LUCI (The Naughty Ones Book 2)

  LUCI

  A Naughty Ones Book

  Plus: Bonus Books

  KRISTINA WEAVER

  Copyright © 2016

  All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters appearing in this work are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to events, businesses, companies, institutions, and real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  BONUS BOOKS

  Chapter One

  Unrequited Love

  Luci

  You know the worst part of unrequited love? The word unrequited. I’ve always hated that word so much. It’s a big, fancy, pretentious word that pretty much means “you’re shit outta luck, lady.” And every time it pops into my head I have the urge to bare my teeth and shake my fist at the world.

  It’s been a good five months since Callie and Jack’s wedding, which means it’s been a while since I made that fateful declaration to Alan and decided to pursue the man of my dreams.

  You want to know what I have accomplished in all this time?

  Nothing. Not a bloody damn thing, unless you count making a complete arse of myself and crying into my pillow at night.

  I watched him at the wedding, practically throwing myself at him. I was so drunk after he confronted me that poor Alan had to rescue me when I started stumbling Freddie’s way, slurring my intentions.

  The night ended with me crying into the bridal bouquet while Alan carried me to his waiting limo, where I proceeded to toss my cookies and bawl in an all-round pathetic manner.

  After I woke with a hangover that threatened to level me, I showed up at his offices, picnic basket in hand, with the grand plan of wooing him with my culinary skills.

  I ended up on the sidewalk after his secretary let him know I was there and security showed up minutes later to escort me out.

  Humiliating? Yes. And you’d think I’d have taken a freaking hint there and just moved on, right?

  Nope. Not this thick-skulled idiot.

  Instead I went home to Indie, shared my picnic food, and regrouped while paging through The Wedding Album.

  That’s when I came up with the doozy of all doozies, something I blame on Indie and the copious amounts of wine we consumed, along with fried chicken and blue cheese potato salad.

  I somehow got it into my fool head that if I could just remind him, rekindle that spark of passion that raged out of control and had us ripping at each other’s clothes, that he’d somehow want me again.

  So I did what any sultry vixen would do.

  “You have a slamming hot body and great boobs, Luce. I say you use those babies to open with.”

  I’m basically crying around a chicken drumstick and guzzling wine when Indie’s drunken slur reaches my ears, drowning out the inner wails that have been deafening me since the security chief of Freddie’s building escorted me out with a look of pity and told me to have some pride.

  “So? He’s seen my boobs at least ten times and he obviously does not think they’re all that great, Indie,” I mutter around a mouthful of buttered green beans.

  I remember each and every time he looked at my boobs, touched my boobs, and, well…suffice it to say that I have it all catalogued and on replay in my mind in minute detail.

  “Luci, let’s be real here. You love the guy and he’s…he’s just…clueless. You have two choices here, sweet pea. You can let this go and try to move on, find another lid to fit the pot that is your crazy.”

  “Or?” I ask, knowing that in all the world there will never be another lid.

  Daddy once confided in me that when he first saw Mummy, his heart stopped and started beating again, completely out of tempo for him, but totally in sync with hers.

  I’ve been brought up on those stories since I was old enough to converse, and I never once questioned that love would find me. After all, if my father, a hardnosed English peer who ran a multibillion pound corporation and was ruthless enough to fire a person without pause could take one look at Mummy and want love so much he changed in an instant…

  If he could have love and happiness all these years with my scatty mum, I could have it, too. Couldn’t I?

  I jump from the sofa with a yell of glee and totter to my bedroom with a game plan in mind.

  “Hey! Where ya going?”

  “To do what I need to, of course,” I say, Indie following as I strip off today’s sundress and flats in favor of the naughty lingerie I’ve been saving for a special occasion.

  That brings a smile to Indie’s face and I grin back as I change into a black set of scrappy lace bra and panties, garter belt, and silky black stockings with heels.

  The mirror likes me, a lot, and I ruffle and fluff out my fall of ash-blond hair as Indie whistles and grins like a loon.

  “I take it you’re going for it then, little Miss Loveshine?”

  “Hell yeah I am so going for it. The only things to regret in life are the things you never did.” I laugh, my clouded mind weaving visions of happiness, laughter, family, babies…

  Whatever I want, really, as giddy hope and joy work through me.

  I’ve e-mailed Freddie a million times. Sent him letters explaining Alan’s relationship to me, describing him as merely a close friend. Basically I’ve hounded him with the knowledge that besides that one foolish kiss we shared, we’re not even close to being an item because I still love him.

  Why he won’t listen or believe me?

  I grab a coat and shrug it on, praying not to melt before I reach his place, and allow Indie to walk me to the door with a few words of advice and a pep talk that would get me through a war.

  “Remember, Luce. Anything worthwhile is worth fighting for. You go out there and you get your man and do all that love shit.”

  If I wasn’t so stoned, drunk, and bloody stupid I may have questioned the advice since it’s a well-known fact that India McGee is a pessimist who has never believed in love.

  I don’t think about a single logical thing at this moment. I jump up and down like a bloody cheerleader and squeal as I bunny-hop my way to the elevator and start planning my future.

  The cab ride over is short, even though we live on opposite sides of San Fran. By the time I reach his door it’s well past eight at night and darkening outside.

  Do I stop to consider that using a key I snuck off his chain and had copied is not a good idea? Nope.

  Do I stop to consider that I just had my butt thrown out of his building the minute he heard I was there to see him? Nope.

  I let myself in, check around the cold, almost empty space, and trot to his bedroom. I miss him. I’m excited about seeing him without others here to curb the conversation, and without him being able to ignore me and walk away.

  All I think as I remove my coat and hang it behind the bathroom door before toddling over to the bed in my heels is that once he gets a load
of me, he’ll be on me so fast.

  I’m busy arranging myself in a sexy pose, legs spread and draped, back arched to show off my boobs in the lacy demi bra, when I hear the door open and shut.

  I’m loose and attempting sultry sexiness when I see the door open and smile as flirtatiously as humanly possible.

  I keep smiling as he waltzes in. I even smile into the darkness when he stubs his toe and curses softly.

  But I stop smiling when the light comes on just as I hear a feminine giggle. They both spot me in my lewdly embarrassing pose. I take in their state of undress and Freddie’s lipstick-smudged lips.

  I’m bloody frozen and mortified for all of ten long, agonizing seconds when I hear the woman let out a squeak, a shocked giggle, and give me a sympathetic look.

  After that, well, things cannot get any less awkward for me.

  “Luci? Jesus Christ! What the hell…?” he sputters.

  Jumping to my feet in a flash, because yes, I am beyond shocked, I just manage not to cry when I finally manage to get my frozen limbs to move.

  I’m hurting as they both gape at me.

  I can’t answer him or say anything as the reality of it all crashes through me. Here I am, spread out on his bed, in his apartment that I broke into, making a complete and utter twat of myself.

  How tragically pathetic am I!

  That anger is the only thing that spurs me on and stops the tears from falling as I fly out of the room.

  I make it all the way out of his apartment, all the way down the hall and into the elevator by the time two things happen. One, I look up to see him running after me like a madman, no doubt ready and eager to blast me to hell and back. And two…I realize I didn’t grab my coat.

  Callie’s walk of shame flits through my head just as I raise a hand and flip Freddie the bird as the doors are closing.

  When the doors open, the lobby of the building is not empty. I get to be the asshole who runs out of the place when I hear booming footfalls coming from the stairwell.

  My exit as I start running to escape even more humiliation is so farcical, I feel myself blushing as I shove a man away from an open cab door and throw myself in.

  “Drive. Oh God, just please drive,” I beg, looking out the window to see the man who will forever be in my nightmares barreling towards us.

  The cabbie obeys and takes me home.

  “Luci? You okay, sweet pea?”

  I snap out of my thoughts just as Indie comes sailing into my line of vision. I look up to see her eyeing me with the same sympathy I’ve been getting for the last month.

  “I’m fine, Indie,” I mutter, not needing another one of her fucked-up pep talks again.

  I’ve ignored them all as I’ve tried to move on. First it was all of my friends trying to cheer me up and make me go all man-hater to get through my humiliation. Then it was Mum and Dad trying to get me to join them at some hippie retreat.

  After crushing my phone when Freddie attempted to call, I got a visit from Jack and Woody. It ended with me slamming the door in their faces, locking myself in my room, and staring at the ceiling for thirteen hours while Percy stood by my door and begged me to come out.

  “You don’t look fine,” I hear as I roll out another sheet of filo pastry and start the process of putting together a baklava that is on the menu for dessert for an upscale dinner party I’m in charge of.

  “Then don’t look, Indie. Now, if that’s all…”

  I ignore her and the worried gazes of my other friends, even Callie who’s about to pop and emotionally unstable at the moment.

  I have to. Otherwise I’ll lose what little is left of me.

  Chapter Two

  From Bad to Worse

  Luci

  It is two in the morning when I receive the frantic call. Jack gives us the green light to get to the hospital as soon as possible. At the news that Callie's about to pop, I feel a tiny spark of excitement light my soulless heart and I dive out of bed with the traces of the first smile I’ve had in months.

  We’re all yelling and dressing and hopping out of the elevator three minutes later, running for the door of our building and laughing like loons.

  “Oh my God, she’s gonna rip her vagina getting that kid out, and I am so taking pictures,” Indie yells back at us, waving her camera.

  Percy is a little less bloodthirsty and just starts doing a hop of excitement for the addition to the family.

  I’m a little more reserved than I usually would be, but I do find myself smiling so hard it hurts my cheeks. We run onto the sidewalk, planning our commute to the hospital, when I run into a wall and bounce back with a squeak.

  The smile slips when a set of strong arms grip me and stop me from falling back and onto my butt. I look up to see a pair of bright blue eyes.

  The breath I’d been about to take stalls in my chest and all I can do as Freddie looks down at me is stare in fascination at his handsome face. My eyes are literally unable to move away from his brilliant features, and it’s with shame that I admit to having the irresistible urge to burrow into him and soak up all the warmth he’s giving off.

  “Alright, alright! Move along, asshole,” Indie gripes just as I feel my damn eyes start tearing.

  Her voice and the arm she grabs me with to pull me away is a saving grace I will forever be grateful for as Woody steps out of the limo and holds the door open for us.

  “Thanks,” I whisper as we slide in, my heart returning to its usual slow pace as the others join us and I studiously try to avoid eye contact with the oaf staring at me from the seat across from us.

  “No problem. Just keep your walls up, Luce,” she whispers back, squeezing my hand in a totally non-Indie way.

  I nod. It’s all I can really do as I stare out of the window and try not to look back at Freddie. I don’t want to see whatever pity is lurking in his eyes.

  The ride to the hospital is a silent one, and by the time we all pile out of the limo and rush up to the floor where Jack told us to go, I’ve collected myself enough to actually breathe through the lump in my throat.

  I feel calm and settled as we reach the waiting room and walk in to see Gruffy, Grampa Levin, and Jack’s parents all sitting quietly and holding cups of cold coffee.

  “Well it’s about damn time you got here. She’s about to pop that kid any second from the sounds of it, and I do not wanna be the only person around when Jack passes out and needs a replacement. I already saw my own birthing experience, and Callie’s a damn biter,” Gruffy snarls by way of greeting, making me giggle a little as Indie rolls her eyes and Percy just snorts.

  “Hey, guys.”

  I look over and grin as I walk over to Dot, my smile slipping when I see her lack of joy and take in her unkempt appearance. I glance over at Percy, who shrugs.

  “Hey, Dotty girl. You okay?” I ask, shamed by my lack of attention lately.

  “I’m fine, Luci. Mind your own business, would ya?”

  “I’m just asking, Dot, Jesus. What’s crawled up your ass lately?”

  “Oh really? You’ve finally noticed me and now all of a sudden I’m supposed to give a shit that you care?”

  “Yes!” I say unabashedly, my eyes narrowing. “I love you and I may not have been here lately, but I do care and I don’t give a damn how crappy you speak to me, unlike Percy and Indie who just get mad. I want to know what the hell is up with you and why you’re being a total ass instead of being happy that your best friend’s about to ruin her vagina and spit out a ten-pound demon.”

  My words have her lips twitching slightly, and she shakes her head and looks away.

  “Callie moved out.”

  “To be expected, Dotty, since she’s got a rock on her finger,” I mutter.

  “Yeah, but it’s hard being all alone when I was so used to having her around and then…”

  “Then what, Dot?” I push when she stops.

  “Nothing. I’m just not used to it is all. Now tell me about your stuff since you seem to have snappe
d out of your misery coma, Luci. What’s up with you and….you know who? And why is he glaring at you when just a month ago he’d do anything but look your way?” she whispers.

  My answer is stopped short when I see Woody approach out of the corner of my eye. I feel myself smile when he comes over with two flavored lattes and sandwiches and cookies.

  “Eat, ladies. It’s bound to be a long night and I don’t want you all going hungry and drinking the shit from the cafeteria.”

  “Is this…”

  “Yup. Perk of having a ton of money. I got them to open the store and throw a few things together.” He grins, saluting us both before going to hand out some more of his loot.

  “That man is just…”

  “I hear you, Dotty. I hear and see all that hunky goodness.” I say dreamily, watching Woody’s muscled ass flex beneath worn jeans that look butter soft and painted to his skin.

  Hmmm, yum.

  “So…”

  That’s Dot’s trusty opener and she says no more, doesn’t really need to as I start gnawing on my ham and rye while taking little sips of the chocolate strawberry-flavored coffee.

  I don’t want to sit in a hospital waiting room listening to a now screeching, homicidal Callie, while whispering my love woes as Freddie and the others try to listen in.

  “I’ll dish it all when we’re alone,” I mutter, chomping on my bread while the eyes I do not want to look into drill holes into me from across the room.

  “Honey, I already got the whole scoop from Percy and Indie. I just want to know how you are,” she whispers in her sing-song voice.

  “Okay. I think,” I say softly, playing with the rim of the cup. “I don’t know. I mean I’ve always said that if you have to do something, do it well, but it was not what I was expecting. In hindsight, words are so much easier than the reality.”

  Dot snorts indelicately at that and runs a hand through her matted bed hair.

  “I’m not talking about your cute butt streaking out of his building, you tackling an innocent bystander to get inside a cab, or the fact that you’re now best friends with the cabbie and his wife, Luci. I’m talking about you and your feelings. Indie and Percy may think that this has pushed you into the “I hate you, I don’t love you anymore” phase, but I know you better. You’re not as hard as you want others to think, and I definitely know that you’re more steadfast in your love. How else could you still adore the rest of us clowns with half the stuff we do to each other on the regular? Remember when Indie put black coloring in your shampoo and your poor mom thought you were a Satanist?” she chortles, making me giggle at the memory.