Foolish Games: A BWWM Romance (Game of Chance Book 1) Read online

  FOOLISH GAMES

  A BWWM Erotic Romance

  Book 1

  By Sasha

  The journey to love is never easy… but often foolish…

  Zenobia Darcy’s life is in shambles. After a bad break up with her long-time lover and boss, she’s shut herself off, trying to mend her broken heart. Her sister, however, won’t let Zenobia wallow in self-pity any longer. Ignoring her protests, she drags Zenobia out for a ‘girl’s night out,’ which ends with a meeting—and one-night stand—with Miami’s top billionaire bachelor: Wesley White.

  But one night of fun and flings isn’t enough for Zenobia. She wants more and she wants the confident and charismatic Wes White. Will she be able to turn a one-time fling into a long-term love affair with the most elusive bachelor in Magic City?

  Chapter 1

  “I don’t want to go out.”

  Tasha sighed, coming into her room as though Zenobia hadn’t spoken. “Zenobia, it’s been weeks. Of course you want to go out.”

  “I’m pretty sure I don’t.”

  Tasha stopped in the middle of her bedroom, wrinkling her nose. “Jeez, can you clean up in here?”

  “Oh, shut up.”

  Tasha snorted, tying up her long, wavy dark hair in a ponytail. She kicked a pile of clothes out of her way and sat down on the edge of the bed.

  “I swear between you and Starr, I need a damn vacation.” She paused and raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. “I hope you aren’t naked under that duvet because I’m about to pull it off.”

  Zenobia groaned, trying to scramble for the sheets, but Tasha was quicker than she was. Her sister yanked it all off, balled it up and stuffed it under her arm with a smug smile.

  “This was due for washing two weeks ago. Now follow me. There’s a shower with your name on it.”

  “Go away,” Zenobia muttered miserably, burying herself in her pillow.

  She loved Tasha, she really did, but she wasn’t in the mood to play games.

  “No, I’m not moving until you become an active member of society again.”

  Her older sister moved closer to her on the mattress, her voice sympathetic. Zenobia peered at her from under the pillow, her eyes bloodshot and sad like someone who had spent all-night drinking bad tequila.

  “You can’t hide forever, you know.”

  Zenobia begged to differ.

  “It’s been only forty-two days now,” she mumbled. “Not forever.”

  “That’s still an impressive chunk of time to drink and sleep yourself into a coma.”

  “I haven’t,” Zenobia said grumpily.

  That was true. Zenobia might have had her heart broken, lost the job opportunity she’d been working on for the last few years, and become the topic of gossip amongst pretty much everyone at her office, but she had still managed to fake the funk and go about her life like she had her shit together. It would take more than a bad breakup to mess up her façade. But she couldn’t fake it when she was home, in her bedroom, or around her sister.

  There were times when Zenobia craved to just shut off her mind and let go. Even though she wouldn’t ever admit it to Tasha, she envied her sister and her ability to let things truly roll off her shoulders without a care of what people thought or felt around her. That wasn’t the case for Zenobia; all of her memories and feelings were just bottled up and waiting to burst out.

  “Come on, go shower and rejoin civilization.” Tasha stood from the bed and picked up the discarded clothes off the floor on her way out. “I’m going to start your laundry, and you better be all clean and cute when I get back.”

  Zenobia sighed. She knew it was pointless to argue with her. Tasha could get on military sergeant mode when she was determined. It had been just the two of them growing up and Zenobia had grown used to her sister’s demands and stubbornness.

  She stood and stumbled over to the bathroom, where most of Sebastian’s possessions were still hanging around like permanent fixtures. She really should start cleaning up the shattered remains of their relationship, box them all up, and then burn them. Of course, she could donate them to a local homeless shelter so at least some good could come out if it.

  Then again, maybe not. It would just be cruel to give some poor man her ex’s trash. She would just toss his shit out, along with the rest of her memories of that asshole. That would be the most respectable, and maybe most therapeutic thing to do.

  Zenobia shook her head then grimaced. She stepped under the blistering hot spray of the shower, grateful for the steam waking up her senses. She needed it since she must have surely lost them when she thought she had a future with the likes of Sebastian Stone. He had surely forgotten about her by now so she needed to do the same and hopefully soon their break up would be just old news, and life would go on as usual.

  Or maybe it wouldn’t…

  A sudden knock on the bathroom door startled her and she nearly slipped on the wet shower tiles.

  “Hey! Don’t take too long. We’re going out tonight and we don’t need you coming out looking like a raisin.”

  Zenobia groaned. “I’m not Starr. I don’t do post-break-up rebound hook-ups.”

  “You need to see something besides this dirty room.” Tasha came fully into the bathroom, her tall, curvy figure distorted through the glass panel of the shower door. “I mean it. I’m not letting you continue this pity—party any longer.”

  “Tasha, I’m doing fine.”

  “That dirty ass room says otherwise.” She placed some clothes on the counter by the mirror. “Now get dressed.”

  “Don’t I get a say in the matter?”

  “Nope.”

  Her sister walked out and Zenobia turned off the shower, screeching, as usual, when the last trickles of cold water dripped down her back. Maybe her sister was right. It had been long enough. Also, she strongly suspected that the pile of mail sitting on her kitchen counter was mainly composed of bills she had been ignoring. Soon it would be time to start looking for a new job. One that possibly didn’t involve her boss screwing her over then breaking her heart.

  She toweled herself dry then turned to face the mirror. She had to hand it to Tasha, she really did look like shit. Her big brown eyes were circled with dark bags that made her look older then her twenty-four years. Her thick, curly dark hair hung down around her chocolate brown face and forehead like a wild, messy mop.

  Not at all cute.

  Tasha poked her head into the bathroom again. Zenobia was so used to her doing that she didn’t even bother covering herself up.

  “Would you hurry up? I made reservations at Casa Blanca’s and we can’t be late there.”

  Zenobia groaned. What the hell was she thinking? Casa Blanca’s was not where she wanted to spend her first night out at. It was where her no-good ex—and no-good boss—used to take her. And her damn sister knew that well.

  “I’m not going there.”

  “Yes, you are,” Tasha said. “And you’re gonna have fun. Now c’mon before I drag you and all that ass of yours out here. Naked.”

  Zenobia stared after her sister, too busy gaping at her retreating back to follow orders. Sometimes she hated being the youngest. She turned back at the mirror and stared at her tired, sad self again.

  “Casa Blanca’s?” she thought to herself. “Fuck.”

  ****

  Casa Blanca’s was a popular club and where all the sexy people of Miami hung out. Not only that, but anyone who was anyone came out here, and there were plenty of women who were looking to snag themselves a baller or celebrity for the night. And they didn’t just let anyone in. No matter how good you looked. To get into Casa Blanca’s, y
ou had to know the right people. And Tasha, an aspiring model and part-time fashion designer, definitely knew all the right people.

  “Do we have to be here?”

  “Yes we do, Zenobia,” Tasha replied serenely. “Because I’ll be damned if I let you crawl back in bed and turn back into some troll too scared to leave the house. Beside, you look good tonight, so work it!”

  Zenobia shook her head. “I don’t feel up to this. I’m not in the mood for dancing or hooking up.”

  “You don’t have to. Just get someone to buy you a drink and just chill out. And at the end of the night, if you feel like getting laid, then you get laid. That’s how Starr and Xavier got together,” her sister added.

  “They lucked out,” Zenobia replied sarcastically. “And anyway, I’m not here to find my next boyfriend. I have some dignity left, thank you very much.”

  “Fine,” Tasha said, rolling her eyes. “Then just go find someone to buy you a drink and screw your brains out. You deserve a good fuck tonight. Hell, why should Sebastian have all the fun, right?”

  Zenobia blushed. “Keep your voice down,” she muttered, though no one could have possibly heard her sister with the loud music blaring from the speakers. .

  Tasha tossed her flat-iron straight hair back, adjusting her fine jewelry as she kept one eye on the dance floor, absently checking out the crowd. Zenobia tried to melt against the wall, hoping she could find a way to shrink away.

  “There’s no harm in getting laid, Zenobia,” Tasha said in her best no-nonsense voice.

  Zenobia raised a brow. “Says who?”

  “Says me,” Tasha snapped as she grabbed Zenobia’s hand and dragged her away from the corner and towards the bar. “Now let’s go.”

  “No,” Zenobia muttered, digging in her heels, though it didn’t help that her heels where four inches high. “Stop, Tasha, I don’t—”

  “Hello.”

  Zenobia turned to the deep voice that had spoken. She froze. Was that…?

  Oh God, it is.

  It was Wesley White: the sexiest man she’d had ever laid eyes on and the owner of Casa Blanca’s, plus another half dozen of Miami’s hottest nightclubs and restaurants.

  “Hi,” was all Zenobia could manage, none too smoothly.

  She always had a talent for embarrassing herself in front of people. And Wes, with his crystal blue eyes, golden blond hair, and the most beautiful smile she’d ever seen on a man, was the one person Zenobia really did not need to meet after forty-two days of celibacy and a stalled out BOB in the back of her panty drawer.

  Did she really look as good as Tasha claimed? With so much time hidden away in her apartment, the last thing she wanted Wesley White to see when he looked at her was a sad, pathetic girl still pining for her ex. Especially when her ex happened to be a good friend of his.

  “How are you doing, Zenobia?” he said, breaking the long silence between them. “Long time no see.”

  Zenobia had better remember how to speak before his soft smile turned into confusion.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yep,” Zenobia said too loudly, and too cheerfully.

  He studied her closely then asked, “Can I get you a drink?”

  Zenobia nodded and smothered a groan as she realized her sister had practically left her to fend for herself. Wes grabbed her hand and led her to the bar.

  “What would you like?”

  She shrugged. “Anything strong enough to knock me out.”

  Wes chuckled and slid a pink-tinted cocktail her way. “You wouldn’t want to miss out on the fun and dancing, now would you?”

  Zenobia shrugged again and picked up the drink in front of her. I’d have more fun in my bed. She glanced at Wes then quickly turned away. She didn’t want to get any ideas but man did he look good tonight. Maybe she should pick up some batteries for BOB before she got back home tonight.

  “I’m sorry about what happened with you and Sebastian,” Wes said close to her ear. “But I can’t say that I’m disappointed. Save me a dance later.”

  Zenobia blinked, nearly spilling the pink cocktail all over herself as Wes left her staring after him, her heart beating rapidly in her chest.

  What did he mean he wasn’t disappointed?

  It had been months since she’d last seen the sexy club owner, and that had been when she thought she had something serious with Sebastian and had felt proud when he wanted to take her out finally and introduce her to some of his friends. The attraction she’d felt for Wes has been instant, but she had been with Sebastian and, unlike her asshole ex, she was no cheater.

  “Move that fine ass of yours,” Tasha said excitedly, coming up beside her. “There’s a group of athletes over there that could use some company. Some dime level company. ”

  Zenobia was still looking through the crowd, hoping she could catch a glimpse of Wes. “You go ahead.”

  Her sister grabbed her hand and pulled her along as she said, “Oh no, you don’t. I’m not gonna watch you set your sights on one guy tonight. You need to keep these guys on rotation, even the rich one. If one doesn’t work out then you move on to the next. And yes, even Wesley White is replaceable.”

  Zenobia looked around again to find Wes surround by some very scantily-dressed girls who hung on to his every word. The charming smile he gave the woman had been the same one he’d given her. She quickly looked away. Had she read too much into his comment?

  Save a dance for me later.

  He probably told all the girls that line. Maybe her sister was on to something. Maybe she needed to let loose a little and have some fun. Hell, it was easier for these guys to change women like they changed underwear. Why couldn’t she do the same?

  “Alright,” Zenobia muttered. “Maybe I’ll do some dancing.”

  “That’s my girl,” her sister said, pleased.

  Zenobia shook her head, nervous about the idea of possibly hooking up with someone tonight. She’d never had a one-night stand before and even Sebastian had wooed her for several weeks before she had decided to sleep with him. She was really stepping out of her comfort zone but then again, she was also tired of sitting on the sidelines. Besides, what did she have to lose?

  Well, apparently, she had a great deal of time to lose. Almost an hour had passed, and Zenobia had spent that entire time sitting at a table alone in the corner of the VIP table with the few drunk athletes and women that hadn’t got up to go dancing. Tasha was off somewhere only God knew and had pretty much left Zenobia on her own, tearing up the piece of napkin that had been left behind by the other occupants. She stole a glance at the couple locked in a passionate embrace at the table besides her. Others were either dancing, laughing, or sharing elusive smiles with people they were trying to entice near.

  So much for trying to let her guard down and have fun. If she’d had a sign that rotated above her head saying “Loser,” it would have completed her night. It was already clear to Zenobia that she didn’t really belong in the cool category. It wasn’t something that troubled her anymore.

  “When is this torture going to be over?” she murmured to herself, frustrated.

  Leaving now sounded like a great plan at that moment. Pretty much anything else would have been better. Even drinking herself into a coma in her rundown apartment sounded like a lot more fun.

  It did bother Zenobia that Wes was the one witnessing it this time. And, apparently, feeling sorry for her, if the way he was looking at Zenobia was of any indication.

  There was only so much humiliation Zenobia could stand in one night. She was just about to give up and walk out of the club when a stranger dropped in the seat in front of her, beaming and carrying two glasses of sparkly white wine.

  “Hi,” the stranger said coolly. “I’m Grant.”

  And that, right there, was exactly why Zenobia shouldn’t be allowed to talk in public. Or at all. “Are you—alone?” she blurted out, then groaned inwardly from the embarrassment.

  Grant cocked his head to the side, obviously puzz
led. “Well, I’m not on a date.”

  “No, uh, no, no I know… I’m sorry, that’s not what I—”

  “It’s cool.” Grant smiled brightly. “What’s your name?”

  “Zenobia,” she muttered, extending her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  “How come you’re sitting here all on your own?” Zenobia flushed again.

  “Uh, nice question.” Grant’s grin softened. “Maybe I’m just exceptionally lucky.”

  The line was cheesy, but the delivery wasn’t. It sounded as though Grant genuinely meant it, and Zenobia relaxed slightly. The booze helped as well. Soon they were chatting freely about likes and dislikes, dos and don’ts. There wasn’t much that could be said with a sixty-second hourglass, but when the last of the gray-blue sand trickled away, neither Grant nor Zenobia made a move to stand. After a short while, Grant’s hand had moved to Zenobia’s wrist, not possessive, not uncomfortable, just there. He was attentive to every word Zenobia said, nodding in all the right moments. Zenobia smiled—for the first time in quite a while.

  Grant was incredibly good-looking. He had kind, warm hazel eyes, dark hair curling at the back of his neck—maybe in need of a good trim, but it fit him somehow. As they went on talking, Zenobia learned that Grant was a journalist and worked just a few blocks off Main Street—conveniently close to Zenobia’s apartment. Zenobia caught sight of Wes behind the bar, and she thought that for a moment Wes’s face was knotted in a frown. It was just a trick of the light, though, because the moment Wes caught her eye he smiled, big and bright, and gave her an enthusiastic thumbs up.

  “Do you want to go someplace else?” Grant asked her, and Zenobia, too busy staring at Wes’s smile, nearly missed it.

  “Oh, uh… sure.” She flushed again, the pointed tips of her ears burning fiery red. “Um… my place?”

  “Lead the way.”

  That’s exactly what Zenobia did. Trusting that Tasha wouldn’t miss her, she picked up her coat and sneaked a glance towards the bar, where Wes was entertaining a small clutter of customers, his cocktail shaker swishing mid-air.