Her Dirty Games

DIRTY SEXY PLAYER

One

“Nice rock,” I said, admiring the diamond ring Donovan placed on the tabletop. I picked it up and examined the stone in the dimly lit lounge of the The Grand Havana Room, the member’s-only cigar lounge we often frequented when we were together. The diamond was a big one, in a platinum setting with at least four carats between the large center jewel and the scattering of smaller diamonds surrounding it. A serious engagement ring. I wouldn’t expect anything less from one of the world’s most successful young billionaires.

I just had no idea Donovan was even dating anyone.

Of course, we weren’t as close as we used to be. Physically, anyway. He’d been managing the Tokyo office with Cade since we’d expanded our advertising firm into that market. He rarely made it stateside, and it had been nearly a year since I’d last seen Donovan in person. When he’d shown up tonight unexpectedly asking Nate and me to meet him at the club, we’d guessed he had serious news but that it was about the business.

An engagement ring was a whole new level of serious. No wonder he wanted to do this in person.

“Who’s the lucky girl?” I asked, trying not to sound bothered that this was the first I was hearing about her. A glance at Nate said it was the first he was hearing about her too.

“You’re asking the wrong question,” Donovan said, and bit off the end of his cigar. “The question is who’s the lucky guy?”

I raised a brow, confused. But not surprised. Donovan was known to speak in riddles. I’d figure out what he was trying to tell me when he was ready to spill. Might as well play along in the meantime.

“Okay.” I pinched the ring between two fingers and lifted it toward the nearest light source so I could see the full effect of its sparkle. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

He lit the end of his cigar and puffed a couple of times before taking it out and answering. “You.”

“Oh, Donovan. You shouldn’t have.” I clutched my hand to my chest for dramatic effect. “I don’t know that we’ve ever said it, but I love you too. Still, I don’t think I’m ready for this.” I handed the ring back to him with a shake of my head.

Nate hid his smirk by taking a large swig of his imported beer.

“Very funny.” Donovan carefully placed the ring back in its box. “I’m not proposing to you, Weston. I’m proposing for you.”

“You are, are you?” I chuckled at his attempt at a joke. Inside my jacket pocket my phone buzzed with a text. I pulled it out and quickly skimmed the message.

I need to see you.

Normally I’d be all up for a booty call, but my night belonged to the guys. I deleted the message without reading who it was from, silenced my phone, and put it back in my pocket.

I gave my attention back to Donovan, continuing to play along with his hoax. “Just who exactly are you proposing to for me?”

He puffed heavily on his cigar before removing it from his mouth to speak. “Her name is Elizabeth Dyson. She’s the sole inheritor of the Dyson empire. She’s twenty-five, classy though spirited, well-bred—definitely a suitable bride. Your union is going to take our business to the next level. Once you marry her, Reach, Inc. will be the biggest advertising company in Europe.”

All humor drained from my face. He was serious. Donovan never joked about business. But marriage? “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Not even a little bit.”