LESSON LEARNEDTHE 6,000-WORD PREQUEL TO ALL OR NOTHING
JASMINE GARNER
M E R C E D E S
“Are you ready for tonight?”
“What’s tonight?” I asked the man I was dancing on.
He chuckled, grabbing my ass and I smacked him
away.
“No touching, baby,” I whispered in his ear as I
continued gyrating on his lap.
He licked his lips. “Oh, you little tease.”
He was piss drunk, and it was the third time I’d told
him to lay off. If he touched me again, I was going to
cut the dance short. I knew he was a big tipper, so I was
willing to put up with a slightly higher level of bullshit.
But not much.
I was an exotic dancer at one of the most exclusive
clubs in L.A. I’ve danced on celebrities, politicians, rock
stars, and foreign dignitaries. It was a lucrative job. The
men usually tipped well, and if you were one of the
girls who were willing to break a few of the club’s
rules, they’d tip even better. But I wasn’t one of those
girls.
I didn’t do any type of happy ending, I didn’t sneak
home with these guys, and I didn’t go to private parties.
I worked my ass off at the club, making every guest feel
like the sexiest man—or woman—alive, and then I
wiped my hands clean of them once I was off the clock.
I made great money, and doing a little extra would
mean even better money, but I enjoyed the simplicity
of a drama-free life—well, drama-free from men,
that is.
I didn’t need to become a tabloid sensation by
getting caught with a married senator. I didn’t need to
have people taking pictures of me on the street after
spotting me with an A-list actor. I didn’t need the FBI
at my door because they were convinced the NSA
director spilled national secrets to me on his private
yacht—and yes, this actually happened to one of the
girls.
No, I danced because I loved it. I danced because it
paid well and allowed me to escape into a fantasy
world for a few hours.
And then one day, once I was finally ready to get
my head on straight and figure out my life, I was going
to quit. And once I did, I was going to settle down and
find love with no nasty baggage attached to me from
getting too close to corrupt men.
Besides the fun of being someone else for a few
hours, my only goal for becoming a dancer was to be
able to afford to take care of myself and to buy myself
nice things. I could do that, and then some—without
having to do much more than a few twirls around the
pole. So, when the man stuck his finger under my
thong, I stood.
“Out. Dance is over.”
The man was a regular at the club, but it was my
first time with him. He usually liked to do his private
dances with another girl, Nadia. She was busy tonight,
and I guess he got tired of waiting for her, so he chose
me. Nadia and I actually looked quite alike, which
made me a good second option. Or so he thought.
Yes, we had the same petite frame, the same long,
black hair, and the same creamy caramel skin, but our
work ethic was obviously vastly different. It was clear
this man was used to getting his way in the back room
with her, but no amount of money was worth that to
me. I swung open the door, nodding to the bouncer on
the other side.
“Get him out of here.”
Still thinking this was the most hilarious thing ever,
he burst out laughing. “I love this! Okay, okay, we can
play a little cat and mouse.”
I rolled my eyes, heading back out to the main floor.
There would be no games. He obviously missed the
memo. That bouncer was going to escort him straight
to the exit.
Nadia eyed me as I emerged from the private
rooms, storming over.
“Were you with Bill?”
“Drunk guy that you’re usually with? For a second.”
“He’s mine.”
I nodded. No arguments here. “You can have him.”
“You better not have messed this up for me,
Mercedes,” she said in an unusually icy tone.
“I don’t think I did.” Bill now knew that the next
time he wanted to play grab ass in the back room, I
wasn’t the one.
After my shift, I went to change into my street
clothes, only to find Nadia pouring bleach on my two
hundred dollar designer shirt.
“Nadia, what the hell?”
She pointed a finger in my face. “You stay away
from Bill. He’s my highest paying customer.”
“I already told you that I don’t want him, you
psycho!” I said, inspecting my ruined shirt. Girls were
known to be possessive of their regulars. Fights would
occasionally even break out. But I wasn’t a fighter, and
Nadia didn’t seem to understand that I had no interest
in Bill.
She charged at me, and a couple of the other girls
held her back.
“Hurry up and get out of here,” one of the girls said
as they pulled Nadia out of the dressing room. I
changed into my shorts and swiped Nadia’s shirt from
her open locker. It was only fair after she’d ruined my
shirt, and I had no spare to wear home.
I studied the faded Ramones vintage tee. It was
actually kind of cute, but I’d never wear it in public.
Wasn’t my style. Her loss.
After packing up, I headed out to my car. Besides
my encounter with Bill, it was a pretty laid back night,
and I’d made a killing in tips. And now, it was time to
wash it all away and get back to real life.
“You good, Mercedes?” the bouncer outside of the
club asked.
“Yeah, thanks.”
It wasn’t uncommon for men to wait for women
after closing hours. We always had security nearby,
watching us get into our cars to step in if needed.
I loved my job, I loved being able to be another
person for a few hours. I loved creating fantasy worlds
and ensnaring others into my universe. It was nice to
get away from the real world on a regular basis. But I
didn’t like to live in the illusion.
My life wasn’t perfect, but it was the only one I had
and I worked my ass off trying to make it better. So
every morning when I clocked out after a few hours of
pushing my problems to the back of my mind, I
emerged refreshed and ready to take on my day. And I
knew that one day, I wasn’t going to feel the need to
take breaks from my reality at all.
One day, I was going to work through all of my
issues and finally have a life that I loved, a life that I
didn’t feel the need to flee from. And once I did, I’d
finally be in a headspace to work towards the things I
really wanted: working towards a respectable career,
finding the love of my life, and truly being the happy
person I always portrayed myself to be.
My happily ever after would come—when I was in
the proper headspace to receive it—but until then, I
had no problem shaking my ass for hundred dollar
bills.
Just as I grabbed my car keys out of my purse, a
hand clasped over my mouth. I screamed and kicked,
but my small frame was no match for the giant that had
hold of me.
It happened so quickly, security didn’t even notice.
Before I had a chance to realize what was happening, I
was jammed into the back seat of a car.
The car sped away and a man in all black sat in the
back with me. I reached for the door handle, but the
child safety lock was on and I couldn’t get out. The
windows were locked as well. The man hovered over
me, snarling. I kicked him in the stomach. All of the air
escaped his lungs, but it wasn’t painful enough to stop
him from grabbing both of my wrists and binding
them behind me with a zip tie.
Collapsing his weight on top of me, he bound my
ankles before gagging me and putting a blindfold
over me.
“You move, you die,” his gritty voice whispered in
my ear, although it was barely audible over the sound
of my racing heart.
The car ran over a giant bump and my body fell to
the floor. I remained down there, my body trembling
as I tried to listen to the man over my loud heartbeat,
trying to get any indication of what he was going to do
to me next.
“Please,” I cried, the sound muffled from my gag.
But he didn’t need to understand my words to know
exactly what I was saying.
I didn’t recognize the man. He had obviously been
watching me in the club, but hadn’t gotten a private
dance or anything. I wondered how long he watched
me, fantasizing about finally having me to himself.
I’d dropped my purse and phone in the parking lot,
had no idea where I was going, and there was no one in
my life that was going to check on me the next day to
realize I was missing. I was completely under the
control of this man.
Tears coated my blindfold, snot running out of my
nose as I sobbed. This was exactly why I didn’t do
anything extra with men. I only interacted with them
in the club because once you left those doors, your
safety was completely unregulated.
The man brushed against my leg and I scampered
away, my shoulders pinched in pain at my awkward
positioning on the floor. Moments later, the car
screeched to a halt, and I was yanked up and out of the
car, my ankles cut free so I could walk, the night air a
smack to the face.
After walking for a few moments, we stopped. I
heard the sound of an elevator and got pushed into the
car. The ride up was filled with the sound of me whim‐
pering, praying to God that someone else would enter
the car to save me. But I knew there would be no one
else. There was no way we’d be in an elevator with me
tied up if there was a chance of someone seeing us.
Wherever we were, we were alone.
Moments later, the man shoved me forward and we
walked down a long hallway.
I heard the click of a door, with it slamming behind
me once inside. I jerked my head back to try to head
butt the man, but my head only reached his chest. Spin‐
ning around, I faced him and jerked my knee upwards,
hitting him in the crotch.
With him temporarily stunned, I ran back towards
the door, but being blindfolded and tied up, I couldn’t
get it open before the man swung me over his shoul‐
ders and carried me back to wherever we were going.
This guy could take a lot of hits.
I screamed, wiggled violently and cried out, but it
was no use. Seconds later, I was tossed from his arms,
and landed with a hard thud on a soft surface. A
mattress?
Another door nearby slammed shut, and I jumped
so hard I almost peed my pants. The room was silent
other than my whimpers, but I knew I wasn’t alone.
And moments later, the sound of shuffling confirmed
that.
I crawled away from the noise, until my back hit a
wall. I felt extra cushion around me—pillows. I was
definitely on a bed, and completely out of control.
The man in the room moaned and I felt his body
heat smothering me—he was close. I flinched away
from the feeling of his breath on me.
He chuckled. “I love a good screamer,” he whis‐
pered, his breath acidic and smelling of alcohol.
Grabbing my wrists, he jerked them away from me.
I could no longer move them. I was tied to the bed. The
scream that came from me emerged from the depths of
my throat, from deep in my chest. Even through the
gag, it was loud enough to echo in the room.
I was defenseless.
No one was going to save me.
And I knew what was coming next.
The bed shifted with the weight of the man getting
on it, and I screamed at the top of my lungs until my
throat gave out. Pressing his knee between my legs, he
forced them apart as I kneed and kicked to no avail.
Finally, he removed the gag.
“Please don’t do this,” I cried, snot, tears and spit
coating my face. “You don’t have to do this.”
The man paused. “What’s...what’s wrong with your
voice?”
He snatched the blindfold off my eyes before
jumping off the bed to flick on a light switch. When my
vision adjusted and our eyes met, they widened in
horror.
It was Bill.
“Holy shit!” he screamed, looking just as surprised
as me. “Tony!”
I shook my head as Tony, the man who’d snatched
me, entered the bedroom we were in. They both stared
me down with bugged-out eyes.
“Look, I’m sorry I got you kicked out of the club,
okay? Let’s talk about this,” I said, although we both
knew we were past the point of talking.
Tony rushed over to me and released my arms. I
scampered against the wall, backing away.
“You got me kicked out?” Bill asked.
“Yes, after I stopped your dance short.”
His eyes widened, as if he were recognizing me for
the first time.
“Son of a bitch!” he said, punching a wall. After a
few deep breaths, he combed his fingers through his
hair before approaching me slowly, his hands up in
surrender as if he didn’t just fucking kidnap me.
“Look, this is all a big mistake,” he said, his voice
even more slurred than it was at the club.
“G-great, then you can let me go now. I promise I
won’t say anything.”
“No, I can’t let you go. Tony, get Al on the phone.”
“What?” I asked, pinning myself harder against the
wall to shrink away from his cautious approach.
“Just...just give me a minute.”
“Please,” I cried.
He sighed, looking at me with wary eyes. “Look,
this was a mistake. Candace and I have a month‐
ly...arrangement,” he said, referring to Nadia by her
stage name. “It was her that was supposed to be taken,
not you. What the fuck did you do, Tony? How could
this happen?” He asked once Tony re-entered the
room.
“She had on the Ramones shirt. And she looks just
like her!”
His eyes narrowed as he looked me up and down.
“Yeah, they do look alike. Is that your shirt?”
“I borrowed it from Na—Candace.”
“And it was you who gave me the dance earlier?”
“Yes.”
He groaned pinching the bridge of his nose. “You
look just like her. I didn’t even realize you weren’t her
at the club. I promise you, this was a mistake.”
“You’ve said that already. So just let me go.”
Tony shook his head. “You shouldn't have done all
of that coke.”
“Shut the fuck up, Tony!” Bill hissed at the quip. He
turned to me. “Look, my lawyer is on the way. You’re
not leaving until we get some paperwork signed. The
last thing I need is for you to go to the cops. Or the
press.”
“I won’t if you let me go now. Besides, you can’t
make me sign anything under duress. That would
never hold up in court.”
He snorted. “Sweetie, my lawyers can make anything
hold up in court. You don’t want to try to win that
battle. But relax, this was just a game Candace and I
play.”
“What are you, some kind of twisted sugar daddy?”
He paused. “Something like that. You were never in
any real danger, and as soon as we get this NDA signed,
you’ll be free to go. You’re okay.”
He mumbled a string of curse words as he stumbled
out of the room with Tony. I heard the lock click, indi‐
cating that I was trapped inside.
This was what the girls did with men off the clock?
Faking terror for some man’s fucked up kidnap
fantasy? That was too much, too far. I would never
subject myself to this every month for an extra piece of
change. Not because it was super degrading, but
because it was simply...fucked up.
I paced around the room, my nerves still rattled
even though I fully believed I was going to be okay. But
what if I wasn’t? What if this had been real? I was
completely unprotected and would’ve been helpless to
do anything. This was a wakeup call for me.
The men I encountered at the club were wealthy
and powerful. If someone wanted me to disappear, if
someone wanted to do something to me, they could.
And there would be no repercussions. Maybe it was
time for a lifestyle change.
No, I couldn't. Nothing else I did would ever pay
me as much as what I was making now, and I loved my
lifestyle. One day, I’d be ready to give it all up—I didn’t
want to be the old dancer at the club, after all—but I
had a lot more money to make before then. I just
needed to be smarter about it.
His lawyer arrived at the crack of dawn with a thick
stack of papers for me to sign. I signed them all. I
wasn’t planning on going to the cops; I truly believed it
was an innocent mistake. Nadia and I could almost
pass for twins, and I had on what she’d told Bill she
would be wearing. I now knew why Nadia was so
angry when she thought I was trying to seduce Bill. I
was sure he paid her handsomely for this little charade.
After signing, he apologized some more and handed
me a Louis Vuitton duffel bag.
“What’s this?” I asked as Tony handed me my phone
and purse that I’d dropped in the parking lot. I didn’t
even see him pick them up.
“Fifty thousand dollars.”
I snorted. “I don't need your money. I signed your
papers, now let me go.”
“The fifty thousand is listed in the agreement. You
have to take it. Take it, and you can leave.”
I grabbed the bag and left the room. Exiting the
main door, I saw that we were in a hotel. Tony and I
got into a service elevator. His hands were in his pock‐
ets, the air thick around us as we rode down in silence.
We headed to the bottom level, to an underground staff
parking garage.
Bill must’ve paid the staff handsomely to look the
other way, that’s why no one had seen us. I shook my
head. The things people would put up with for money.
I slipped back into the car we’d arrived in, sighing as I
rubbed my wrists, which were sore from the tight
restraints.
This is what I was to men: a transaction. I was sure
Nadia got no satisfaction from being used as a pawn,
but she was willing to sacrifice her body and mental
health for it. All the while, we were viewed as less than
nothing.
We were things to ogle, to play with, to control.
Even the men who “fell in love” with us only fell in love
with the idea of perfection and sex that we flashed in
front of them.
I didn’t mind playing that game for a few hours
while at the club—I enjoyed the break from reality just
as much as they did—but these men treated women
like this every day and every minute of their lives. And
it was disgusting.
Since becoming a dancer, I’d dated two men. Both
relationships ended badly. And now, I got a behind-
the-scenes look at what it really took to make the big
bucks, and it just cemented in my head that as long as I
was a dancer, I would be nothing to men.
More than anything else, I wanted love. I wanted
the family I didn’t have growing up. But as long as I
kept dancing, I was going to attract the same caliber of
men. Maybe it was time to give it up; maybe it was
time to focus on what I really wanted out of life.
I had more than enough money saved up to quit.
Maybe this was my wakeup call to figure out my life.
Once we got back to my car, Tony turned to me.
“Sorry again about this,” he mumbled. I flashed a
nasty glare in his face before storming out of the car
and into mine.
Once the kidnap car sped away and I was alone, I
exhaled several deep breaths.
You’re okay. Nothing happened.
I sat there for a long time, breathing and whispering
positive thoughts. I sat there until I decided that this
lifestyle was becoming too much for me.
I danced because I loved hiding away in a fantasy
world just as much as the men. I was working on
bettering my life, but I enjoyed getting a break from it
as well. But the fantasy was now a nightmare, and it
was time to focus on me and what I wanted. It was
time to heal the wounds of my past, make a respectable
name for myself, and find the man of my dreams.
After eating breakfast at a dingy diner, I headed to
the closest women's shelter, met the director and got a
special tour of the facility. After being certain they used
their donations for good, I wrote them a check for 50k.
There was no way I was going to take Bill’s hush
money, but hopefully it would make a difference in a
few women’s lives.
I headed to my penthouse apartment and face planted
in bed, still sticky and smelling of a hard night’s work.
The night was a warning to me. It was God’s way of
telling me that I’d gotten too comfortable and needed a
change. It was time to face my demons and try to build
a better life for myself.
W A R R E N
“I have to pay how much? And you said every month?”
“Every month for the next five years,” the judge
stated.
I burst into laughter, turning to my now ex-wife
and giving her a round of applause in the middle of the
courtroom. “Congratulations, Court. Game well
played.”
“Mr. Bradshaw, I’m going to have to ask you to
settle down,” the judge said.
“I’m paying her monthly what most people don’t
even make in a year. Excuse me for being a little
shocked, Your Honor.”
“Well, judging by your financial records, you won’t
miss the funds.”
That wasn’t the point. The point was that Courtney
had played me. I wanted a wife, and thought she could
handle me. She told me she could keep up with my
busy lifestyle, that she wanted to go on adventures and
explore with me. She lied.
All she wanted was financial security—and she’d
gotten it tenfold. Between the two of us, she’d won this
little game called marriage. I wasn't mad about the
money, I was upset I’d failed and she was coming out of
this the victor.
I met her out in the parking lot before she headed
into her car.
“I gave you everything. What more could you have
wanted?”
She turned to me with a soft smile, the one that
always left a bit to the imagination and always
managed to pull me into her.
“Your heart.”
I snorted. “I loved you, Court. I always showered
you with gifts and affection. You said you wanted secu‐
rity and that’s exactly what I gave you. I built a beau‐
tiful house for you, we traveled the world together, and
I know you were satisfied in the bedroom. I gave you all
I had to offer. I was a great fucking husband to you.”
She nodded, her lips tight. “You loved being my
husband. You were great at providing.”
“So why wasn’t I good enough?” I asked, trying not
to sound like a little girl.
She said she wanted to be mine, she said she could
keep up with me. As a result, I took a chance on our
love and committed myself to making us work. But she
gave up on me.
“Your heart isn’t ready yet. Maybe one day it will be.
And maybe one day we’ll be able to try again.”
She cupped my cheek, planting a light kiss on my
lips before getting in her car and driving away. I
scoffed. What was she talking about? I was the perfect
husband, I gave her more than she ever could’ve
dreamed of, and I still couldn't crack her. There had to
be something else.
“Your woman suck the life out of you, too?”
I turned to the man who’d just exited the court‐
house. “Yeah, man. I just couldn’t figure this one out.”
“Well, if you ever figure any of them out, you let me
know. I need a drink after today.”
I turned to the man. He had a hard scowl on his
face. “Hey, you busy now?”
“Nope.”
“Let’s get a drink. I’m Warren, by the way.”
“Lee. And yes, let’s.”
I drank with my new buddy and we bitched about
the pitfalls of navigating women. Shooting the shit
with him got me in such a good mood, I covered every‐
one’s tabs in the bar—and the total was still less than
what I now had to pay Courtney every month. Damn
shame.
After leaving, I checked my watch.
“Shit.”
I hopped in my car and sped away toward a steak‐
house a few miles away. Once there, I spotted my
brother already at a table waiting for me.
“Sorry I’m late, Spencer,” I said, sitting down and
flagging a random waiter over to take my drink order.
“It’s fine,” he said, looking away from the book he
was reading on his phone to meet my eyes. “How’d it
go today?”
I groaned, rolling my eyes as I recounted the day. “It
was insane. Not only is she now filthy rich, but she had
the nerve to blame the divorce on me. I gave that
woman everything.”
He nodded, taking a long sip of iced tea. I narrowed
my eyes at his sudden silence.
“What is it?” I said. I could always tell when my
brother was biting his tongue.
“I told you that you weren’t ready to be married.
You never should’ve done it.”
I scoffed as the waiter placed my drink in front of
me. “Man, fuck you. What do you know about
marriage? You can’t even find a woman who wants to
be in a long-term relationship with you. Work on your‐
self before you come at me. How about that?”
“I choose not to be in a relationship. Because I
know I don’t have the time. There’s a difference.”
“Whatever. I’m not taking marriage advice from a
man who's never been in a steady relationship.”
He shrugged. “And I’m not taking relationship
advice from a man who is divorced and thinks he had
nothing to do with it.”
“Why do we do these weekly dinners again?”
“Because we’re stuck with each other.”
I chuckled, taking a long drink of my gin and tonic.
Spencer and I met every Thursday for dinner. Our
lives were so busy and different, but we didn’t want to
lose touch. We were all the family we had left, so we
carved out this time for each other every week, no
matter what.
“It’s just driving me nuts, you know? I have to know
what I did wrong. And she even said she’d be willing to
take me back one day, but I need that missing piece.
The next time I get her back, I’m not going to lose.”
“Lose?”
“At this marriage thing. I need the missing piece to
make sure I kick ass the next time around.”
“If you reunite with her, I guarantee you'll have the
same result, no matter what. Take this loss, and use
whatever it is you're trying to learn from it into your
next relationship.”
A deep chuckle reverberated throughout my chest.
“I don’t lose, brother. This is merely a setback. I am
God’s gift to women, a perfectly wrapped Christmas
present from Santa under a beautifully lit tree.
Including a shiny bow,” I said, swiping my fingers
across my sculpted eyebrows before smoothing my
hands across just the right amount of stubble on
my jaw.
“I guess to Courtney, you were just a lump of coal,”
he said, trying not to smile at his own joke, the little
asshole.
I was rich, charming, and handsome. I treated
women like queens. “Any woman would be lucky to
have me. And once I determine why Courtney hasn’t
figured that out, I’m going to win her back. I refuse to
have a failed marriage. I’m going to ride off into the
sunset with her, and prove you wrong. I may be down
right now, but in the end, I’ll win. I always win.”
I sat back in my seat. Spencer was just jealous. He
would never have what I had. He had always been
smarter than me, did better in school, was taller and
more muscular than me, and a part of me always
thought that our Dad loved him more than me. But not
women. I could always get all the love I needed from
them.
Spencer was a lot of things, but I was more fun,
more romantic, and more adored by the people I came
into contact with—except for my ex-wife. I didn’t need
to take advice from him. And as a woman from the bar
locked eyes with me, I knew that in the end, I was
going to be proven right.
I ordered her a drink, flashing her my thousand-
watt smile, watching her enjoy every sip of my little
gift. There was something insanely satisfying about
bringing a smile to a woman’s face. And whenever I
did, I made it my mission to make each smile bigger
than the last. It was an addiction. She handed me her
number before she left. Spencer rolled his eyes.
“What? I’m single now. Until I can get back in
Court’s good graces, I have needs.”
“Yeah, okay.”
After dinner, I checked the time on my phone. “The
night’s still young. What do you say we head over to
one of the bars down the street and play a bit of pool?”
“Sure.”
I smiled. As always, I was going to kick his ass. I
looked at the woman’s phone number in my hand. The
day may have started out poorly, but I was ending up
how I always did—winning.
And once I got Courtney back, I would regain my
throne at the top of the world. It felt good being me.
S P E N C E R
Once Warren put his mind to something, he became
obsessed. But this time, he was obsessing about the
wrong thing.
He wanted love so badly with Courtney, but his
heart was never in that relationship. Not only was he
not ready to be married when he tied the knot, but
Courtney didn’t actually want to be married. Like so
many other women, she was with him for his money.
She humored his ego long enough for their five-year
anniversary, at which point she was entitled to
alimony. I was sure Warren wasn’t expecting her to get
as much as she did, but his copious amounts of
spending trying to impress her for years raised her
standard of living, and thus her payout.
Courtney was going to live her life in luxury, all the
while working on seducing her next wealthy target,
and there was nothing Warren could do to stop her.
But he didn’t see it. The thought of a woman not being
head over heels infatuated with him was incomprehen‐
sible to him.
His obsession made him competitive, and he wasn’t
going to stop until he won her back, or until he found
another woman to obsess over.
Me? I didn’t have time. I worked almost one
hundred hours a week running the multi-billion dollar
company that our father left behind for us while
Warren paraded our fortune around, throwing money
at any woman that blinked his way. And he was attrac‐
tive, so there were plenty.
I didn’t blame him for not wanting to take over the
company like he was supposed to; it was a lot of work.
And I certainly didn’t blame him for having a good
time. I couldn’t wait until the day I got the company on
autopilot so that I could branch out and enjoy life as
well. Until that day, parties, women, and fun just
weren’t options for me.
“Hi, there.”
I turned around to the woman who’d walked up to
me after I took my shot and missed.
“Hi,” I said to her.
She slid her tongue across her lips, standing so close
to me, her breasts pressed against my chest. I took a
step away.
“You look really good out here. I’ve always wanted
to learn how to play pool. Can you teach me a few
shots?”
“Well, I’m not the one to ask. He can show you. He’s
amazing. Beats me every time,” I said, pointing to
Warren.
Warren walked up to us after watching our
exchange. She leaned into him, much like she’d just
done to me. She wasn’t interested in me, it seemed. She
was interested in anyone.
“Sweetie, grab a few drinks at the bar on my tab,
whatever you want. Then come back here so we can
show you the ropes.”
She sauntered away and Warren turned to me with
a scowl.
“Bro, what the hell?”
“What?” I asked.
“She was flirting with you. Why did you send her
my way? I mean, she’s hot and I’m not complaining, but
I don’t need and extra help. And you have to take what‐
ever action you can get.”
“She said she wanted to learn how to play pool, and
you’re by far the superior player.”
He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Dude,
she doesn’t give a fuck about the game. She just wanted
to bend over the table for you and have you rub up on
her a bit. Jesus…” he said, chuckling at my naïveté.
Okay, maybe it wasn’t just time as the culprit to me
not being in a relationship. I was generally bad with the
dating scene. If she wanted to get to know me, why
didn’t she just say that? Why did we need to play
games? Why waste her time learning a skill she wasn’t
interested in when we could’ve just talked? Did people
just not talk to each other anymore?
“Okay, noted. Let me try again.”
I walked up to her as she came back to us. Warren
faded away, setting his eyes on a woman at the bar as
he decided whether or not to approach.
I smiled at the woman. “I’m not the best at pool, but
I know a trick shot or two. Want me to show you?”
She nodded, wrapping her hands around mine that
were resting on the pool stick. She slowly trailed her
fingers down mine before gripping the stick itself and
doing her jiggly walk over to the pool table.
She puffed out her chest before bending over and
positioning the stick. I could tell she wasn’t aiming for
anything in particular.
With her butt in my face, she peeked over her
shoulder to lock eyes with me.
“Should I stand like this?”
I fought not to roll my eyes. She knew her form was
incorrect. No one who ever saw billiards being played
saw someone bend over like that. She was being ridicu‐
lous. She was trying to be cute, but feigning ignorance
on common sense matters wasn’t attractive to me.
Maybe she was better suited to Warren, who liked
his damsels in distress.
I pointed to her stick. “Maybe point towards the
ball you’re trying to hit and straighten out your back,” I
said, my eyes avoiding her rounded ass she had
perched it in my face.
“Like...this?”
I groaned to myself as she poked her butt closer to
me, clearly not paying attention to the balls on the
table. Warren laughed behind me as he watched the
exchange.
I wanted a woman. If I were honest, I wanted a
woman pretty badly. Since taking over the company,
I’d been alone, worked to the bone with no one to
come home to. But the woman I wanted to come
home to had to be witty and intelligent, and not hide
her smarts for the sake of trying to appear to
need me.
The companion I craved needed to be comfortable
in her own skin, and not need to pile on garish clothing
and too much makeup in order to leave the house. Not
that I had a problem with makeup or anything, a
woman would wear and do with her body whatever
she pleased. But I could tell that without her fake lashes
and bright red lips, this woman wouldn't feel as confi‐
dent in herself and her beauty.
No, I wanted a straightforward, laid back partner.
And this woman’s inclination to so easily switch
between flirting with me and my brother led me to
believe she was a handful of drama.
Until I happened to come across that perfect
woman, I think I was simply out of luck.
In impeccable timing, my cell phone rang. As
always, it was the office informing me of an emergency
with our overseas division that couldn't wait until
morning. After disconnecting the call, I locked eyes
with Warren.
In a silent communication, he understood that I had
to head back to the office. It was the perfect opportu‐
nity for him to further acquaint himself with the
woman at our table, and the perfect opportunity for
me to slip away from her.
After telling her goodbye, I pulled my brother in for
a hug.
“Until next week, bro,” Warren said.
“Yep. See you later. I know you’re excited and newly
single, but be safe out here.”
“Always.”
I slipped away from the two, glancing back to them
one last time as I approached the bar’s exit. Warren’s
hands were already on her and she was giggling away. I
shook my head.
I was heading to the office at nine at night during
the middle of the week. Who was I fooling? I had zero
time for romantic interests. The thought was laugh‐
able. No woman would find my workload acceptable,
and I would never want to subject a woman to being in
a half-relationship.
I was alone because I had to be. And that wouldn’t
change any time soon.
A L L O R N O T H I N G - C H A P T E R 1
Thank you for reading Lesson Learned, the prequel to
All or Nothing. Mercedes meets these brothers at a bad
time in her life, and she quickly falls for them. They
become entwined in a messy triangle and as the days
pass, she realizes that the man she has isn’t good for
her, and the man she craves doesn’t want her.
Read the first chapter below!
MERCEDES
I used to pray.
Everyone wastes about a third of their lives sleep‐
ing, but not me. That’s a lot of time. No, the thing I’ve
wasted the most amount of time on is praying. Head to
the sky, eyes closed, hands raised. Day in and day out.
Night after night. But not anymore.
And while I certainly still believed in the Big Man
above, I'd concluded that he simply didn't like me
enough to respond to my prayers. Not a single one.
So I stopped.
And that's why when the Reverend asked everyone
to bow their heads in prayer, I simply stared straight
ahead, eyes resting on my big brother's serene face,
thankful that my heavily tinted, oversized sunglasses
masked the gray tint of his lifeless skin to my eyes.
After the service, the family was asked to come to
the casket one more time to say a final goodbye. I
stayed in the back of the church, my eyes glancing at
the exit.
He was my brother, but we weren’t family. I hadn’t
had family in a long time.
As they closed his casket for the final time, I slipped
out of the church.
I didn’t know why I drove hours to attend his
funeral, and I definitely wasn’t sure why I drove to the
cemetery where he was being buried.
I parked my car at the entrance of the property,
waiting patiently until the trove of guests came rolling
through in a line. I stayed far behind, not even getting
out of my car as I watched my mother sprinkle dirt
over his grave.
I hadn’t seen my mother in years. I had no need to
after what she’d done to me. And the years had not
been good to her. She looked like shit. And she
deserved it.
Perhaps that wasn’t a nice thing to say. Maybe my
nasty thoughts about her and my brother were simply
the result of me being jealous. If I died, my mother
wouldn’t even show up to my funeral. She wouldn’t
reach into the dirt, muddying herself up, to show one
final act of respect to me. So why was I subjecting
myself to watching the woman who birthed me mourn
the loss of the only person she considered to be her
child?
She would never cry for me like that. She would
never miss me the way she was going to miss him. I
was nothing to these people, and I didn’t need to be
here. I didn’t need to watch this funeral from the side‐
lines. All it did was remind me of how unwanted I was
—and how unwanted I always would be.
Looking in my rearview mirror, I stared at my
reflection. My hazel eyes were vibrant and intense as I
gazed at myself. My skin was smooth and poreless. My
teeth perfectly white and straight. I was gorgeous.
Stunning. My face was sublime and my body was to
die for.
But behind my striking eyes was pain. Behind my
megawatt smile was sadness. And my perfect skin
itched to be touched by someone who cared for me.
But there was no one.
Physically, I was perfect. Internally, I was a hot
mess.
No matter how immaculate I made myself look on
the outside, the facts of my life would never change.
No one wanted a fucked up girl like me in their lives—
hell, sometimes I even thought my friends all hated me,
despite the fact that I’d known them for years.
I closed my eyes, taking a few deep breaths.
You are in control.
You can handle anything life hands you because it’s
already handed you a lot.
No one can break you but you.
I chanted to myself while I watched people who
cared for my brother say goodbye. And finally, once
every single person left, I drove to the plot and got out
of my car.
“Excuse me,” I said, walking up to the
groundskeeper folding up chairs. “Would you mind
giving me a few minutes?”
He smiled. “Sure thing, ma’am.”
He slipped away, leaving me to mourn in peace. I
hadn’t spoken to my brother in almost ten years. As I
stared at his placement for his final resting place, I felt
nothing. I could've gone another ten years without
speaking to him. And then ten more. So again, why on
earth was I standing at his gravesite if I didn’t care?
I needed to say goodbye, not to the man he’d turned
into, but to the brother he used to be. Before he
changed into a monster. For that brief moment, I chose
to remember Lee as a protective big brother, as the one
who sheltered me from the worst parts of my child‐
hood. For that moment, I mourned our late-night TV
sessions as children; I chose to mourn the Saturday
morning breakfasts that we made every week. And I
chose to mourn his ability to always make me feel like a
champion whenever we played board games, despite
the fact he always let me win.
I mourned that Lee, not the drunken, violent, angry
man he eventually became.
“You avoided the crowd too, huh?”
I dabbed my nose with a tissue, turning to the voice.
A man I’d never seen before stood beside me. His shiny
hair flopped over his head and forehead in a purpose‐
fully messy way. His thick, dark lashes and deep brown
eyes burned hot as they peered at me. A heavy layer of
scruff coated his cheeks, the messy facial hair a stark
contrast to his perfectly tailored Tom Ford suit. He had
taste—and maybe a bit of money, judging by that suit—
so I wasn’t sure why he was at a funeral for my classless
brother.
I turned back to Lee’s hole in the ground. “I wasn’t
avoiding the crowd. Just one person in particular.”
“Hmm,” he said, lifting a flask to his lips before
offering it to me.
I accepted without a second thought. I wasn’t much
of a drinker, but the day seemed apt.
“You knew Lee?” the man said as I took a sip.
“He was my brother.”
His brows shot up. “Lee never mentioned he had a
sister.”
“That’s fitting; because I never mention that I have a
brother.”
He chuckled as I handed the flask back.
“You knew him?” I said.
He nodded. “I met him a few years ago and we grew
pretty close. He was a good guy.”
My narrowed eyes shot in his direction. “No...he
wasn’t.”
The man laughed. “Fair enough. But isn’t that what
you’re supposed to say when someone dies?”
I took the flask back, tilting my head in agreement
as I sucked down one more sip before returning it
again. “Fair enough.”
“I’m Warren, by the way.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Warren. Thanks for the
drink.”
I gave the casket—and the hole it was getting
dumped into—one last look before heading towards
my car.
My phone chimed as I walked. It was a text from
my friend, Yasmine.
Yasmine: Did you go?
Me: Yes.
Yasmine: Did you speak to your mother?
Me: No.
She replied with a frowny face. I hadn’t spoken to my
mother since I was 19. Yasmine was the only one of my
friends who knew about my family history. To anyone
else, I just said both of my parents were dead. Yasmine
was convinced that I’d regret not making up with my
mother once she was actually dead and gone. I
wouldn’t.
“You hungry?”
I spun around, watching as Warren ran in my direc‐
tion with a wide smile on his face.
“Um…”
He walked past me and to a shiny red Ferrari. I
lifted a brow. Who was this man, and what business did
he have with my brother?
“Come on. We can eat some good food and talk
about what a shithead Lee was.”
I laughed, my eyes not leaving his three-hundred
thousand dollar car. With nothing to do for the rest of
the day, I slid into his passenger’s seat, cooing at the
cool Italian leather.
He got in the driver’s seat, turning to me with a
wicked smile that made his eyes sparkle and his tanned
cheeks redden.
“Buckle up, Buttercup.”
My eyes widened as he peeled out of the cemetery.
It didn’t even feel like the car was on as he sped away,
but as we got on the highway passing other vehicles
left and right, I knew the car’s barely audible purr was
misleading. I glanced at the speedometer. Warren
must’ve been dead set on joining Lee in an early
grave.
“Do you always drive this fast?” I asked, tightening
my seatbelt.
“It’s the only way to drive this baby. Otherwise,
what’s the point of having it?”
In the blink of an eye, we’d made it to a five-star
seafood and steak restaurant. I went from worrying
about my safety to getting excited about lunch.
Warren tossed his keys to the valet and we entered
the restaurant. The smile that he’d constantly had on
his face dropped when I ordered a glass of water with
lemon.
“Is that how you’re mourning your brother? With
water?”
I smirked. “I’m not a big drinker.”
“Well, the death of a family member is certainly
cause for a cheat day, no?”
I sighed before changing my order to a cocktail. I
ordered a lobster salad with citrus vinaigrette dressing
and Warren ordered a large steak. When our drinks
arrived, he lifted his glass, his shiny Rolex watch glis‐
tening under the lights.
He smiled, noticing where my eyes fell. “Nice, right?
Just got it this week.”
I flashed my wrist, an equally shiny Rolex on my
arm. I didn’t want him to get the wrong idea about me.
I wasn’t a gold digger. I could afford any expensive toy
I wanted to buy.
“I’ve had this one for a while. It’s one of my
favorites.”
He studied the band, nodding in approval. “I appre‐
ciate a woman with taste. And that dress is by…”
“Badgley Mischka. A little old thing I found in the
back of my closest,” I said, as if it were no big deal.
At night, I danced at a high-end strip club. And
during the day, I spoiled myself rotten with my big tips.
My job was frivolous to some, but I worked damn
hard, and I deserved to treat myself to nice things.
After growing up with almost nothing, it made me
appreciate the finer things even more.
Surrounding myself with high-end items reminded
me of how far I’d come, and of how much I could
achieve if I worked hard. It was stupid to some, but I’d
never apologize for taking care of myself, especially
after spending most of my life barely surviving.
Warren resumed the start of his toast. “To Lee. May
your journey to the beyond be sparkled with the illu‐
mination of a thousand stars on your path to the heav‐
ens, and may the good Lord erase the pain of the years
from your soul.”
My eyes narrowed at his thoughtful words.
Whoever Warren thought Lee was, wasn’t the same
person I remembered. I lifted my martini glass to say a
few words of my own.
“To my brother...I will take this rare opportunity to
pray in hopes that hell exists so you can burn there for
all eternity.”
Warren’s brows shot up as I took a long drink
before he finally burst into laughter. “Okay, so tell me
what’s the deal. I’ve known Lee for years, and I’ve even
been to his—your—mother’s house before. Neither one
of them has ever spoken of you. I’ve never seen a
picture of you in the house, either.”
That stung a little. I mean, I didn’t have any photos
of them in my place, but still...what a couple of
assholes.
I shrugged. “My mother got an unnecessary two-
year restraining order against me when I was 19, which
led to me losing my scholarship and getting kicked out
of college.”
“Geez. Well, you seem to be doing okay for yourself
now, no? Still that sucks; college was such a great expe‐
rience for me. It’s unfortunate you missed out.”
“Yeah, it sucks, but I hated it. Not the point, though.
She ruined the one good thing that I’d worked my ass
off for without a second thought. Anyway, I haven’t
spoken to her since. I stayed in the back of the funeral
just to avoid her. And my brother—like our father—
was an abusive, manipulative jerk. My life has been
much better without them in it.”
“So why go to the funeral?”
I took another long drink. “Believe me, I’ve been
trying to figure that out myself. I guess… to make sure
he was really dead and finally out of my plane of exis‐
tence. My mother is already dead to me, so I won’t
have to attend her funeral, luckily. But Lee...we had a
few good years. I wanted to see him one last time.”
He blew out a sharp breath, clicking his tongue.
“Not going to your mom’s funeral? That’s harsh.”
“Does my honesty offend you?”
He shook his head. “Not at all. I know a thing or
two about asshole mothers. Got one of my own.”
“Was she awful to you growing up?”
“No, she just wasn’t there. She left my dad and
disappeared. She sends a birthday card once in a while
to let me know she’s alive, but she was more concerned
with her own needs instead of mine. It was fine. My
dad was great to me growing up.”
I smiled as our food arrived. I watched as our wait‐
ress’ fingers lingered on Warren’s plate as she placed it
in front of him. I rolled my eyes at her lack of subtlety.
She didn’t know us. I could’ve been his wife or girl‐
friend, but she didn’t care as she stared him down.
I looked at Warren. He flashed her a polite smile
before turning back to me. She scowled. I didn’t blame
her for trying. Warren was a very attractive man. He
was tall, I could tell he was fit under his expensive suit,
and there was something behind his eyes that drew me
in. On top of that, he was obviously well off. If the
waitress saw his car, she’d probably try even harder to
get his attention.
But men like him were a dime a dozen. I dealt with
them on a regular basis. At my job, I’ve interacted with
celebrities, politicians, athletes and other elite men.
Warren wanted a cute piece of arm candy to accom‐
pany him for lunch, and I had no problem doing so.
But what the waitress didn’t know is that these guys
are more trouble than they’re worth.
We chatted over lunch, his eyes occasionally
drifting behind me when he listened to me speak. I
tried not to roll my eyes. Whoever the woman was
behind me definitely had his attention, unlike the wait‐
ress. He was done with me, and ready to move onto the
next piece of tail. I didn’t mind; I’d gotten what I came
for—free lunch.
I excused myself to use the restroom. Once I exited,
a man walked up to me.
“Miss, I just want to say you are extremely beauti‐
ful. I haven’t been able to take my eyes off you since
arriving.”
I smiled, sincerely thanking the man for the compli‐
ment. Because of my job, I had to take excellent care of
my body and appearance. Whenever I received praise,
it let me know that my hard work was paying off.
He licked his lips as he looked me up and down. I
knew how men saw me. I was nothing more than a hot
girl to them, but that didn’t bother me. In fact, that was
the reason I made six figures a year as a dancer. But I
knew I was more than that. I knew I was a woman of
substance, so their opinions of me didn’t matter
beyond that. Men were nothing but customers to me.
“Thanks again,” I said, trying to step away from
him. He blocked my path.
“Are you free this evening? I would love to take you
out and show you a good time.”
I sighed. “Not interested.”
I stepped again. He blocked me again, this time,
reaching for my arm. I jerked away. Believe it or not,
I hated being touched without consent. You could
look at me all you wanted, but your hands had no
right to my body. I narrowed my eyes, leaning
into him.
“Touch me again, and your balls will get kicked so
far up into your body, you’ll choke on them in your
throat.”
He laughed, thinking it was cute. But I was serious.
I was very petite, but I wasn’t defenseless. In the past, I
was. And then I wisened up. Now, when a man
approached me, they were approaching a red belt in
taekwondo. And I loved putting my hard work to
good use.
“Hey!” Warren said as he walked up to us. The man
turned around just as Warren clocked him in the face.
A manager and a waiter immediately rushed over to
break them up.
“I’m pressing charges, you asshole!” the man said,
clinging his bloody nose.
Warren slapped a few hundred dollar bills in the
manager’s hands.
“Let’s go!”
We ran out of the restaurant. He snatched his car
keys from the valet box.
“Where are the cars parked?” he asked the valet,
breathless.
“Sir, I can get your car. Just—”
“Never mind; I see it.”
We raced to the car and sped away. I was pretty sure
he didn’t even check traffic before pulling onto the
street.
“Are you crazy? That man is going to find you. The
police have probably already been called.”
He shrugged. “My lawyers will handle it.”
“Why did you attack that man? Punching him like
that seemed a little extreme,” I asked, noticing we were
heading further away from the cemetery, where my car
was parked.
“Because he was eyeing you the entire time. He saw
you there with me, but still chose to be disrespectful.
When you went to the bathroom, I approached his
table and told him to lay off. Seconds after I sit back
down at my table, I look up from my menu and see him
flirting with you in the corner. He deserved it.”
The man must’ve been who Warren was eyeing
behind me when I was talking. And even though I
threatened to knock his nuts into kingdom come, I still
found Warren’s punch to be a bit excessive.
“I could’ve handled him.”
“I’m glad you could’ve,” he said, his tone indicating
that he believed my words. “But luckily, you didn’t have
to because I was there.”
“It’s not like we’re together or anything,” I said, as if
I weren't perturbed earlier from the gawking waitress.
“No, but while you’re with me, you’re mine to
protect, especially from asshats like that.”
I scoffed. “I’m no one’s. And where are we going?
This isn’t the way to my car.”
He lifted one side of his lips into a smirk. “You
ready to get rid of me already?”
“I…”
“Come on; we can’t end the day on a bad note. I
have an idea,” he said, pulling into a marina.
“What-what are you doing?” I could barely keep up
with him.
He looked to me with excited eyes. “Let’s charter a
yacht and relax for the rest of the day.”
“Uh…”
“Come on; it’ll be fun. Relaxing in the open water,
drinking wine while sunbathing.”
I looked at my brown arm. I would never damage
my skin on purpose——I had to look as good a possible
for as long as possible—but the rest of it sounded nice.
Warren seemed a bit erratic, but I was excellent at
reading people, and didn’t think he was harmful. But I
did think he had an end goal. And I wasn’t the type to
put out over a nice meal.
“Look, just because you bought me lunch and are
taking me out doesn’t mean—”
He held up his hands in faux surrender. “I have no
ulterior motives. I just want some company for the day.
Come on; my best friend just died,” he said, giving me
fake puppy dog eyes.
I laughed. “Oh, Lee was your best friend now?”
He shrugged. “If I get extra sympathy points, sure.”
I couldn’t help but smile as his ridiculousness.
“Okay. Fine.”
He smiled. “Great. Now, when the cops come
looking for me for punching that guy, I’ll be untouch‐
able as we’ll be in international waters.”
I laughed. I wasn’t sure if he was joking or if he was
serious. This man was crazy. And I was just as crazy for
going with him.
After a little arguing and a monetary bribe, Warren
was able to finagle his way into chartering a luxury
yacht on the spot. Within the hour, we had a captain, a
chef, and a waiter on board with us. Cruising in the
Pacific being waited on hand and foot? Don’t mind if
I do.
He stripped down to his boxers and sprawled out in
a lounge chair on the deck. I gasped as his skin glis‐
tened under the bright sun, the light casting shadows
on the curved slopes of his abs. A small line of dark
hair trailed down the center of his torso, disappearing
underneath the band of his boxers.
I licked my lips, watching his biceps twist as he
applied suntan lotion to his skin. With my job, I
was almost immune to the effects of men, but
something about Warren sent a prickle down my
skin. After applying the lotion, he stretched and
adjusted himself on the chair, almost in a seductive
way, as if he were moving in a little dance just
for me.
I looked away before he could notice me staring.
Hot or not, I was serious about what I’d told him—I
wasn’t going to sleep with him. I inhaled a deep breath,
staring out as the California skyline slowly disappeared
behind us.
When our eyes met, his lips curled into a smirk,
indicating he’d noticed my previous gawking. “I hope
you don’t mind. Lying out in a suit sounds terribly
uncomfortable.”
“Not at all. And I have no intention of laying out in
a black dress, either.”
His brows shot up as I stripped down to my bra and
panties. Nudity didn’t bother me, but I understood the
implications of undressing in front of him. But no part
of this was sexual.
“Don’t get any funny ideas,” I warned. It was a bra
and panties, no different than if I were in a bikini.
He held his hands up. “I would never.”
I was more than comfortable being nude, but I
wanted to be clear—it wasn’t an invitation for him. I
couldn’t think of the last time I’d had sex, and I wasn’t
particularly interested in doing it any time soon.
Maybe it was because I was exposed to so much sex at
work. Maybe it was just because I didn’t want to. I was
sure men like Warren expected it after a little wining
and dining, but I wasn’t the girl for that.
We laid out in relative silence for a while. Listening
to the waves crashing against the side of the yacht
helped calm my mind, which had been racing non-stop
since I found out Lee had drank himself to death. My
family wasn’t a part of my life I liked to re-visit, but I
owed it to myself to say goodbye to Lee. Now that he
was gone, my hands were officially wiped clean. The
only family that mattered to me was the family I’d built
for myself during my adult life.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked, turning to
me as our waiter approached us with glasses of cham‐
pagne. Warren was right; if there was any time to
drink, it was now. I grabbed a glass before turning to
reply to him.
“I am. Thank you for this. It’s an awful nice gesture
for a complete stranger.”
He grabbed a glass for himself, signaling to the
waiter to keep them coming. He drank his in one gulp.
“I love getting to know people. And I definitely want to
spend a bit of time with the sister Lee never
mentioned. Do you live in San Francisco, too?”
“L.A. Just came here for the funeral.”
We grew up in L.A., but my mother moved to San
Francisco at some point in the past few years. She
wanted Lee buried next to her, so he was in a cemetery
here instead of in our hometown. I had a feeling I
wouldn’t be invited to rest in the family plot.
“Oh, okay. I’m not too far from there as well.”
“So what do you do, anyway?”
He shrugged. “Does it matter?”
I shook my head. “Not really. I was just curious.”
I think he and I had an unspoken understanding.
This day we were spending together was nothing.
Tomorrow, I was going to go back to my quiet life, and
he was going to go back to his—probably with a new
woman to keep him company. Who we were, what we
liked, and our history didn’t matter. And I was fine
with that.
I leaned back in my chair as our waiter came back
with fresh glasses for us. I was going to pay for all of
my drinking later. But I shrugged it off. My brother
died, after all.
“I’m a public speaker mostly,” he finally confessed.
“What, do you do TED Talks or something?”
“No. Mostly universities.”
“Hmm,” I said, not entirely sure I believed him. He
drove way too nice of a car and flashed way too much
money around trying to get this yacht to be a college
speaker. But I didn’t press it. It didn’t matter.
“What do you do? Hell, what’s your name?”
I turned to him, an eyebrow lifted. “Does it matter?”
I said, mimicking his earlier sentiment.
He paused before laughing, nodding in agreement.
“I like you, Buttercup.”
A few drinks later, we were talking about nothing
in particular and I was laughing my ass off. A few more
drinks later, we turned on music and danced on top of
a table at the edge of the yacht—much to the captain's
chagrin. And one more drink later, I was out cold.
A L L O R N O T H I N G
The man she has isn’t good for her, and the man she
craves doesn’t want her.
To the outside world, Mercedes is perfect. Inside, she's
hanging on by a thread. When she meets two billion‐
aire brothers who turn her life upside down, she
quickly falls for both of them. But the timing couldn't
be worse. She needs to get her life together and heal
the wounds of her past if she wants a real shot at a rela‐
tionship. The brother who is interested in a relation‐
ship with her is just as damaged, and she doesn’t know
if she can handle his chaos on top of her own.
Spencer, the man she wants, continuously pushes her
away. If Spencer really is the man she’s supposed to be
with, why is he treating her like she’s disposable? Her
brain has always been her worst enemy; she should
know better than to listen to her broken mind.
Warren, the man she has, wants Mercedes more than
he’s ever wanted a woman in his life. His ever-growing
obsession with her causes his playboy lifestyle to
quickly fade to the side. But old habits die hard, and by
the time Mercedes realizes Warren isn’t all he’s cracked
up to be, she may be in too deep.
She wants them both, but maybe she needs neither. At
the end of a whirlwind entanglement filled with pain,
loss, and life-altering changes, she knows she has to
pick one of them—she just hopes she chooses the
right man.
This BWWM is the fifth story in the Seven Deadly Sins
series. While it is a standalone, it’s recommended you
read the books in order. Guaranteed happily ever after
with no cliffhanger.
Book one: Too Proud to Beg
Book two: The Marriage Arrangement
Book three: Slow Burn
Book four: Lost in Lust
Click here to purchase
A L S O B Y J A S M I N E G A R N E R :
Honeymoon with the Stranger
Abandoned days before her extravagant destination
wedding, Shae is cast into a pit of hopelessness so deep, the
only thing her mind can concentrate on is trying to survive.
Her entire life has been nothing but tragedy, bad luck, and
bad decisions- how stupid of her to think she could find
happiness with someone.
With nothing to live for, she finds herself paralyzed in her
depression, unable to find a light, a reason to go on.
Until an unbearably sexy stranger enters her life. Instead of
helping her survive, he begins showing her how to really
LIVE.
The more time she spends with him, the more she questions
everything she held true to believe about herself. She's
changed for sure, but is she changing for the better, or is this
stranger taking her deeper into the depths of her own
personal hell?
Private Affairs
The love of her life betrayed her in the worst way possible.
She runs from him, from the betrayal, and starts a brand new
life for herself. But when he reappears back in her life, she
realizes their love is as strong as ever. She has to forgive him
before they can move on, but does he even deserve a second
chance?
Is he her soul mate, or her worst decision?
A B O U T T H E A U T H O R
In 2013, my husband, AKA my Happily Ever After,
took a leap of faith in me when I was too afraid to.
Three days before our wedding, we made the decision
for me to abandon my soul-crushing 9 to 5 in order for
me to give this writing thing a try. It was a lifelong
dream fulfilled, and I haven’t looked back since.
Between chasing after a toddler, navigating the crazi‐
ness that is marriage, writing out wild fantasies to
share with the world, and fighting to maintain my
sanity, my life is non-stop— but I wouldn’t have it any
other way.
There have been ups and downs, cringe-worthy
learning experiences, and moments of doubt. But the
high of living life on my own terms is always enough to
prevent any lasting uncertainty.
I’m incredibly thankful to my avid readers who carve
precious time out of their lives just to indulge them‐
selves in one of my projects. And I can never repay my
“Happily Ever After” for taking the first step for me to
begin this whirlwind of a journey.
In my spare time, you can find me aimlessly pacing
around my house with an alcoholic concoction,
splurging on cartoons or true crime shows, or
awkwardly standing in the middle of a social function
biting my tongue as I try not to blurt out something
inappropriate.
For up to date news, or to join her monthly newsletter
(which has freebies and exclusive content), visit her
website at www.JasmineGarnerBooks.com.
Twitter/Facebook/Instagram: @JGarnerBooks
Email: [email protected]
Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/UEA9f
Copyright © 2019 by Jasmine Garner
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,
distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including
photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical
methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher,
except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews
and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
For permission requests, you must obtain written permission from
T.M. Lear.
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination.
Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric
purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to
businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely
coincidental.
Ordering Information:
Quantity sales. Special discounts are available on quantity purchases
by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact
Lesson Learned/ Jasmine Garner-- 1st ed.
Recommended
