Playing With Fire (Billionaire Playboys #2) Read Online Tory Baker

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Billionaire Playboys Series by Tory Baker

Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 37200 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 186(@200wpm)___ 149(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)

A wife. Happily ever after. That was never in the cards for me, not with a past like mine.

Everything changed when Millie entered my life. The no labels I demanded on our heated encounters became meaningless when she threatened to walk away. There’s only one thing a man can do when he realizes the woman he loves is going to leave forever.
I have to fix not only myself, but our relationship. I’m not willing to let go of Millie, even if promising her forever means I’m playing with fire.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

"If you want to heal your heart's wounds, start healing your thoughts." -Alexandra Vasiliu



“Two black coffees, please, and a date with you tonight.” Ezra walks in for the third day in a row this week. I have one AirPod in my ear, in which my best friend, Nessa, is talking about her plans with Parker this weekend and if I’m working or can take a day off work.

“Let me call you back. Some tall, handsome man in a suit is asking for coffee and a date.” I wink at Ezra. He’s in one of his expensive three-piece suits, hair slicked back in a way that tells me Four Brothers has him in meeting after meeting today. The two-day beard growth still shows off his jawline, darker than his hair color of ash brown with streaks of blond here and there. His gray eyes, though… Only three percent of the population has that beautiful color; I know because after meeting him, the first thing I did when there was a lull in customers was look it up, and they suck me into his vortex each and every time.

“We were together last night. Are you missing me already?” I ask after I hear the clicking in my ear telling me that Nessa hung up. Imagine our luck.—Parker and Ezra are best friends, and Nessa and I are best friends. Nothing could have prepared me for the coincidence when I received the call from my girl to tell me that when she took my place at her charity auction, who the winning bidder was. Getting sick never led to such great results before, because Nessa and Parker are conjoined at the hip, completely in love. As for Ezra and me, he’s not there, but that’s not to say I’m not.

“Is there a rule saying I can’t have you in my bed every night of the week?” Ezra grumbles when I have to be up and at Books and Brews earlier than sunrise. I always suggest going home the night before or him staying in bed on the rare occurrences we make it back to my place. Ezra is a creature of habit; I get it, completely. The coffee shop I’ve been working at since college is that way for me. My small studio apartment, on the other hand, is also me—colorful, full of dark moody colors, outfitted with as many thrifted items I could find instead of polluting the earth with brand-new things when others are often getting rid of great stuff because it isn’t on trend. What works for us may not work for others. I’m at Books and Brews starting at seven o’clock in the morning and not closing until three in the afternoon. The only snafu is the mornings—Ezra is not one to get up early if he doesn’t have to.

“I didn’t say that. Let me grab your coffees.” The coffee shop is currently quiet for the time being; I know I’ve got about twenty more minutes before we’ll be balls to the walls, chaos ensuing. If my barista no-call, no-shows today, I am going to be pissed. The owners of Books and Brews are now living on a white sandy beach in Florida. Their son comes in once or twice a month to look over the books on the computer, makes sure the shop isn’t burnt to the ground, and that’s about it. He doesn’t want this place. I do, though, which makes it imperative that I keep it clean as a whistle, rolling in the black while also maintaining things running smoothly. So, I won’t run to Bonnie, Chad, or even their son, Scott. I do what needs to be done on my own.

“What time were you thinking?” Ezra likes a pour-over, which takes a bit longer than pulling the lever in the pre-brewed coffee. This way makes it smoother yet stronger. I slide the two cups of coffee toward him after putting the lids on the to-go cups. If he were staying, I’d have given him the thrifted mugs we use. They’re a dime a dozen, a reason for us to recycle, and when one breaks, we don’t have to worry about the cost to replace it. I just find another mug when I’m venturing out to thrift stores on a Sunday, the only day we’re officially closed.

“My last meeting is at six. I can pick you up around seven.” What I thought was a slight wince clearly isn’t. It’s noticeable in the look he gives me. The last thing I want to do is close up the shop, clean, do inventory, drop off a deposit at the bank, then finally head home just to get dolled up. It’s a Thursday evening, too, which means every place is going to have some kind of a wait even if it’s not for reservations.