Chapter 01

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Miles Dekker had another agenda tonight as his Rolls-Royce pulled to a stop in front of his luxury night club, Menzgold. One of the plush nighterys in Manhattan.

The paparazzi were at it again. The cameras went on and off on him the second his pristine Italian shoes met the lesser ground.

They were probably after another celebrity who had found their way into his night club. The media fuss did not help his agenda tonight but they were good for business so by all means, they should go ahead.

Growing up a Dekker means having the backbone to put on a good show and that was exactly what he did. Miles flashed his fans the signature smile, his panty-dropping antidote when it comes to winning over the masses.

Especially the ladies. And it was working tonight as well when the girls began to flash him a piece of skin.

Miles saw her before she even cut through the crowd and made her way over to him— with that measured on-camera confidence he hated so much. Well not so bad when paired with those red lipstick and Louboutin heels.

She said nothing as she stood by him and worked those model poses for a few shots with him. Just what he needed. To be seen making headways with no other woman than Chanel Preston.

Once they had had their fill of the flashlights, Miles led her into the nightclub through the VIP entrance.

“Business or pleasure?” Miles asked as they made their way upstairs to the executive lodge.

Paparazzi and Chanel in the same space meant some poor bastard was about to get crucified in the media.

“It's a Friday, Dekker, I'm not a caveman.”

Ever the feminist. Miles scoffed at her response.

But he had to ask. The former model turned Channel 3 journalist was a force to be reckoned with. Chanel doesn't know friend or foe when it comes to her job. She will publish the shit out of your life to fill her trophies of shame cabinet as Miles calls her award stand.

Besides, another media scandal was the last thing the Dekkers needed.

“What are you drinking?” Miles asked as they brushed past bodies of partygoers at the loft.

“Whatever you're buying.”

Miles stopped mid-strid and turned to her. Don't do it. The words were like the old bells of Valencia going off in his head but it's been a dreadful couple of days since he got back from Spain. He could use the distraction— a very hot wild distraction.

Miles switched on his award-winning grin. “What do you say to a glass of wine in my suite?” He offered her one strong arm adorned in Armani.

“How could I ever say no to that smile.” Her grin was even wider than his as she clung onto his arm.

Lucky him. Miles led her into his private elevator. His security guard was with them but Miles relieved him of his services for the night.

“Mr Brown called, Sir. He said it was urgent.” The guard informed Miles before he could step into the elevator.

“Thanks Sam. I will call him back.” Miles stepped closer and said to Sam's hearing alone, “I'm retiring for the night. I'm unavailable if anyone asks.” Anyone being their code for a string of his lady friends who can't take no for an answer.

“Yes, Sir,” Was Samuel's response.

“Goodnight Sam.” Miles hurried after his lady friend into the elevator.

“How was your trip?” He asked, a few seconds after the elevator doors closed behind them.

She chuckled. “Do you really want to talk about my trip?” She stepped into his space.

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