Page 9 of Cocky Bastard

“By the way, what’s your real name?” I asked as we stepped back onto the pavement outside the familiar façade of The Library. Since it was small and discreet, we’d be as safe as we could be from prying eyes here.

“Er, Kanan,” Kane said quietly. “Kanan Pendleberry.”

That definitely wasn’t what I’d been expecting. “Hmm, bit of a change to Jude Kane.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t my choice.” It was impossible to miss the note of bitterness in his voice and it sent a sudden pang of sadness echoing through my chest. It was why I’d fought so hard to escape that part of the industry and carve out my own place in the world. Because at least that way I got to choose my own damn name.

“That’s the industry for you.” I smiled softly at him then grabbed his hand. I’d held his hand before but never like this. Mostly because we’d never done anything like this. “All right, let’s go, Pendleberry.”

He laughed as I dragged him inside, the sound rich and warm and not something I’d heard from him before. It sounded real, not like the fake, practised laugh I’d heard him use in interviews or in the ridiculous documentary they’d filmed on Underground Dreaming.

Which, yes, I had watched, but no, I would never admit to. Not even under pain of death.

We headed for the reception desk, which was still staffed even at this late hour, and the pretty young man behind it did his very best to suppress his surprised recognition when I leant on the counter and smiled at him, my eyes quickly roaming across his uniform. “Hi, I know it’s late but I’m wondering if you can help me, Jacob,” I said, pouring all my charm into the words and watching as Jacob melted slightly.

“Y-Yes, of course, sir. Whatever you need. What can I do?”

“Thank you, I knew I could count on you,” I said, pulling out the killer smile that always got me what I wanted. “My friend and I have been at a party but the food was shit, the drinks were extortionate, and we’re looking to make the evening better. Is it at all possible that we could get a few things sent up to the room?”

“O-Of course, we do a late-night room service menu and I’m happy to get you whatever you’d like.”

“Aren’t you a sweetheart?” I glanced at Kane, who’d deliberately moved away from me and was lurking out of sight. I shook my head fondly because it wasn’t like there was anyone else around. “I’d love a good bottle of champagne, Taittinger if possible, with two glasses and an ice bucket. Some fruit—bite sized or small, please, maybe some strawberries, cherries, things like that, and maybe some chocolate to dip them in too. Then some patisserie—macaroons, little cakes, anything like that. And if you can find a few flowers, I’d be forever grateful. Do you think you can do that? Please?”

“Yes, sir,” Jacob said, his voice hitching slightly.

“Good boy.” I smiled at him and pulled my wallet out of the back pocket of my jeans, handing him a fifty-pound note. “And Jacob, you won’t tell anyone who it’s for or that we were here, will you?”

“No, sir.”

“Perfect. Thank you very much for your help. Oh, and it’s room 513.” Because I’d been a decadent sod and forked out for a suite since I was going to be here filming for a few days and wanted something plush to come back to.

“Of course, sir. I’ll bring everything up as soon as it’s ready.”

“Thank you, Jacob. You really are a star.” I winked at him and then strolled over to Kane, tucking my wallet back into my jeans and pulling out my keycard. “Want to go upstairs?” I asked quietly as I reached him.

“What were you—”

“Just sorting a few things out,” I said, sliding my hand into his. “Come on, kitten. Upstairs. I’ve got something I think you’ll like, and I promise it’s not just my dick.”

Kane snorted but didn’t resist me leading him towards the lift.

If Kanan Pendleberry wanted romance, then he was going to get fucking romance.

CHAPTER FOUR

Kane

“Holy shit, you booked a suite?”I asked, unable to hold back my shock and surprise as Austin led me into his huge open-plan room at The Library with gorgeously large windows hung with heavy curtains that looked out onto the dark street. The room was simultaneously modern and classic, spacious and cosy—juxtapositions that shouldn’t have been possible but somehow were. I’d stayed in their suites before but never this one, and I thought it was my favourite so far.

Or maybe that was just the company.

“Yeah boy,” Austin said as he shut the door behind us, his other hand still in mine. “I wanted to treat myself to something fancy.”

“You definitely did that.”

“Right? The bathroom’s like a whole motherfucking spa! The bath has a fucking hot tub setting and the shower… God, I could film so much content in that shower.”

I rolled my eyes at him, trying to ignore the way my stomach wriggled strangely. I didn’t want Austin fucking anyone else inthat shower. I wanted him to fuck me. “Seriously?” I asked. “That’s the first thing you think of?”

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