Try and Play Me, Boy (The Playgirls #2) Page 3

  She closed her robe and turned her heels, heading towards her desk as she said:

  “Go, then. If I needed an ego bashing, I’d look in the mirror. Funny enough, I’m in no mood for a fuck now.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Alice. I’m not in the mood for a fuck either, I’m just concerned about you, dammit!”

  She shrugged and turned around, locking herself in her bathroom.

  •

  By the beginning of February, Alice was ready to murder Colt.

  Every other part of her life was going well – her friends were pretty damn awesome, and after three weeks of intense editing, her novel was ready for publishing; she’d even gotten the trendy author she’d interviewed back in October to give her a review.

  But there was one hiccup.

  One major hiccup.

  There was no denying it – not anymore. She couldn’t ignore the signs or tell herself that there had been some sort of cosmic error somewhere.

  She was freaking pregnant.

  As she hadn’t partaken in any sexual activity with anyone bar her various Bobs and Colt for fifteen months, it was safe to assume that the baby daddy was Colt Bloody Colburn – Bobs, for all their wonderful additional features, didn’t come with a set of sperm-filled balls.

  Colt deserved to die a slow, painful death for being a careless asshole, she decided, when her head was down in the toilet bowl at three in the afternoon.

  Morning sickness? Ah. If only. What she suffered could only be described as ’round-the-clock oral diarrhea. Yep, it was that gross.

  She couldn’t even go to work anymore; or anywhere for that matter. She felt lightheaded twenty-four seven, and most slightly strenuous activities zapped her out for hours; then, there was the dizzy spells. They came out of the blue, and made her wary of going out – especially behind the wheel of a car.

  Linda had been a gem; they were too small of a team to do without her entirely, especially since her columns received more mail than any others, but Alice was only given her subjects she could research from the comfort of her own bedroom – or bathroom, most of the time.

  Well, Linda had been a gem on the work front. The rest, not so much.

  She, Emma and Lucy cornered her and did an intervention, as though she’d been some sort of a deviant.

  They’d started with a lot of rubbish about what an amazing person she was, before launching into the ‘but’ portion.

  But, according to her friends, she was being an idiot.

  “Honey, you’re going to have to tell him.”

  Alice crossed her arms on her chest in the international I’m a hormonal, pissed-off female stance, and hissed back: “Of course I’m going to tell him.”

  But she was about four weeks pregnant. Hell, she hadn’t even taken a test yet, let alone spoken to a doctor – that would involve going out of the house. The way she saw it, she had two to three months of respite; she could wrap her head around the shit-storm before making it an ultra-mega-shit-convention by involving Cheating Ass the Fifth.

  There were an infinity of potential reactions, but they all revolved around one fact: Colt would be a dick about it.

  Option one: Happy Colt. After the requisite freak out, he’d realize he wanted a kid, and ask for shared custody, which meant that she’d have to see him for the next eighteen years, minimum. She’d get to see him after he’d found a socialite perfect enough to renounce his playboy way and settle down with; and she’d be the pathetic, probably single ex on the sidelines.

  No. Fucking. Dice.

  Option two: Grumpy Colt. In that case, the requisite freak out would follow up a let’s ignore the problem and she’d have no other choice than to murder him in his sleep.

  Option three: Traditional Colt. He could give her the old-fashioned response to such dilemmas, otherwise known as Shotgun Wedding. There would be a shotgun, alright.

  Option four: Dead Meat. I want a paternity test.

  Yeah, she’d have to get Emma to remove every sharp object from the house, when she told him.

  Alice had every intention to offer a paternity test, actually, but if he demanded one, he was toast.

  Option five: No One Will Ever Find the Body. How about getting rid of it?

  She was informing him because he’d been involved in the conception, and that was the right thing to do, but it was her womb, therefore, her choice.

  This pregnancy wasn’t the one she’d imagined when she’d thought she’d be a mum someday – because she wasn’t in a picket fence house with a dotting husband and a dog named Pedro.

  But she was a self-reliant, strong, responsible woman of twenty-six, not a high school girl.

  Apparently, her friends didn’t see that by delaying the inevitable conversation, she was being nice, and allowing Colt to live a little bit longer, because they carried on telling her off.

  “Alice, avoiding the matter is childish. It’s not going to make it disappear. Forget Colt. But you’re throwing up more than you’re ingesting, and you still haven’t seen anyone about it. That’s endangering you and your baby.”

  She shivered at that, and her arms fell to her sides. Lucy’s tone had been sweet and gentle, but it wouldn’t have made a difference if she’d yelled.

  My baby.

  She’d never thought about it like that.

  Alice was pregnant. Alice was scared. Alice was pissed off…

  But what about her baby?

  When they'd considered the consequences of their foolishness a few weeks back, she'd freaked out, but Colt had smiled and made it abundantly clear that he'd welcome a child of hers.

  Theirs.

  Her hand was on her stomach without her consciously choosing to put it there, and suddenly, she rose from her seat, making for the wardrobe.

  It was a little chilly out, so she picked her leather jacket which would hide Mickey Mouse’s face; the long jumper she wore over yoga pants was more or less ok without it.

  “Alice,” Linda groaned, “Running isn’t going to solve anything.”

  She wasn’t running; not anymore.

  “Sorry, I love you all,” she swore, storming past them. “But I need to go speak to Colt.”

  Chapter 5:

  She hadn’t even bothered answering to his last texts, and the phone call went straight to voicemail; Colt hadn’t seen her since she’d kicked him out three weeks ago.

  He got the message loud and clear.

  “Slow down, it’s not even ten, buddy.”

  Why did he persist in going out with such annoyingly whinny guys? Oh, yeah. Because his brothers had stopped indulging him, and those idiots were supposed to be his friends.

  Brett and Jack had answered his call last week, and they’d accompanied him every night since, but they’d only properly joined on Saturday; now, they whined about his alcohol intake instead of sharing his tray full of shots.

  Oh, well, more for him.

  The girl who batted her lashes at him since he’d made it in hadn’t hardened his cock at first, but now he’d had a second look – or a twelfth shot – she wasn’t that bad. And her hair was cut short. Short hair was the best.

  He took her home – well, technically, Brett took her home because he wouldn’t let him drive his own car himself, apparently.

  Colt didn’t remember much of the encounter – there had been a high pitched voice moaning a lot, which explained some of his headache, and he'd had to close his eyes to be able to come. Then he turned her on her tummy and imagined Alice, although the stranger’s body wasn't nearly as appealing. He'd come again – and so had the girl. All around, a good distraction, but when he woke the next day, the woman was still there.

  He groaned in his pillow, because of his hangover as much as the fact that he'd taken another troll to his bed.

  Well, not really, the kid was no troll; but she wasn't Alice either.

  A glance left did reveal two condoms on the floor – thank fuck, even drunk, he wasn’t that stupid.

  He wasn’t ever
that stupid, unless Alice’s tight pussy was involved.

  Colt shook that thought; he wasn’t going there today. Not before coffee.

  He woke the brunette, got her out of his bed and his home; perhaps a little bit abruptly, given the fact that she was cursing a lot of “assholes” on her way out.

  The cursing didn’t help his acute headache.

  He took a long, boiling hot shower, trying to scrape the nasty smell of booze and sex off his skin, and returned to his bedroom semi-human.

  That’s only then that he looked at is phone.

  The message was short and not-so-sweet.

  We’re done; don’t call, don’t text – ever again.

  His world collapsed with those simple words.

  He wasn’t sure why it hurt that bad, given the fact that he’d assumed as much; but seeing that message in black and white under Alice’s name was worse than any kind of pain he’d ever felt. Now it really was finished.

  Colt read it again, and again; by the time his hangover recessed, the venom transpiring in her words was puzzling him.

  When she’d thought he might have been cheating, she’d been cold, sarcastic, but that was another level altogether. He could imagine her sister saying that; it was a bitch’s statement, and Alice was no bitch.

  Colt froze quite suddenly, and grabbed his phone, ringing through to the concierge downstairs.

  “Alain, I’m calling from the 12A. Did you have an authorized visitor logged in last night for me? After twelve?”

  He couldn’t imagine why she would have come to his home, given the fact that she’d ignored him for close to a fortnight, but the timing was one coincidence he wasn’t overlooking.

  “No sir,” the guy answered, and Colt breathed out in relief, but then, he added, “She didn’t log in, she stayed down in the lobby, until you made it home with… company. The lady left afterwards.”

  His blood ran cold. Shit. Shit. Triple shit.

  But at the same time, that’s what she’d wanted. Colt couldn’t understand her. She’d pushed him away, dammit!

  “Are you sure?”

  “Certain, sir. My shift started at eleven and finishes in ten minutes; I spoke to her myself.”

  •

  He tried the flat, first, and Emma seemed friendly enough, so he had to assume Alice hadn’t told her what happened; the gorgeous, confident redhead was not the kind of woman who held back; she would have at least threatened his balls if she’d known.

  Colt might have felt better if she had.

  “She packed last night,” Emma said, and it sounded almost like an apology. “She didn’t say where she was going; it could be a work trip… but she took two cases, so she might be on holidays. Not sure.”

  “Don’t girls share everything?” he tried to seem charming, but his usually easy smile was forced as fuck.

  Emma shrugged.

  “Alice has friends all over the place, and she loves going away from time to time. Last year, she spent three months in New York, and every week, she sent something like I might be back tomorrow.”

  Colt frowned.

  It did sound like her, the ever-active, ever-upbeat woman he’d met. Yet another thing he might have ended up loving about her; spontaneity.

  However, how the fuck could she afford a three months break in the most expensive city in the United States like that? Shared or not, that place probably cost a chunk of cash and while her MINI wasn’t all that flashy, it seemed brand new, which meant monthly payments.

  Didn’t it? He didn’t know. It was entirely possible that she might have more disposable cash than he’d anticipated and that fact disturbed him, because it meant he needed to cast a much larger net that the one he’d previously planned on; he’d reasoned that she either was at home, or at her parents in San Francisco. Now, he also had to consider the rest of the universe.

  “Will you let me know when she gives you a location?” he tried, knowing it was a long shot.

  Emma sighed and shook her head.

  “Probably not,” she admitted. “If she doesn’t want you to know, I won’t break her confidence. But I’ll give you a shout when she’s back.”

  Colt was surprised at having the woman in his corner, before he recalled she probably hadn’t been told about the fact that he’d fucked around last night.

  Although fucking around was hardly accurate, considering that Alice pointblank refused to be his.

  Not that it would make a difference, to women; they had a tendency for ganging up against anything with a dick, given half a chance.

  Why wasn’t he into men? He wished a thick cock could turn him on. Come on, he even liked Alice’s fingers in his ass, and he spent a lot of time doing his hair – he’d be a great gay guy, but for some reason, the idea of kissing Brett made him want to gag and punch someone. Too bad; men were so much simpler.

  “Thanks, I’ll owe you one. Seriously, anything.”

  Emma cracked a smile, which proposed her straight from exquisite to the realm of cute as hell. Bloody hell, that came as a surprise. She should smile more often.

  “Might take you up on that. Laxative in your brother’s coffee would work.”

  Oh, yeah – she worked for Kane.

  Colt’s smile was much more genuine this time.

  “You’re on.”

  Because while Kane had had the very best intentions for being a betraying ass, Colt still owed him one.

  “Colt…” Emma asked, a certain edge to her voice “Did she talk to you?”

  He shook his head; whatever she’d come to say she hadn’t gotten the chance.

  •

  By the time she realized she was acting like a betrayed girlfriend, Alice had already sent the dramatic text and there was no taking it back.

  Dammit. Letting him see how his action affected her was so not part of the plan.

  She also felt a little stupid. She'd said she preferred a casual thing and he'd respected her wishes.

  Then, Alice recalled Colt’s sweet whispered words. Someday, you’ll trust me again. Then, you’ll be mine.

  And just like that, she was ready to castrate him again.

  Why did he have to go and make her love him like this? It was unfair.

  There it was, the admission she hadn't ever acknowledged, her main issue against Colt, the reason why she should have gone to Kellan or Kane when she'd considered taking a Colburn for a sex toy.

  But she hadn't ever considered it, it had been Colt or lying through her teeth throughout the whole article, because she wasn't interested in anyone else.

  Alice had been the kind of girl who only had sex with boyfriends, at first, but by twenty-three, on her fourth failed relationship, she realized most guys just wanted easy sex; and that's what steady girlfriends – or even wives – were for.

  So, she let loose, and fucked her brains out; it had been a ball, but she grew bored of it within a year.

  Then, she’d met Giovanni, a swoon-worthy stallion who was completely open about his wants and needs – she’d loved the simplicity, the hot sex, and the sincerity.

  But Van left to take care of a family emergency in Italy last year. He’d come back in November, but by then, she’d already met Colt.

  She’d found excuses, but there was no denying why she’d stalled everytime Van had suggested meeting up.

  The tanned, thick, delicious flesh didn’t appeal to her nearly as much as the cold, dismissive guy she thought of when ramming dildos inside her. She’d pretended it had been the Colburns as a whole, but her imagination always went back to one in particular.

  And then, she’d had him, and for a little while, she forgot everything she knew.

  God, she needed to get her head examined, it was in worse shape than her womb. Why had she done that to herself?

  Before she knew what she was doing, two cases were in the trunk of her dusty car, and she was driving up towards her only sanctuary.

  Yeah, her family was a major pain in her ass, and they would be unbelievably
annoying about the problem she was going to throw their way, but Lucy had been right.

  Alice had to start thinking about the baby she carried.

  Peanut needed support, unconditional love, and so did she.

  •

  Every stalker needed a Rhett in his corner. Within hours, Colt had a location; Alice was at her parents, which was a blessing and a hindrance.

  A blessing because she was relatively close by – still in the country, on the same coast – but a pain, because he couldn’t very well turn up at the doorstep, there.

  So, he did the next best thing.

  Chapter 6:

  Alice had expected the entire Vaughan Clan to join the We Hate Colt party, but apparently, none of them had RSVPed.

  None.

  Instead, they’d all decided to join the We Are Disappointed in Alice convention.

  Well, she’d seen that one coming, but she hadn’t quite expected it to be the only tune her family was singing.

  So Alice did one thing she’d never, ever done around the Vaughan dinner table. She opened her mouth and revealed everything.

  Not quite everything, she didn’t get into the naughty nitty-gritty in visual details, but she explained the nature of her relationship with Colt, and finished the tale by shamefully admitting that he’d gone for a ridiculously pretty young Hollywood wannabe less than ten days after promising her the world.

  “So, let me get that straight. You’ve held him at arm’s length from day one. Then, you assumed he cheated because some girl was hanging all over him in a public setting, and you completely shut him down. Consequently, after days of complete silence from you, he moved on. Yeah, what an asshole.”

  It would have been bad coming from her sister, who couldn’t stand her, but from her brother, it was like a harsh slap on the face.

  Because put that way, it made her actions seem ridiculous.