Page 1 of Ruthless Wars

Chapter One

Margot

One year earlier

“Not every woman enjoys climbing the corporate ladder.” It’s the last bit of good, wholesome sisterly advice I can give Jaclyn face-to-face, at least for a while. I need to make it count. “Don’t forget to take time away from empire-building. Maybe climb a guy.”

Out of nowhere, she wraps an arm around me, pulling close to lean that head of ass-length hair against my shoulder. The squeeze of her side hug does something to me.

Perusing the giant menu board at the downtown Dallas Starbucks, I keep my gaze high on the words I’ve seen a million times, intent on holding back the stubborn tear that wants to break free.

“Not finding anything?” Jaclyn asks, not bothering to actually place an order. With her daily need for high-octane caffeine, an unoriginal order of cappuccino with almond milk is already in her hand. The barista must have seen her coming.

I glance around, taking a quick inventory of the patrons of the nearly empty coffee shop. A rushed woman heads out with a newspaper, leaving only one other customer—an attractive man buried behind his laptop with a set of wireless earbuds in his ears. I tear my gaze away before I lose another wasteful second staring at him and pining for a life I’ve put on pause.

“I just can’t decide,” I say, letting my words trail off.

My salacious tone is enough to force Jaclyn’s hand over her face, smacking her smile to mask it. She already knows where I’m going with this.

“Please don’t embarrass me,” she whispers. “I’m in here every day.”

“Exactly. I promise that once I’m gone, you’ll remember me every single time you return.”

Encouraged, I watch the manager move behind the register, her fingers ready to punch in my order as she greets me with an attentive smile.

Grateful for an aproned barista who’s at least old enough to know what a cassette tape is, I’m eager to bypass the pretense of a PG scene and stamp my order Rated R.

With a seriously cocked brow, I tap a finger to my lips. “I’m not exactly sure what I want. Perhaps you can suggest something. I’d like something big,” I say, drawing out the word while my hands stroke the air suggestively, demonstrating the cup size desired with a distinct telescoping motion.

“Obviously,” the woman says, laughing in agreement and diving right into the deep end of an order for Starbucks—After Dark. Her wide grin shows off the bright lipstick of a woman who puts herself together well before the crack of dawn. She’s probably dying for a morning laugh.

I notice her nametag, the unusual spelling accented by a star. “See? Aimee gets me.”

“Hell yeah, I do,” Aimee says with an enthusiastic nod.

“Yes, the biggest you’ve got.”

“Size matters,” Aimee says matter-of-factly with a wink.

“Have you got a size that I can handle with both hands?”

“For the love of God, Margot, they don’t do Big Gulps here,” Jaclyn says impatiently, keeping her eyes down as she scrolls feverishly through her phone with one hand. Despite her narrowed eyes, her untamed smile keeps me going.

“And I need something creamy. And thick. Definitely thick and creamy.”

“You sound like a horny Rain Man.” By now, Jaclyn has set her drink down, freeing up her fingers to anxiously drum the countertop. My guess is she’s itching to get back to whatever semi-emergency is pulling her attention away.

“Don’t worry,” I tell her, bravely taking a daring sip of her coffee in the face of her unamused death glare. “Let me order my extra-big cup o’ cock, and we’ll head out.”

Startling me, a man clears his throat from right behind us, and Jaclyn and I both whirl around.

A tall man with his arms crossed gazes down at me. For anyone else, his closeness might be intimidating. But for me, he’s comfortably close, though I still have to crane my neck to look up at him. His height's impressive next to my petite frame, and my pulse races as I take all of him in.

His smile tilts just enough to give the pop of his brow a decidedly naughty look. And the tattoo peeking from beneath the short sleeve of his shirt fills me with curiosity. The gorgeous man is wearing a T-shirt unable to hide the carved muscles beneath its loose fit, and I feel myself gawking.

Where the hell were you twenty-four hours ago?

Trapped in the pull of desire that stirs between us, I fervently wish to God I had just one more night in Dallas.

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