Little Did You Know

Chapter 1

Chapter One

" A little faster," I growled, the words hollow in my throat as I watched her head eagerly bob up and down between my legs. My gaze lifted to the ceiling, trying to manufacture enthusiasm I didn't feel.

Her name was Tiffany—this week's blonde in an endless parade of them. Even the pleasure felt mechanical, like checking another box on my daily schedule between business meetings and workout sessions.

My pulse stayed steady, betraying how routine this had become.

When had sex turned into such a chore? The thought bothered me more than I wanted to admit.

Tiffany was like every other woman who'd come into my life post-billionaire status. She fit the mold perfectly—blonde, blue-eyed, curvy and enhanced in all the right places. Another ambitious woman convinced she could turn a hookup into a happily ever after.

It never worked out for them.

My gaze followed her lips as they slid down my length, pushing me to the back of her throat, wondering if she saw the irony: the harder they tried to reach my heart, the more it turned to stone.

Tiffany released a loud moan.

Usually, watching my manhood tickle the back of her throat excited me more, but today it was as if her face was making love to my cock, and it was getting me no closer to the release I needed.

Don't get me wrong, my dick was painfully excited to see her, but my brain, not so much.

She stared up at me through long fake eyelashes, and I tried to express as much interest as possible, letting out a slight growl, but it was primarily out of frustration, not pleasure.

Dropping my head back on my plush leather sofa, I tried to focus on the hot wet mouth sucking me off, but before I knew it, my thoughts were on everything but the blow job.

The truth was I didn't care about any random thought running through my head. Only the fact I wished Tiffany would hurry up so I could get off and she could go home.

"Faster, Tiff," I ordered, hurrying her along, but she continued at the same slow vanilla pace.

I tangled my fingers through her hair, gripping it tight, deciding to take matters into my own hands, but froze when my phone vibrated.

Thankful for the interruption, I released her.

"That's enough, Tiff." I gripped the edge of the leather sofa, knuckles white against the dark material.

Tiffany sat back on her legs, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. The gesture smeared her red lipstick, creating the first genuine thing about her I'd seen all evening.

"But we haven't finished." She traced a manicured finger along my thigh as I tucked myself away. "You didn't get your happy ending." Her lips curved into that practiced pout I'd seen on a dozen other faces. "And neither did I."

My phone buzzed again. I held it up like a shield between us, my other hand already fastening my button. "Sorry, Tiff. I have to take this. Rain check?" I had zero intentions of ever seeing Tiffany again.

"I could hang around and wait until you're done?" She stood naked from the waist up. Her tits were fantastic, but they looked the same as every other girl I was fucking—enormous and fake.

"This could take a while, but I'll call you." I would say anything right now to get her out of my house.

My rules were carved in stone: no access to my bedroom, no kissing, no spontaneous visits, no overnight stays. The rules weren't cruel—they were armor, protecting the parts of myself I couldn't afford to share. The parts I didn't want to share. It was easier to be called a cold-hearted bastard, a playboy, a dick than to explain the real reasons I kept everyone at arm's length.

"Sure." She flashed a hopeful smile, but we both knew I was saying goodbye forever.

I busied myself with my phone, deliberately avoiding eye contact. "You know the way out, right?" The words came out harsher than intended, but maybe that was better – false kindness only led to complications.

I retreated to my kitchen, my bare feet silent against the marble floors. The space was all shiny surfaces and sharp angles—polished granite countertops, German appliances that looked more like modern sculpture than cooking tools, and a wine fridge programmed to maintain the perfect temperature for vintages I rarely touched.

The gentle hum of the Sub-Zero fridge was the only sound besides Tiffany's muffled movements in the other room as I hit the green accept button before pulling the phone to my ear.

"Look who's come back from the dead." I pressed my forehead against the cool, massive floor-to-ceiling kitchen window, watching the rain trickle down.

Emmett's laugh crackled through the line. "How's it going, Nick?"

"Living the dream. Work, fuck, eat, sleep, repeat." My reflection looked hollow in the window. Empty. "You?"

The silence stretched until I could map it in heartbeats. Ice clinked against glass—once, twice. The sound transported me back to the summer I left and never looked back.

"I wish I could say the same." Another clink, softer this time. Hesitant. "Listen, there's something I need to ask you."

"Of course, anything, man." I was more serious now. Emmett had been my best friend since grade school. I was two years older than him, but if it hadn't been for him and his family, I'd have been in foster care growing up or possibly dead at the hands of my drunken father. "What's up?"

"It's Olivia."

"How is little Livy?" Livy, also known as Olivia to her family and close friends, was Emmett's younger sister.

"She's all grown up." Something in Emmett's voice made me turn away from the window. "Heading off to grad school."

"Wow, she's only..." The math caught in my throat like old guilt. Twenty-nine minus... "Twenty?"

"Twenty-one." Keys jingled on Emmett's end. "Had her birthday a few weeks ago."

I crossed to the liquor cabinet. "Time flies."

I'd occasionally kept in contact with Emmett, but it had been years since we spoke last and even longer since I'd seen Olivia.

"She's coming your way. She was accepted into the South Florida University's grad program there in Tampa to get her master’s in finance. I tried to get her to stick around here, but she was persistent and wanted to get out on her own."

"How can I help?"

"She flies in tomorrow." Emmett's voice took on that protective big brother tone I remembered from our childhood. "I was hoping you could pick her up from the airport, make sure she gets settled into her dorm, and get her classes taken care of."

I rubbed the back of my neck. "Of course, man. You know I'd do anything for you and Olivia."

"I appreciate it, Nick."

"How about you?" I strolled out of the kitchen, through the living room, and into my office. "When are you coming to visit?"

"Soon, I hope. Things have been crazy around here."

"I look forward to it. And don't worry about Olivia. I'll get her."

"All right." Papers rustled on Emmett's end, followed by the soft tap of computer keys. "I'll text you the flight info."

"Good talking to you." My hand found the old baseball on my desk—the one from our last high school game together. "Don't be a stranger."

The typing stopped. "Same to you." A chair creaked. "And Nick."

The baseball was smooth under my fingers, worn spots mapping years of catches in his backyard. "Yeah."

"Take care of my sister." His voice had gone flat, emptied of everything but command. The words hung between us like a closing door, and for the first time, I wondered if this was more than just a favor between old friends.

The line went dead before I could respond. I set the baseball back in its stand.

Emmett's voice had carried something I couldn't quite name—more than just big-brother worry, but he was probably stressed about his baby sister leaving the nest. He'd been raising her since he was eighteen, which must have been hard on him.

Setting my phone down on my desk, I noticed a newspaper opened and left for me to see, most likely by my housekeeper, Arlena. I scanned through the page to find the newest gossip, rolling my eyes at the big picture of myself and my so-called latest "girlfriend," Kelsey Timberland.

Florida's most eligible bachelor might be off the market. Nicholas Pearson was spotted snuggled up Friday night with supermodel Kelsey Timberland, leaving a charity event hosted by Mr. Pearson. The two were rumored to share a limo leaving, and according to friends of Ms. Timberland, she didn't make it home until the following day. So, either the hottest playboy on the market has finally been tamed, or the two pulled an all-nighter.

"Where do they come up with this garbage?" I mumbled, shutting the paper and tossing it into the garbage. The trash they wrote became more and more comical with every new post.

Kelsey and I had shared a limo home, and I did indeed make a pass at her, and after a quick limo fuck, she'd insisted I drop her off at her secret boyfriend's house.

My phone started vibrating across the counter, and I expected it to be Olivia's flight info, but instead, Brittany's name appeared on the screen along with a picture I'd saved to her info. She'd texted me the extremely revealing photo one night when I'd been out of town and missed our weekly fling. She was lying on a bed completely naked except for a pair of purple six-inch fuck me heels and a seductive smile.

She'd wanted to make sure I didn't forget about her, and at the time, it was hot, but now it looked the same as every other girl's pic on my phone.

I dismissed Brittany's message with a swipe, but Emmett's words echoed in my head: "Take care of my sister." The same sister who'd once looked at me like I hung the moon—before I learned to disappoint everyone who cared about me.