Chapter 30
BEN
The Devil’s Playground hasn’t changed. But apparently, I have.
The low lights, leather, whiskey, and cigar smoke curling lazily toward a ceiling that’s seen more bad decisions than I care to count should bring a familiar comfort.
Yet the bass humming through my bones while confident, rich laughter rolls from every corner feels akin to nails on a chalkboard.
I spot Max already seated in our usual VIP area, scrolling through something on his phone. He looks up as I approach and lifts his glass in greeting.
“You look like hell.”
“Thanks.” I take another sip of my drink. “Feel worse,” I mutter, dropping into the seat across from him.
Last night at Shagbark won’t leave my head. Grace’s hurt. Her quiet disappointment at being taken advantage of. Figuring out it had all been an elaborate ruse. She’d been targeted. Brad took everything from her, pushing her to the very edge so that Victor could swoop in and make his move.
I didn’t know how to fix it. I haven’t slept. Haven’t eaten. Haven’t stopped replaying it. Because I’m regretting that I didn’t kill that asshole the first time. But the very last thing I need to do is go off half-cocked and get arrested, leaving her all alone.
Add to that the financial stress I’m under, making the biggest financial gamble of my life.
It feels as if the walls are caving in on me.
“I’m worried I’m going to lose a fortune if I’m not careful,” I admit.
“And I’m not made of billions like you are.
” I finish off my second bourbon of the night and wave over to where Cassidy stands, holding a silver tray.
Max shrugs easily. “It’s only money.” His eyes predictably take her in as she seductively comes closer.
Easy for him to say.
Yet before I can respond, movement catches my eye. The rest of the Billionaire Boys Club strolls toward us. Our ridiculous nickname, but one that stuck.
Gianni leads the way in a sharp suit, and a sharper grin. He always looks the part of the club owner in his three-piece black Armani.
Gianni Black is an enigma. I’m not sure anyone truly knows where Black’s money comes from.
He’s probably richer than all of us. I have my suspicions that he could somehow be tied to some underground family crime organization, but I don’t want to let my mind wander to things I have no control over.
And as much as I’d like to pump Max for intel, out of respect, I’m not going there.
This man has my allegiance until someone convinces me there’s a reason he shouldn’t.
My stepbrother Dev is beside him, gregarious as ever. Broadie Weston follows, cigar already lit, with Ryan Becket and Bedrock flanking him, the doctors who somehow manage to save lives by day and behave like degenerates by night.
Derek Hart, or Bedrock, as we refer to him, is a cardiologist. He attended Stanford and Johns Hopkins for his residency and fellowship programs. I believe he may have been introduced to the Devil’s Playground while he lived in the D.C.
area. He hasn’t worked in Hanover for very long, and I probably know less about him than any of the guys here.
From what I gather, I’m pretty sure he was looking for a fresh start after his wife’s death when he moved to Virginia.
“Hell.” I chuckle, standing as they reach us. “I can’t remember the last time we were all in the same room.”
We trade bro hugs and back slaps before everyone settles into their leather seats. It’s muscle memory more than affection at this point.
“Yes,” Gianni says with a grin. “We try to commit to meeting. But work keeps getting in the way.” He jerks his thumb at Broadie. “Except for this guy. Life’s all work-life-balance and some shit.”
Broadie smirks around his cigar. “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”
I sink back into the buttery-soft leather chair, watching them laugh.
The men I’ve built half my adult life around.
I’ve listened to their deals. The many risks they’ve taken.
All of the power plays. The rush of winning.
Wondering when I might be brave enough to go out on a limb.
And now that I have, I want to puke under the stress of it all.
Maybe I’m just not built like these guys.
Max studies me. “You’re distracted.”
“Yeah,” I admit. “Because this deal isn’t just about money.”
They all go quiet.
“This is my shot at building a brand that actually means something,” I continue. “Not another glass tower for people who don’t know my name. I want a business with purpose.”
Gianni lifts a brow. “You going soft on us, Banks?”
“No,” I say quietly. “I’m going after something that’s important to me.”
And suddenly, it hits me. If this gamble fails, I lose money.
But if I lose Grace, I lose everything. Glancing at my phone, I shift in my seat, half-expecting a message that isn’t there.
I don’t belong here tonight. Not sure what comfort I thought I’d find here.
Because my future isn’t in this room. It’s with her.
I only wish I knew how to fix what she’s going through.
To find a way to make those assholes pay for what they did to Grace, without increasing any risk to her.
It seemed clear by the look in her eyes she needed some time alone to process everything. I wasn’t sure leaving her there was the wise thing to do, but I’ll never deprive her of anything. Even if that’s my absence.
I tell myself I’m just having one more. Then maybe another. The bourbon burns warmer than it should, loosening things I normally keep locked down.
Gianni is halfway through some story about a zoning nightmare when I finally cut in.
“There’s this guy,” I say quietly. “Brad.”
Every head around the table turns to face me.
“Brad?” Max repeats.
I stare into my glass. “He’s… from Grace’s past.”
Broadie exhales smoke slowly. “You losing sleep over some ex?”
My jaw tightens. “No. I’m losing sleep because he hurt her. And now he’s back in her life.”
They exchange looks. The kind that says ah, that makes more sense. Someone needs to cut him off.
“So this isn’t about the hotel,” Gianni asks. “You’re wound tight because—”
“No,” I blurt, the response coming out sharper than I intend. “It’s not about my damn hotel.” The words tumble from my lips before I can think better of it. Okay, clearly, I’m not thinking at all. The bourbon is doing my thinking for me. “It’s about my wife.”
The room goes quiet.
“Excuse me. Did you say, wife?” Dev barks out. “You got married?”
Max slinks down into his chair.
“Does your mother know?” Dev presses.
I grimace. “No. I wasn’t sure if it was going to stick. Wanted to wait until I was certain before I told them.”
“Jesus. Who is this girl? Some chick you met in Vegas?”
Max nearly chokes on his beer.
“Yes and no.” I shouldn’t be having this conversation in front of everyone.
I’d never want them to think less of Grace because of how we got together.
But then again, I shouldn’t have married her and hidden it from everyone either.
Hell, this whole situation has been like something out of The Twilight Zone.
“Can we get back to who you were grumbling about taking advantage of your girl?” Gianni interrupts.
“Her ex-boyfriend, Braaaaad,” I drag out the name.
“He was apparently working some scheme with a photographer named Victor to entice vulnerable, pretty women to meet him for a chance to model.” I put air quotes around the word model.
“But once they get there, they take advantage of them. Getting topless photos… or worse.” My voice rises in anger.
“I want to fucking kill them. How many unsuspecting women have they tricked into posing for them?” And is that all they’ve been up to?
Hurting Grace is reason enough for me to want to eliminate them. But if there’s more…
“Then he had the nerve to put her photos in sleazy skin magazines after he told her she’d be in articles about skin care.
And never paid her one red cent.” I slam my highball glass down on the table.
“The poor girl was desperate. Trying to keep a roof over her and her mother’s heads.
Pay her mom’s damn medical bills. And those two assholes took advantage of her,” I spit.
Okay, time to walk away from the alcohol, Ben.
Gianni gets up from his seat and walks away after giving Max a brief glance.
Max puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “We’ve got this, Ben. Things will be taken care of. Just let us handle it.”
“Taken—”
“It’s better you don’t ask too many questions. Let’s just say, Gianni has friends who handle rodents that need extermination.”
Extermination? I bolt up in my chair, the idea I may have inadvertently put out a hit on someone causing me to sober a bit. “Shit.” What have I done?
“Calm down,” Dev says. “Don’t immediately go thinking like Tony Soprano. Gianni’s taking care of it. Doesn’t have to mean what you’re conjuring up in your pea-headed brain.” My stepbrother gives an annoyed shake of his head, typical of many I’ve received at his expense over the years.
Max’s words still sound pretty ominous to me. But so long as no harm comes to Grace, I’m fine with whatever exterminator they decide on.
Good thing I didn’t mention Grace’s father has started sniffing around.
I pull up in front of Grace’s house with my overnight bag on the passenger seat and a ridiculous amount of hope in my chest. I step out, already smiling… and freeze.
Her front door swings open, but instead of my wife, I’m greeted by her mother and Winnie, both standing there like a welcoming committee. Winnie’s grin is wicked. “Well, hello there, Mr. Honeymoon,” she chirps.
Her mother beams. “Grace will be back in a minute, sweetheart.”
“She just ran out to grab a couple last-minute things,” Winnie says.
Her mom leans in conspiratorially. “Apparently, they were very important.”
Winnie snorts. “I offered to take her shopping for nice new underwear. You know, honeymoon underwear.”