Page 24 of The Playmaker (The Legends of Fire #1)

My Off-Limits Bad Boy Billionaire

Nina is my best friend's sister—off-limits and dangerous.

One night with her, and my world turned upside down.

As the billionaire owner of the Striders, I’ve skated through life and women, leaving a trail of headlines.

But Nina, a rising star writer with a killer smile and a sharper pen, is different.

She has seen me with too many puck bunnies and doesn’t trust my intentions.

At her brother’s wedding, the tension ignites.

Stolen glances turn into heated touches, and I’m ready to fight off her toxic ex.

She’s under my skin like no one before, and I see the fire in her eyes, too.

My bad boy days are over—Nina makes me crave something real .

She doesn’t believe I can change, but I’ll show her with every beat of my heart.

Loving her could cost me everything, especially my best friend.

But walking away? Not a chance.

Nina must be mine, and I’ll risk it all to prove it.

But once he finds out about his daughter, my heart may be put in the penalty box.

Chapter 1: Nina

" Whoaaa! " The bartender exclaims from behind the counter as I down the third shot of scotch. "Looks like someone had a bad day."

I squeeze my eyes shut as the sickening warmth of the alcohol slides down my throat to my stomach, waiting for the soothing aftereffects of the scotch to kick in.

I desperately need it to kick in.

"The worst kind," I mutter as I slide the shot back to him. "Can I get something stronger?"

He looks at me with raised eyebrows. "Sweetheart, you should probably take it easy."

Nothing irritates me more than a man being patronizing when I demand something. Does he think I can't handle my alcohol? Maybe I'm being too sensitive, but even if he is genuinely concerned, I don’t care. All I want is to drink away my sorrows.

"You shouldn't deny a customer," I manage to say over the loudspeakers playing the latest dance hits.

Maybe I should dance. I let out a dry chuckle at the thought. Dancing to forget my sorrows and celebrate my freedom sounds like a damn good idea .

Freedom – the word hits me like a freight train.

It's the first time I’ve thought about my breakup with Travis this way.

It feels damn good to think about it as freedom.

I'm truly free from that man and that relationship that should have ended years ago.

Why do I always ignore the signs until it's too late?

"Here's your fourth drink of the night," the bartender slides a shot to me. I give him an alluring smile which quickly turns to a scowl when I realize that he passed me a shot of water.

"Are you kidding me right now?" Irritation laces my voice, but it only seems to amuse him. "Don't be so fucking boring."

"I bet you can't even stand on your feet right now." A voice that sounds like warm liquor and spice huskily mocks me from behind.

A thousand sensations course through my body before I turn and meet the familiar, arrogant face. The expensive Tom Ford cologne fills my nostrils, his presence closing the space between us, making my heart skip a beat for no valid reason.

I know that annoyingly sexy voice more than I'd prefer.

I turn to face him, and just as I guess, a permanent mocking scowl rests on his gorgeous face.

To be honest, Oliver Colton absolutely does not deserve the god-sculpted, perfectly chiseled face he has.

How unfortunate that God took his time to make that sexy jawline and those perfectly crafted lips, only to bestow them upon someone like him.

Life is so damn unfair.

"Oliver Colton. So glad to see you," I sneer, my voice dripping with as much disdain as I can muster. I hate that my words didn't land well, slurring the last ones like a drunk – and I swear I'm not even drunk yet.

"Nina Flender," Oliver returns dryly. "Your enthusiasm is overwhelming as usual."

I grab the shot absentmindedly, down it, and realize again that it's water. I shoot the bartender a look, but he's too busy attending to other customers. Oliver scoffs beside me .

"Do you know how unsafe it is for you to be drinking like this?"

I roll my eyes. It's hard to believe that Oliver genuinely cares about my drinking.

He's probably more pissed that he came across me tonight, and now he can't have a good night without my annoying presence.

"You don't have to pretend like you care, you know that right?

Please, go and do whatever you came here to do. "

"So you can watch me throughout the night and then write another article based on misrepresented facts?" he asks with a sarcastic edge in his tone.

"I do my research. None of my facts are misrepresented," I retort.

He takes his drink and strides away, leaving me to watch as he makes his way to a table at the far end of the room.

A stunning redhead sits with him, looking utterly enamored by his presence.

They share a kiss, and he whispers something in her ear that sends her into fits of laughter, as if he's just shared the funniest joke in the world.

A small hiss escapes me as I avert my gaze.

The poor woman has no idea what she's in for.

Well, maybe she does. After all, Oliver's track record of relationships and partners isn't exactly a secret, yet it doesn't deter women from wanting to be with him.

I'd understand the allure of his sexy charm if he weren't such a cold, grumpy asshole.

I genuinely wonder how any of his partners tolerate his nonchalant demeanor. I can't stand that kind of attitude.

"But your ex-boyfriend wasn't even nonchalant, and yet he put you through so much," a nasty part of my mind mocks me as I begin mentally berating Oliver.

I try to push back with the notion that two wrongs don't make a right, but it feels pathetic.

At least Oliver Colton never pretends to be a genuinely faithful partner.

Well… except for that one time with my friend, Alison.

My thoughts drift back to my ex, Travis.

It's hard to believe I once envisioned a future with him.

I loved everything about him—his sense of security and the feeling of safety he provided, until the harsh reality hit that he was a manipulative asshole.

He strung me along with promises of a life together while constantly stepping out on our relationship and telling me lies.

My hand instinctively goes to my stomach, and I feel a sharp pang in my heart. I can't bear dwelling on this, as it feels like a piece of me dies every time.

My poor baby.

Maybe in another life. Perhaps, just perhaps, in another life with a better woman than I am and a more deserving partner than Travis.

Tears sting my eyes, and I muster everything to prevent them from spilling over. I'm surrounded by people seeking refuge from their sorrows, wanting to drown the night away and forget their problems. I wipe away a tear that escapes my eye.

"Don't cry, Nina. Don't cry about it," I murmur to myself. "You're better off. You would have been miserable with Travis." I try to console myself amidst the ache that lingers within.

Just then, Murder On The Dancefloor by Sophie Ellis-Bextor starts playing—unironically my favorite song to dance to, and an instant mood lifter. The club erupts in animated cheers as the beats fill the air. It seems like my cue to abandon self-pity and embrace the dancefloor.

The flashing lights create an electric atmosphere, casting shadows that dance in tandem with the crowd's movements.

I navigate through the sea of people, making my way to the center of the dancefloor.

The bass resonates in my chest, syncing with the beats of my heart.

It's as if the song was tailor-made for this moment, for this escape.

I spin and twirl, my body moving in harmony with the melody like my life depended on this moment. The vibrant colors of the disco lights paint the surroundings in a kaleidoscope of hues, enhancing the ethereal experience.

Amidst the euphoria, a stranger appears by my side. His movements seamlessly align with mine, and without hesitation, we become dance partners. His energy is infectious, and I find myself mirroring his steps.

But then, an unexpected intrusion disrupts the harmony. I feel an unwelcome sensation against my ass, and a cold shiver runs down my spine.

Uhm… what the fuck?

The joyous atmosphere wavers as the stranger's movements become uncomfortably intimate.

I attempt to subtly create distance, hoping he'll stop his approach.

However, he seems undeterred, persisting in his inappropriate actions.

Anger simmers beneath the surface of my initial enjoyment, tarnishing the carefree moment.

His voice, a disturbing whisper in my ear, sends shivers down my spine as his unwelcome arm encircles my waist. The stench of alcohol emanates from him, adding an unpleasant layer to the intrusion. My instinct screams at me to break free, but his grip tightens.

“I’ve been watching you from across the room,” he whispers, his breath hot on my ear as he encircles my waist with an arm. “You’re so hot, and I really like your vibe. What do you say we go to my place?”

Disgust rises within me like a tidal wave. "Not interested." I take a step back, attempting to peel his arm away.

He smirks, undeterred, his hold intensifying. "Aw, come on. I know you want to." He edges closer, the harassing feeling of his erection against my dress sends waves of revulsion through me. "I see the way you were dancing with me excitedly."

I feel sick to my stomach. "You're harassing me. I said I am not interested. Why do you insist on being a nasty pervert?”

The stranger’s surprise morphs into anger, and his hand raises menacingly. Panic takes hold as I brace for an impending escalation. In a swift, unexpected motion, someone emerges from the shadows, pulling me away from the harasser. My eyes meet Oliver's angry stare.

“What were you going to do, huh?” Oliver interrogates, twisting the stranger’s hand mercilessly. “Tell me, you fucking asshole.”

The stranger, now writhing in pain, musters a feeble response.

“I can't hear you; you piece of shit.” Oliver's anger is palpable as he drags him away from the dance floor.

“I am so sorry. Fuck.” The stranger cries out, spittle running out of his mouth as he talks.

“You’re sorry to who and for what?” He looks menacing in this moment. His grey depths lit with anger, his voice grating with threats, his hands tightly clenched on the stranger.

I have never seen him this way. He looks like someone completely different and if I didn’t know better, I’d think that he genuinely cares.

“I am sorry to the lady and for being a fucking asshole.”

Oliver glances at me, an unspoken question in his eyes. “Do you want to call the police? I don’t think this pervert should be running free.”

I shake my head, still processing the whirlwind of events. “Just let him go, please.”

With one final twist, Oliver releases his grip, allowing the culprit to scramble away in pain.

Oliver turns towards me, his eyes scanning my face for any signs of distress. "Are you okay?"

I nod. "Thanks for stepping in. I didn't know what to do."

“Maybe you should go home now and stop hanging around where you can easily get hurt. You’re a grown up. Fucking act like it.” He spits out, his eyes cold and unreadable .

Bulbs of anger sparks in my head. “Excuse me? You don’t get to tell me how to live my life just because you helped me out of an uncomfortable situation. Stay out of my business.”

I turn to walk away from him, but Oliver pulls me to him to avoid colliding with an incoming attendant.

At that moment, something shifted between us.

Maybe it’s the fact that his arms are wrapped around me or the fact that I feel strangely safe in his embrace or the fact that our gaze linger on each other, our thoughts completely hidden from each other.

A strange sensation courses through me and I feel goosebumps rise on my arms as we stare at each other. There is an electric charge in the atmosphere, and we are both unable to pull away, transfixed in that moment as the first flicker of attraction crackles.

My gaze falls to his lips. I wonder, just wonder what it’s like to be kissed by him. Imagine those lips on mine and on my breasts. That thought makes my panties turn wet immediately and my nipples become hard and sensitive beneath my dress.

Oh my God, Nina. What in the hell are you thinking? I chide myself as color rushes to my cheeks. I wonder if my lewd thoughts are apparent on my face.

“You should look at where you are going.” Oliver’s voice comes out huskily like he’s been having lewd thoughts as well. His arms are still wrapped tightly around me.

"Yes, I probably should." The words escape me breathlessly, a fragile admission hanging in the charged atmosphere.

Nervous under the weight of unexpected attraction, I subconsciously slip my tongue over my lips.

Oliver's gaze follows the subtle motion, his eyes tracing the path with an intensity that sends shivers down my spine.

His scrutiny lingers on my lips, caught between succumbing to the desire or resisting the magnetic pull.

The air thickens, suffocating us in a tension that vibrates like a ticking bomb, each heartbeat echoing the anticipation.

For a suspended moment, he steps back, releasing me from the cocoon of his proximity.

The sudden void leaves me yearning for the warmth that vanished, a gust of chills come over my body in its wake.

My body craves the closeness, and my senses tingle with the lingering touch.

I want this man. Holy fuck. I need Oliver Colton to fuck me senseless and make me forget all of my sorrows. The raw admission reverberates in my mind, a secret desire laid bare.

Tonight, he is not just Oliver Colton, a man I strongly detest, but a man my body desperately wants.