to worry about.”

Kate hmms . “Well, it’s never been so clean. You should move in here.”

I huff out a laugh. “No. You and Elly are a pair of pigs.”

She gasps in mock outrage before her expression turns sincere. “Thank you. I know it’s Friday night, and you probably had something better planned.”

“Nah. No plans this weekend.” I don’t want her worrying that she ruined my evening. “Besides, I like being here with you.” I pull her into a hug, and she squeezes her arms around my waist.

She releases me and steps back, turning towards the kettle to make us both some tea. We’re silent for a few minutes, and the only sound is the incessant drip-drip of water from the leaky tap into the sink. Is everything in this flat falling apart?

I try to ignore the noise and take a seat at the cheap Formica-topped table. Kate has her back to me when she says, “There’s this other thing I wanted to talk to you about.”

A zap of suspicion bolts down my spine. “Oh, yeah?”

She puts our mugs of tea on the table and flops into a chair opposite me. “I want to ask Elly to sing at Nico’s surprise birthday party. What do you think?”

My eyebrows rise before I have a chance to stop them. There’s so much wrong with the idea I don’t know where to start. What the hell do I say?

Kate has an expectant look on her face, and guilt expands like gas behind my sternum. The regular rhythm of the water dripping into the steel sink booms in the quiet kitchen.

“You need a new washer on that tap,” I say, and my attempt to avoid the question is so transparent that Kate lets out an exasperated breath.

“Forget about the tap. You’ve done enough plumbing for one evening. I’m asking you about Nico’s party. He’s your best friend. I want your opinion. I’ve never thrown a party this big. I want to get it right.”

I pick up my tea and slurp it, but the liquid’s so hot it burns my mouth. “Fuck.” I clench my jaw, squeezing my eyes shut. I wipe my mouth on the back of my hand, but my mind is still stuck on Kate’s original question, and clearly she’s not going to let it go. “You want to ask Elly to sing for Nico? Elly as in Elly Carter? Elly who flooded the kitchen? That Elly?” I sound like my brain is powering down.

“Yeah. What other Elly is there?”

Shit . “Just wanted to be sure.” I’ll have to tread carefully because Kate loves Elly. Adores her. They’ve been friends since they were pre-teens and have lived together most of their adult lives. I rest my arm over the back of the chair next to me and lean back just enough to look casual. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Kate quirks a brow. “Why not?”

“You can’t have an amateur play at your boyfriend’s party just because she’s your best friend. He’s Nico fucking Hawkston.” I gesticulate emphatically with one hand, but Kate doesn’t look convinced, despite the fact that Nico is one of the youngest billionaires in the UK, if not the whole world. “If you were dating a regular guy, I’d say yes. Of course, I would. But not for Nico. The stakes are too high, and it would be your reputation on the line.”

“Jack…” Kate says in a tone that’s meant to warn me off, but I’m not about to let her make a fool of herself in front of London society.

“I’m not trying to be an arse here. There’s a lot to consider; it’s not just about Nico. It’s his reputation too. The business. The brand. The PR of the damn thing.” I tap my hand on the table to make sure she’s listening, and her eyes widen slightly. “Everything he does, and everything connected with him, reflects on Hawkston Global Hotels, and therefore, on us.” Nico bought out our family business last year, and now we both work for him, but not even this point reduces the resistance emanating off Kate as she crosses her arms and glares at me. I refuse to back down. “You can’t invite London’s finest to a party and have a late-night basement singer be their entertainment. Be serious. You have to hire a professional.”

So much for treading carefully.

Kate sucks in a gasp. “But Elly’s great.”

Her defense sounds flimsy as fuck, and I reckon she knows it, but she doesn’t look ready to concede that I’m right, so I keep going. “Maybe she is, but where else has she performed? Are you confident she could handle that sort of pressure? As far as I’m aware, she’s never even sung in the lobby of a Hawkston Hotel, let alone at a party for the CEO.”

This seems to penetrate, and when Kate says, “I suppose that’s true,” I relax a little. But then she adds, “I have total confidence she could pull it off,” and I’m back to square one.

Time to offer a viable alternative. “Why take the risk? You could have Amy Moritz if you wanted. She’d probably jump at the chance to play for Nico.”

Amy is the music scene’s biggest new name, and she’s had a string of top ten hits in the past couple of years. She’s huge, and she’s also one of Nico’s best friends, which, to my mind, makes this a no-brainer.

Kate considers this for all of half a second. “I don’t have the money to pay Amy Moritz to perform.”

I shrug. “Get Nico to pay.”

Kate’s expression hardens. “This is a surprise party. And I don’t have access to Nico’s funds. I can’t splurge the way he could.”

“So tell him about the party. Have him book Amy.”

She splutters into the tea she’s about to drink from. “You really don’t have an ounce of romance in your entire body, do you?”

I screw my face up. What kind of comment is that? I’m not hanging around if she’s going to dismiss all my suggestions. It’s late, and I’m tired. I get to my feet and shrug into my coat. “This isn’t about romance. This is about throwing the best party you can—”

“For the man I love,” Kate interjects.

“Sure. Whatever. But you cannot get Elly to perform at a billionaire’s birthday party. It’s ridiculous. Not to mention the fact that she’s ditzy as hell. She can’t even remember to pay her rent, for fuck’s sake. It’s late every single month. Did you know that?” Kate bites her lip and, to her credit, looks a little ashamed about this. “If she wasn’t your friend, I’d have terminated her lease years ago. If you do ask her, she’ll probably forget to turn up or arrive half an hour after her set was due to start. Don’t fucking do it. If you’re strapped for cash I’ll lend you money to pay for someone else.”

Kate looks perturbed by my outburst, but the expression dissolves as she leans back in her chair, judgment wafting off her. “You haven’t even heard her sing, have you?”

My lip curls. “I don’t need to. If she were any good, she’d have made something of herself by now.”

A loud creak sounds from right outside the front door. Someone’s out there . Kate’s worried gaze locks onto mine. Before I can think, I pace to the door and yank it open.

Elly, half-bent over as if she’d been peering through the keyhole, topples into me, limbs flailing, her curly blonde hair all wild.

I have a split second to realise she’s been out here eavesdropping before her fingers are clamping into my quads in an attempt to prevent the crown of her head crashing against my dick.

“Fuck,” she swears, digging her fingernails into my trousers. My hands fly into the air, raised in surrender. I’m not touching her. I can’t be dealing with any accusations that I’m taking advantage of this situation. But if she will fly head first at my crotch …

She’s still clinging on when I let out a croak of laughter. “Found your happy place down there, El?”

She scowls up at me and quickly rights herself, dusting down the arms of her sheepskin coat. “Jack.” She says my name in the exact tone you might say ‘ fuck you ’. “I knew you were here. Your cologne is hanging out there”—she indicates the stairway—“like a cloud of mustard gas. I nearly choked on it.”

I give her my best smile. “Good to know you’ve memorised my scent.”

She crosses her arms over her chest, and her small but perfect breasts balance on her forearms, the V-neck of her pale blue jumper revealing a hint of cleavage.

Damn . She might not be the best choice to sing at Nico’s party, but I can’t deny she’s gorgeous. Always has been, but I’ve never pursued her because she’s Kate’s best friend, and I have plenty of other options that won’t get me in trouble.

But today, I allow myself the luxury of taking her in. She’s wearing tan leather cowboy boots paired with a sheepskin coat, like a seventies wannabe music star. Beneath it, a short white skirt hits mid thigh. The length of the skirt is baffling, given how cold it is outside, but the glimpse of bare skin is so unexpected that I find myself drawn to it, allowing my gaze to linger on the toned curve of her thighs.

She clears her throat, calling me out, and I drag my eyes to hers, determined not to show a hint of guilt as I flash her the grin that works on all women.

Except, apparently, Elly Carter, who directs a look of pure animosity my way.

“Elly, hi.” Kate’s voice is a shock to my system. I’ve been so absorbed by Elly that I forgot she was there. Her greeting rings guilty, and even if Elly hadn’t heard us talking about her, Kate’s tone is a dead giveaway.

“Hey,” Elly replies, her voice hollow. It’s so different from how I’ve heard her with Kate in the past, all bubbly and vivacious. Is that my fault?

She shifts and I get a whiff of her scent. My gut tightens as I realise it’s as familiar to me as mine appears to be to her, and yet I hadn’t known it until this moment. All these years, and now I notice? Bizarre . It’s fruity… like lemons and something else. What is that? Without thinking, I lean a tiny bit closer and inhale.

Elly’s eyes widen, and she draws back, staring at me like she wants to slit my throat. Shit . I must have really annoyed her because ordinarily she’d make some flirtatious comment or tease me. I’m not sure I like this version of her very much.

“Get what you wanted there?” Elly hisses at me.

I dare a grin and run my tongue over my top teeth, hoping she’ll stop that nasty scowl. “You smell like lemons.” When her expression doesn’t shift, I add, “Sour.”

Annoyance flashes in her bright blue eyes, then she looks past me to Kate. “What’s this about a party? Did you want to book me to perform?”

Wow . I’m stunned and mildly impressed that Elly’s addressing this head on.

Kate straightens in her seat. “Yeah, actually. Nico’s surprise party. What do you think?”

The pause that follows is a beat too long, and Elly appears to shrink as something like panic mars her face. It contorts her features for a microsecond, but it’s long enough to tell me what I need to know, validating every word I said earlier: Elly Carter doesn’t have the confidence to perform at an event like this.

She wipes her expression clean and straightens her shoulders. “I’d love to.”

Fuck me.

She holds herself upright, and I sense a further hardening of her muscles before she turns to me. “It didn’t sound like you thought it was a good idea.”

Is that a question? I consider holding my tongue, but the aggressive way she’s staring at me feels like an intimidation tactic. As if she’s asking if I have the balls to say it to her face.

Does she think I’m going to back down? Retract my statement? Pretend she’s better than she is? Out of what… politeness? Decency? I have to swallow the harsh laugh that claws at my throat. Elly might have the brightest blue eyes I’ve ever seen, but I wouldn’t cushion my opinion for anyone else, so why should I do it now? “I don’t think it’s a good idea. You’re not qualified. Nico needs the best, and you aren’t it.”

She flinches. I expect her to lash out, but my comment appears to have landed somewhere deeper, and I feel the sting of regret.

Her eyes close slowly, like she’s holding back a surge of emotion, her breasts rising on a lengthy inhalation.

Why does she have to look so beautiful in her hopelessness? I feel like I swiped a kitten that was pretending to be a tiger, and the urge to apologise swells like a wave. I lock it down. She asked. I answered. If she can’t take it, that’s not my problem.

“Fuck, Jack,” Kate hisses at me, then shifts in her chair to focus on Elly. “He has no idea what he’s talking about. He’s never heard you sing, or seen you perform. When’s your next gig?”

Shit .

Elly’s eyes narrow as if she’s wondering if we’re playing a trick on her. “Tomorrow night. At the Marchmont Arms...” Her eyes flit to mine, and I sense she’s uncomfortable with whatever else she’s about to say. “In the basement.” Ah. My late-night basement singer comment comes back to me. “It’s after my bar shift. Not until eleven.”

“Great. We’ll be there. Won’t we, Jack?” Kate’s tone is clipped, as though this is all decided. “You just told me you have no plans this weekend.”

Damn it. The last thing I want to do is spend my night in a shitty dive bar. And then there’s Lydia too. “Actually…” I begin as Elly examines me. Her unrelenting stare is making my body heat like tarmac in summer. I grip my tie and tug on the knot. “There is—”

“He doesn’t want to come.” Elly cuts me off and her gaze slices past me to Kate. “I’m all for a bigger audience, but not when you have to drag them there kicking and screaming like a toddler having a tantrum. It kills the vibe.”

Tantrum? “I don’t kick and scream,” I counter.

“Oh no, of course not. My mistake. You’d never do that because you’re all man ,” Elly teases, drawing out the last two words and rolling her eyes. “You’d just sit there and growl.”

Growl? What the actual fuck? “I bet you’d love that,” I say, smirking at her suggestively, which is definitely not the response she expected because a soft blush colours her cheeks and her eyes dart away from mine.

“Jack,” Kate reprimands, but I ignore her.

“And yeah,” I continue, staring at Elly, my tone much sharper now, “if I have to sit through a bunch of amateurs, I’d probably growl about it.”

Her furious glare meets mine. “Do you even know what the word ‘amateur’ means?” she bites out, going all tigress on me again. “It means you don’t get paid. And I do get paid. Just because we can’t all be Mr Moneybags like you, doesn’t mean it isn’t still worthwhile cash.”

Mr Moneybags? I can’t even work out if that’s an insult or not. It sounds like a compliment, but it definitely wasn’t meant as one. Elly’s always taken issue with the fact I have a lot of money, as if me working hard and making millions is something I’ve done deliberately to annoy her. Or at least that’s how it feels when she niggles me like this. Two can play at this game.

“Good to know.” I make a show of glancing at my watch. “Your rent’s due at the end of the week. Keep saving those pennies, and maybe you’ll be able to pay on time this month. And if you can’t, I’ll sit outside the front door and growl until you can.”

Elly’s mouth opens wide, and her gaze moves to Kate. “How are you related to this arsehole? How is that possible?”

I chuckle, and Elly glares at me.

“Oh, El.” Kate’s tone is placating and apologetic all at once. “Ignore him. I’ll strap him into a taxi and gag him. That way, it won’t matter if he kicks and screams.”

Kate gives me a closed-lipped smile, seemingly pleased with her joke, and it’s right on the tip of my tongue to retort that Elly would probably enjoy having me bound and gagged. She’s probably into that kinky shit.

I open my mouth to crack the joke, then stop myself. What am I thinking, laying on the sexual innuendo in front of Kate? That’s my cue to leave. I’m fucking knackered. If I stay here any longer, I’ll say something unforgivably inappropriate. I give them a bow and announce, “Goodbye, ladies.”

“Night, Jack. Thanks for everything tonight. You’re the best.” Kate blows me a kiss, and Elly steps to one side to let me past.

For the briefest second, my entire body is alongside hers on the threshold. The hostility radiating off her is palpable, so sharp it could tear my coat and destroy the cashmere. Fuck it, I definitely don’t like this state of affairs. Bring back the slightly antagonistic flirtation; that’s always worked perfectly for me and Elly.

“Hey, Jack,” she whispers, so low I’m sure Kate can’t hear it. “If you come and hear me sing, I promise I’ll listen to you growl.”

My heart gives an awkward thud. What the fuck is that about? I pull back to see her eyes twinkling, and a smile creeping in at the edges of her pink lips. That’s more like it . Seeing my slightly stunned reaction, she looks delighted with herself, like she thinks she’s won the match point.

I’m still staring at her when she says, “See you Saturday. Or not.” She gives a little shrug like she doesn’t care either way.

“I’ll be there.”

It’s her turn to look surprised, but she recovers quickly, giving me a little nod. “Okay.”

It’s a simple response, but her voice is a husky whisper that echoes in my mind long after the bitter wind outside ought to have blown it away.