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Don’t Say a Word
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She’s here to clean up my image.
Lacey’s my assigned public relations manager.
Hush little secret baby… Daddy’s here for good.
Don’t Say a Word is a full length standalone romance with no cheating and no cliffhangers. It features a muscular, tattooed billionaire bad boy athlete and a curvy, strong heroine who find their happily ever after.
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Chapter 1 – Hanson
There were so many hot women up in here. From the sad-eyed, impatient-looking chicks who had to wait in line because they didn’t have a connection to let them in ahead of all the rest of the poor saps, to the cocktail waitresses dancing on the bar to the bachelorette party attenders shaking their asses on the dance floor in celebration of their BFF’s final night of freedom, I couldn’t even keep up with the number of amazingly stunning women all around me. This was my perfect idea of a Friday night.
The White Room was the kind of night club the who’s who of Miami went to. Situated in Mid-Beach, the glamorous club was part of the Fontainebleau Hotel and a hot spot for famous folk and VIP regulars. I went there all the time. If I was going to get wasted, I was going to do it in style.
Did it cost a lot of money? Hell yeah. But as the Safety for the Miami Dolphins Football team— at least, when my ass wasn’t suspended— I had enough cash to get fucked-off-my-face drunk without blinking at my bill at the end of the night.
The venue, the service, and the music was the shit, and that’s why hot women from all over came to the club. If there was anything that made me a happy man, it was a woman in a dress that left very little to the imagination.
Tonight, the club was packed. It consisted of a huge dance floor with banquet booths on the bottom floor, stairs that descended from the doors so you could scope out whoever came in, and sky boxes on the second floor that looked out over the dance floor. Sky boxes were reserved for VIPs like us, so that’s where we were hanging out tonight, just like all the other nights we came here.
I leaned on the chrome railing and looked out over the crowd with a glass of expensive whiskey in my hand. The music throbbed like a racing pulse, and bodies writhed to the beat. The air smelled of sweat and lust, an intoxicating combination.
“Man, it’s good to kick back,” Brian said, splayed out on one of the white leather couches. “I swear that last game fucked me up. I’m aching all over.”
“Is your face hurting?” I couldn’t help the smirk lifting my lip. I loved dicking around with Brian. He was too easy sometimes.
“Fuck you too.” He rolled his eyes and chuckled. “My face is not hurting, and it’s not killing you. All these women around here are looking at me, idiot. You know this.”
I shrugged and sipped my whiskey. He was an idiot, but I would keep him around. I turned a little as my back ached. He was bent over thanks to the last game; I was just sore from a shitty night of sleep.
Getting hurt in the game was an occupational hazard. Brian McMurry was the Running Back for the Dolphins. He was good at what he did and a fan favorite. He was also my best friend. We had played for the Hurricanes together before we’d been selected for the team, and if there was anyone I would turn to in a crisis, it was Brian.
“How long until you’re back in action?” Brian asked. “You must be losing your shit not playing for so long.”
I nodded. “Losing my shit” was an accurate description. Not playing drove me crazy, but I had to deal with it. Life was all about the choices you made.
“Two more games,” I said, rolling my shoulders. “Then I’m back.”
I turned toward Brian and sat down, too. Brian sipped a glass of soda water like a teetotaler. He had training in the morning. The Dolphins started at six, and we had to “Focus-Listen-Learn,” as the signage above the door to the training facility reminded us. It was hard to do that when you had so much alcohol in your system the world spun when you stood still.
I would know. While I was off, though, I could drink as much as I wanted to, but that wasn’t much of a benefit, considering the serious trouble I was in with the team.
Being suspended wasn’t a joke. I would rather play and be sober most of the time than wasted and watching my team on television.
“Thanks for saving my ass,” Brian said. “You know, for taking the fall.”
I waved my hand dismissively. “Don’t sweat it. Really.”
Brian nodded, but I could see the tightness in his shoulders. He didn’t want anyone doing anything for him. We were the same in that way.
“You’re talking to Coach on Wednesday?” he asked.
I nodded. Wednesday was the day Coach had asked me to come in to talk about my public image. My suspension for driving under the influence had been tacked on to the bottom of a whole list of infractions, mostly to do with women. I had to clean my act up a little if I wanted to show my face in public again.