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“Come in and grab some plates with me.” Natalie says, pointing at me with a nod toward the house and I follow, watching her waddle as she goes.
“So, what are the rest of your Saturday plans? Sleep?” she asks.
I open the door from the patio to the kitchen as she goes in ahead of me. Sophia is nowhere to be seen, but that’s not unusual. If she’s not at her restaurants, they’re calling her a thousand times a day. I don’t know how Chance puts up with her sassy ass, but I’m just happy he does.
“No.” I answer Natalie. “I’m playing at Reginald Park in some kid’s charity softball game at ten. Fuck knows how long that will take.”
What I want to be doing is going balls deep into my mystery girl. Giving her every inch of this stiffy I can’t control. I think of the pouty smirk she tossed me before she headed out the door. The way her ass looked in her white jeans and her tits, fuck, filling out the lavender tank top like it was custom made to fit her.
I have to figure out how to find her. How to make her mine. Blonde, about five foot five, maybe twenty years old, maybe one forty, one fifty, curves to kill and blue fucking eyes like the summer sky. That’s all I got. Wonder how long it will take to track her down…
My other option is to go pound the shit out of every swinging dick at the game last night until someone gives me a morsel of information.
That’s plan A. Right after this fucking softball game.
“You? Charity? Kids?” Natalie chuckles with a smirk handing me a stack of white plastic plates as she grabs the syrup and silverware in a metal carrier.
“I know, right?”
“Must have been some hit you took.”
I shrug. “I’m fine. Doesn’t hurt.”
“Well, that’s good and the charity game sounds like fun.”
Fun.
Sure.
As much as a pair of sunburned balls I bet.
Chapter Two
Anna
It’s the perfect summer day. White fluffy clouds glide aimlessly across the blue sky. It’s not too hot, no chance of rain and I’m excited for the game. Not so much for me, but for my kids. My team.
Everything is going to plan until the ‘ringer’ my father was supposed to secure for me shows up and I want to call the whole thing off.
My father told me he would be sure to get me someone that would help our team win. I didn’t think he meant one of his goons from the poker table.
I watched the enormous blacked-out SUV pull up, then when the driver’s door opened, and the broody, dark-haired hunk stepped out, I knew immediately who he was.
Cyrus Saman.
I know because my father talks too much and tells me every monolithically boring detail about his poker games, along with descriptions of all the players. It’s fine, I take care of the profit and loss accounting for his games, so I guess he thinks I need to know more than I really do.
From what he’s told me, Cyrus is arrogant, and an asshole, at least when he’s playing cards. I’d never seen him before last night.
I was later than usual getting to the penthouse making sure the chips and money for the night were ready then securing them in the safe where only my father had access.
My father has told me many things about Mr. Saman, besides his skill at cards. He dabbles in many businesses. Some legit, some not. I know he has a thing for jewelry. Rare pieces, gems with a story behind them, antique items from history and of course, the bigger and more expensive the better.
Legit or not, that doesn’t bother me.
My father’s never been one to operate completely above the law himself, and my inherent talent for numbers had me keeping the family and business books from the age of fifteen, so I knew early on where our money came from.
I re-focus on the enormous, lumbering man walking near the dugout and wonder why he’s staring at me like I’m the cherry on top of his hot fudge sundae.
