Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

S elena

The fantasy always seemed so real, or maybe it was just wishful thinking.

At least I had a vivid imagination.

A single bead of perspiration trickled down between my breasts, my pussy throbbing just like in the fantasy. Geez. I was hot and wet all over.

"Earth to Selena."

"What?" I jerked up my head, cognizant that the same oppressive heat had rushed to my face. Here I was sitting in the middle of a crowded bar with hot yet arrogant men all around me and I was somewhere else. I blinked as Bella tilted her head in my direction, amused that she'd been right.

She pointed her finger at me, laughing softly.

"She's envisioning Mr. Perfect again, a fantasy man every girl would want and one that doesn't exist. Just look around. If you find a perfect man in this place, I'll give you a million dollars." Willow Rivers was a dear friend, one of my oldest in the world. She knew all my darkest secrets, including the fact I'd always hated my body. My mother said I had an hourglass figure just like her. Meanwhile, I'd wanted to be stick thin just like my friend who could eat anything and everything she wanted. If I did, I'd be a blimp.

But I adored her effervescent personality and lust for life. She was the kind of girl men looked at, just like they were doing now. Lucky bitch. We'd gossiped about boys, imagining the perfect man all through our years in college.

And she was right. They didn't exist.

I should know, Miss Dateless for years, my last boyfriend a complete freak of nature.

"You don't have a million dollars," Bella teased.

"I could get it if I wanted." Willow flicked her hair over her shoulders as she used to when she was interested in a boy.

Hissing like a furious cat, I tossed my napkin at her. "I'm right here."

"Uh-huh," both girls said at the same time.

"I was. We were talking about…" Ah, hell. I had no clue what our conversation had been about. God, I was pathetic, living in pipe dreams and frosting. At least owning a cupcake business might make me happy.

As long as I didn't eat the product.

Fuck me.

Abysmal.

That was my life in a nutshell.

"Our little pervert," Willow teased.

"You are such a bitch," I told her, but she could always make me smile.

"A-hem," Bella chided. "We were talking about what seems like a very irrational decision and you're not getting out of talking about it."

"Oh, that," I said under my breath and took a sip of my drink.

"Let me get this straight," Willow asked from the other side of the table. "You left a three-hundred-thousand-dollar job in your father's company to work at a local bakery for what, ten bucks an hour?"

I glared at my friend for a few seconds. I'd already chastised myself for quitting one day out of the blue when I'd had a solid three-year plan. On top of everything, I'd ignored my father's recent calls. I was a bad daughter.

Even if he was an oppressive old man, no longer the sweet and loving father I remembered from my childhood. Money did that to you. Greed and the hunger to claim every piece of the pie did that to you. He'd even told me I needed to find a husband because I wasn't getting any younger. Yeah, if he had it his way, he'd fix me up with his best friend's geeky son. Not a chance in hell.

"You knew this weeks ago. The last time we had drinks and the last time you ate one of my goddamn cupcakes." Okay, so maybe I was tired of being treated like a petulant child.

Then stop acting like one.

I'd been the good girl, the planner. The organizer. A book nerd. Studious to a fault. And I'd chucked it all for what I was starting to believe was a pipe dream.

Willow lifted a single eyebrow before taking a sip of her blue curacao martini. How could people drink shit like that?

"And why did you suggest this bar? There's nothing but spoiled rich boys and cronies here."

"You do know the old saying. You can catch more flies with honey than you can with vinegar." Willow winked. All she had to do was wag her little finger and the men would come running.

I continued stirring my Absolut martini with the swizzle stick, scanning the hopping bar one last time before giving one of my best friends a death stare. Willow had been one of my besties long before we'd decided to head to the same college, much to both our parents' chagrin. We'd been little hottie troublemakers, even if we'd also competed for the valedictorian and salutatorian positions for graduation. As usual, I'd won.

To this day, she refused to let me live it down.

"And just why do I want a fly when I can have a true Neanderthal?" I retorted. It felt more like we lived in a college town than a rich man's haven. Although I could dub San Diego a spoiled brat's playground. There were the rich and the poor, nothing in between. If you were lucky enough to be born into the upper echelon of society, your entire life was handed to you on a silver platter. Forget about silver spoons; you were one of the few that had everything waiting for you.

An Italian sports car at sixteen.

A multimillion-dollar trust fund at birth.

Admittance to every social club on the West Coast by twelve.

A jet.

A yacht.

Me? I'd been born on the other side of the coin, my parents required to work two jobs, but they'd pulled themselves into an amazing position over the last few years, my father's media production corporation finally getting the just recognition it deserved. He'd managed to lure decent writers to create two television programs, even hiring A-list actors to portray the leads. I'd been forced when working for him to kowtow to every one of them, something I'd hated.

My parents already loved being a part of Hollywood glamor, talk of at least one Emmy nod making them the talk of the town. They were close to becoming rich and famous. Great. Like that wouldn't go to my father's head even more than success had.

At least they were people I could be proud of. This bar? It was full of spoiled bratty boys who would likely never grow up. I was disgusted and over trying to date anyone in this town.

"I think what darling Willow is saying is that you've become a bore lately." Bella Fontaine had been the third musketeer in our college experience, her wild tales of growing up just outside Paris delightful. "Yes, we know you have this amazing dream of being the next great American baker but after four months, you're still working at a bakery."

"I thought I could learn something while I searched for the right location," I insisted. And while I tried to clone what money I had. I wasn't na?ve but going into business in this town was akin to madness. You had to be rich, and I wasn't that by a long shot.

"About making cupcakes? Oh, please, darling. You create the tastiest ones I've ever had but it's not rocket science." Willow continued to add salt to the oozing wound.

She certainly didn't mince words.

"A bore? Not rocket science?" I demanded, tossing back most of my martini. "You try making a few dozen beautifully decorated cupcakes, presenting them with love and attention. Then you tell me if everyone can do it."

"Why, yes, darling. A sullen bore." She was grinning. "I'm not trying to insult your dream. We're both just concerned you might have made a teensy-weensy rash decision in quitting such a high-paying job."

Neither one of them understood what facing the wrath of my father was like. His mood swings had escalated, and he rarely talked about why. I'd quit because he'd berated me in front of the other employees over nothing. No-thing.

Willow leaned in. "I think her terrible decision-making ability is because she hasn't had sex since she lost her virginity a hundred years ago."

"How about we announce it to the entire place?" I swung my arms out in my usual dramatic fashion, my voice louder than theirs combined.

Oops.

No one would ever call me delicate.

"Why don't I?" Willow actually got up from her chair, and I almost punched her in the gut. Instead, I yanked her back down.

"You do that, and you die."

"Such harsh words," Bella said, laughing her butt off. "You need to relax, girl. Take a chill pill and have a fling, or at least find a hobby. Other than baking. That's all you do. You bake, you try and find a place for your little cupcake shop, and you sleep."

"She's right, you know. You always manage to settle for either the ugliest toad in the lake or find the slimiest. And you consider them boyfriend material. You need to secure the kind of man who will treat you like the princess you deserve to become."

I wanted to break out into hysterical laughter. "As if you're going to find one of those lurking around."

Willow winked more at Bella than at me. "I just might. But truthfully. Why quit what seemed like a dream job?"

"Because it wasn't a dream job." The two of them just stared at me. "Look. I'd had enough of helping my father achieve massive success. Okay? The job was confining. The actors were assholes. The production staff was demanding. I had no time to explore my dream."

When they just looked at each other as if I was suddenly a green alien, I sighed. "What?"

"You should hear yourself," Bella said as nicely as I thought was possible.

"Yes. Okay. Fine. I would love to have a sinful date. You know the kind of guy who isn't a wallflower, doesn't just pay more attention to his phone than he does to me, doesn't try and impress me with Daddy's money and who, by chance or some miracle, actually gives a damn about the conversation we're having. Encompass all that in a hot, sweaty, dominating package of a man, and I will be thrilled beyond belief to fall happily into bed with him. After a nice dinner on his tab of course. Then he could do what he wanted with me, tying me to the bed, spanking my naughty butt, and using me for hours and hours. And hours."

They were still both staring at me.

"Whew," Bella whistled.

"Let me ask you a question. If I find this man who suits your rather jaded needs in every way, you'll at least call or text him?" Willow asked.

As if that was possible. I laughed and lifted my glass as the waiter swung by. "Abso-fucking-lute-ly."

Willow was one of those girls I should know better than to challenge. "Look out, world," she mused. "One hot date on the horizon."

Right. As I scanned the bar once again, while some of the men were kind of cute in a prissy boy way, they would crumble under my magical thumb.

I had no chance of finding a real man, not some pretty boy hiding underneath a ten-thousand-dollar suit.

Not in this town.