Page 1 of Chase
Chapter one
Guilty Pleasures Gentlemen’s Club, London
November 2022
Russell
Matted gray fur gives way as the small bones crunch under my Guccis. The rodent’s small body flattens beneath my weight. The light is dim in the closed betting shop doorway, but I can see the dead animal sprawled on the concrete. I push harder, watching foul liquid ooze from its body. It was half-dead when I arrived. I gave the pest one final send-off to hell, where all vermin, human or animal, should go.
The alleyway is crammed with overflowing refuse bins. The smell of rotting food fills my nostrils, causing me to balk. Murky dampness runs over the cold stone walls; I’m careful not to touch it, determined not to ruin my insanely expensive cashmere suit. The whole place is grim and where you would expect to find petty criminals, not a lawyer who defends some of the wealthiest people in London.
Fuck’s sake. I curse myself internally. What have I become? A pathetic lurker outside a gentlemen’s club, looking for a woman who barely gives me the time of day? A woman who has shown no interest in me beyond any other client who watches her strip.
A woman I would do anything to get my hands on.
Samantha Coleman made one hell of a first impression when she came to alert my brother and me of our little sister’s precarious situation. She entered my life in a blaze of independence, and I want to be the one to make her need a man. It’s become my mission to get her to beg for me.
That perplexing night replays once again in my mind. The confusion of lust and hatred clouds my judgment like it does every time I go back to the memory. A female has never affected me the way Samantha does. I already know she’ll be nothing but fucking trouble.
“Get out of my face, you arrogant piece of shit,” Samantha had snarled when I called her a liar after she appeared outside our apartments one evening in September. My jaw had dropped with the audacity of that little bitch. Her delicate fingers spread across my chest then pushed me backward. I stepped away without thinking, and she responded by moving forward into my space.
I looked down at this stunning woman bursting with rage. Her blonde hair curled messily in all directions, and her intense blue eyes burned. Her voluptuous breasts were barely contained within the beige trench coat she wore, her long bare legs extending beneath the hem. She was still speaking, but I didn’t hear her. All I could think about was the body under the fabric and what I could do to it. How much pleasure I would get from controlling it.
“Don’t ever invade my space again, you creep. Who the hell do you think you are?” she snapped.
“My father wouldn’t allow Violet to go back to Chicago with that arsehole,” I countered grumpily, then crossed my arms over my chest to stop myself from reaching for her. My fingertips ached to touch her fired-up flesh.
“He isn’t allowing it. He’s fucking arranging it. Catch up, you absolute idiot,” she shot back. “Were you not listening to a word I said?”
A woman had never talked to me like she did.
I always call the shots with women, but this one is different. My Rolex watch, hard-ass attitude, and articulate speech didn’t impress her. Wilful eyes surveyed me as if I was a piece of shit on her shoe. When she focused on me, her nose pinched with disgust, but it was her expression that stung most; all I could see was pity.
Regardless, she looked both delectable and fuckable. And in need of a hard spanking. I’ve been obsessed with her ever since. Thoughts of her smart mouth and delicious figure have consumed my every waking hour. No other woman is of interest, only her. If I don’t satisfy this craving soon, I may go insane.
That’s why at this moment I’m hidden in the shadowed doorway across from Guilty Pleasures. Samantha hasn’t arrived yet, but I’ll wait here until she does. Then I’ll straighten my suit and walk in like the paying patron I am. Since I met her a matter of weeks ago, all I’ve wanted to do is force her to submit to me, bend to my will, be mine. I’ve watched. I’ve waited. I’ve craved. Now I’m ready to collect what I’m owed.
The one problem with my plan is this—she’s fucking my brother.
I’m not a man who chases a woman. I’ve never needed to. Normally, they flock to me if I show them a little interest. The only time the game of chase needs to be played is when I compete for her attention with another man—most often my brother, Connor. Since we were teenagers, we loved to go after the same girl, rubbing each other's noses in our success.
Once, our school dance was a hunting ground, and our target was a pretty little brunette whose name I can’t even remember. We spent the weeks leading up to the big day romancing our prey. She eventually chose me, and I loved parading her around the school gym hall on that night, much to my brother’s disgust. For the majority of the evening we glared at one another, until the girl I won became boring and I left her standing by the drinks table. Connor and I escaped the event with a bottle of vodka in search of more exciting entertainment. We toasted our short competition, then returned to being best friends.
But the rivalry over Samantha is different. Connor seems besotted already, and he has no idea about the desire I have for her. When he speaks to me of their short relationship, there’s something in his voice I’ve never heard before. My sense tells me he cares for her, but my jealousy hopes he doesn’t. If my brother is falling for the girl I want, I’m not sure it is a competition I can win. I’m not sure what would be worse—losing the girl or breaking my brother’s heart. But then again, if I don’t try, her taste will only ever be a mystery, and I’m not sure I can live with that.
The only woman I ever truly wanted before now was also one I could never have. She was the wife of one of my closest friends, the only permanent female in our group. Connie and Damon had been teenage sweethearts and were together twenty years when she was cruelly murdered over a year ago. The pain of losing her when she had never been mine was indescribable. It still is.
When the news of her death reached me, I collapsed in the middle of my office, unable to process the information. She was everything a man like me never gets. Both kind and loyal, Damon and her family were her everything. My soul wishes I could experience that kind of love for myself, but my head knows I would never be capable of giving the same.
So, I’ll continue to watch the woman I want to experience now from the shadows, understanding that she will never be mine. I’m a man who doesn’t deserve love. Most likely, I’m incapable of feeling it. All I feel is the intense need to control and possess something out of my reach, a possession that isn’t mine. Yet.
The first time I followed Samantha, it wasn’t a planned event. After our initial meeting, I needed to find out more about the bundle of fury who had put me in my place. It had been easy to obtain basic information, my sister being her close friend and having a loose tongue. I’d utilized my contacts to find the rest. Once I had her address, I was able to frequent her apartment, standing outside to catch a glimpse of the elusive Samantha Coleman.
Last week, while staking her out from the dingy café across the street, I witnessed a group of youths urinating in the doorway to her home. That, combined with other unsanitary and disgusting practices I’d seen during my few hours there, led me to decide that this area was not where she should be living. Sure, it was close to her job at the strip club, but if I had my way she wouldn’t be there much longer. So, after a few phone calls, I organized her eviction due to fabricated issues with the building. As part of the process, Samantha and one of her roommates were offered an alternative apartment at a reduced rate in a better area. I secured the lease and subsidized the cost during the same phone call. She moves in January.
Unbeknownst to Samantha, she’s moving closer to Canary Wharf—where I live. She will live in an apartment partly paid for by me, and I’ll ensure that this intriguing woman is safe from the dangers of London, whatever the cost.
Once I’d allowed myself to watch for her at her apartment, it had been simple to pick up her trail. Through my contacts at Guilty Pleasures, I was able to access her work schedule. The first night I sat down with a direct view of the pole, she had paused when our eyes met before she lifted her gaze and ignored me. She’s been pretending I don’t exist ever since.