Path To Retaliation (Fighter's Den, #2)

Prologue - Cameron

PART I

PARDON

-

I hate suits.

Let's just get that straight if you and I are going to become fast friends. Not only do I hate suits, I despise them. Wearing them, ironing them, dry-cleaning them, everything about them, really.

I know, I know. The entire female population must be sobbing at this admission as they slowly pull their panties back up their legs in disappointment. Well don't worry, ladies.

I do love going commando.

And I fucking wish I could go commando underneath these crisp pants but my boss would likely shack my head off. And I never disobey my boss, who instilled more fright in me than when I hear, "I'm on birth control. I want to feel you bare."

Yeah. Not happening.

My genes would surely make a stunning team of little Cameron's but having kids has always been unappealing to me for reasons I can't admit to at the moment. We're not friends yet, you know.

With a begrudging sigh, I make quick work of fastening the knot of my tie and pulling it taut. Perfect. I may hate suits but I love ties. They're an avid representation of how good I am with my hands. Plus, I enjoy a little kink here and there and ties are definitely the pussy-beckoner to all things kinky. I don't know what's the appeal to girls but as soon as they see a man in a tie they're envisioning said tie wrapped around their wrists and tied to a headboard. No complaints there.

With a final look at my reflection, I take in the charcoal grey suit that molds to my tall frame and wide build, stretching across my broad shoulders and fitting right down to the narrow V of my hips. I work my ass off to maintain my body and strength so I can admit with no shame that my physique belongs to an underwear campaign. Plus, I'm packed like a donkey. Life is good.

I run a hand through my hair, the kind of brown that immediately looks lighter when the sun hits it but a generally dark chocolate shade. A smattering of hair dusts the sharp edges of my jaw, similar to the colour of my hair but perhaps a little lighter. The shade of my suit makes my already grey eyes pop that much more and the thickness of my lashes frames my eyes in a way that gives them an almost almond shape. I flick my tragus piercing, making sure the hoop is in place. I also have my left lobe pierced and I've found the face metal really turns women on. A small smirk graces my full lips. I'd totally fuck myself.

"You ready, babe?" A breathless voice comes from behind me.

I turn around and see my date of the night. She's a curvy red-head with tits that are big enough to look like an ass. They probably cost more than my suit. Her tiny waist contradicts her busty chest and long legs peek out from the slit in her black dress. She's got a stunning face and I find myself wishing she didn't splurge on fake tits because she'd look like a damn vision. A real one.

"Yup." I say, popping the 'p' at the end. "You look great, Kacey."

"Thanks." She bats her eyes as she approaches me confidently, hips swaying and heels clacking. She stops when she's a mere inch away and wraps her small hand around my tie. "We should make use of this later." She whispers huskily.

See? Total pussy magnet.

I give her a smile I don't feel and place my hand on the small of her back, guiding us out of the hotel room the company checked us into. I don't have the heart to tell her the only reason I chose her as my date is because my boss thought our looks were complimenting for publicity reasons. I may look like a douchebag but I'm a nice guy. Honest.