Maximum Dare Read online

  FBI Anti-Piracy Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of a copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to five years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Maximum Dare Copyright © 2020 Vanessa Fewings

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, including Internet usage, without written permission from the author. This story is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity and are used fictitiously. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.

  Cover created by: Najla Qamber @NajlaQamberDesigns

  Cover Photo Model: Bernardo Velasco

  Formatted by: Champagne Book Design

  Editor: Debbie Kuhn

  ISBN: 978-1-7337742-8-4

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  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

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Epilogue

  Also from Author Vanessa Fewings

  About the Author

  For those in need of healing.

  This was a bad idea.

  Like one of those things that makes perfect sense in your mind but once you’ve done it, it’s perfectly nonsensical. I clutched the fancy gold envelope to my chest, catching a glimpse of my reflection in the bar’s long mirror. I looked worse than I’d imagined, my expression revealing my guilt—and my pain. The dark circles under my eyes were reminders of what had been done to me.

  The moment Morgan Hawtry had set her sights on my man, my life had been obliterated. Everything I’d believed to be true was a lie. Seeing the two of them together had left my heart paralyzed.

  And this swanky lounge would prove a decent setting for more heartbreak if Nick didn’t even register my presence.

  On numerous occasions, I’d passed by Isobel’s Bar, but had never actually ventured inside. Nick had preferred our local pub—the kind of place where he could sit quietly and not have to chat with strangers.

  I tried to ignore the warning in my head that being here was a mistake. At twenty-three, this little adventure felt like being back at Uni, where we had made bad decisions and put it down to naivety. But even back then I’d never done anything like this.

  I buried the golden envelope in my handbag to hide the evidence of my thievery and then nudged my glasses up my nose to act like I hadn’t just plucked it out of Morgan’s Prada handbag. I’d taken advantage of those moments when she’d been distracted with her tongue in my boyfriend’s mouth.

  Okay…ex-boyfriend, but there was still a chance he’d come back.

  I needed to believe this.

  Nick had to realize this woman was bad news. Surely he’d seen the numerous selfies of her committing idiotic acts of danger. She’d posted countless images of her recklessness. More recently, she’d leaped off seaside cliffs during a holiday in Greece, gotten too close to a rhino at a zoo, zoomed down a city street on a Vespa without a helmet, and last week, she’d filmed herself getting a tattoo of a scorpion on her bum—her birth sign.

  The Queen of Social Media had stolen something of great value to me. She’d stolen him—the best thing that had ever happened to me. The man I’d been living with up until three weeks ago, when I’d found the note that told me he was leaving…that he needed time to figure things out. He’d not revealed the real reason.

  Thanks to Morgan’s Instagram page, I’d discovered he’d left me for her. She’d posted a photo of her new beau and it had been the love of my life.

  She was impossible to compete with. Morgan was quite simply stunning. Not only out of my league but out of my universe.

  I’d left work at Harvey Nichols and driven all the way here from Knightsbridge in rush hour traffic to make it to Isobel’s before the new couple bailed and headed off to another party—something Morgan was famous for, since her popularity knew no bounds.

  I tried to ignore the many glances from the lounge’s über-posh crowd in their high-society fashions, their snarky looks aimed at my simple black minidress. Or maybe they’d guessed Nick’s ex had arrived and was on the verge of making a scene.

  Both Nick and Morgan had looked uncomfortable when they’d first spotted me. If my strategy worked, Nick would take me aside and want to talk with me about why I was here.

  That was my in—my chance to warn him.

  None of his mates from his football team were here. The only reason I’d found out about this party was because I’d seen Morgan showing off about the event on Facebook.

  Turning up like this probably seemed a bit stalkerish—but trust me, this was about saving a man who’d once saved me…back when all I’d known was grief. This was me looking out for Nick now, making sure he didn’t blow up his life for a girl who could never truly love him. It was easy to see why she’d hunted him down. Nick was a rising football star destined to follow in his dad’s iconic footsteps.

  Why did he have to look so adorable with his tousled dark blond hair and expressive grey eyes? Chiseled features made him stand out even in this freakishly good-looking crowd, along with his athletic physique. I was now entering the hating phase…the I-can’t-bear-to-be-in-the-same-room phase. Yet Nick still made my insides do a flip-flop.

  The last few weeks had been crushing in so many ways. The house we’d shared in Bermondsey was going to be sold. Moving out was inevitable because Nick was now living with Morgan in her Chelsea high-rise.

  That girl was my opposite: Tall and blonde and a first prize winner in the genetics lottery. I was a brunette with blue eyes who wore round-rimmed glasses—my look was more the girl next door. Not wild and sexy like Morgan, a woman who chased after endless fun and thrived on surprises.

  Before she’d stolen my man, I’d followed Morgan’s make-up tutorials posted for and viewed by millions. She had two speeds—partying fashionista or poolside babe.

  My speed was literally in reverse. There was no competing with a woman who was an expert at wooing men with her fake charm. And I’d never have the kind of money it would take to look like her. She indulged in cosmetic surgery to tweak imperceptible imperfections, giving her a flawless, airbrushed appearance that was hard to imitate.

  Nick was destined to become another “Most Hated” post on Morgan’s Instagram page after she’d tired of him and moved on. It was inevitable. That was her thing.

  I couldn’t let it happen to him.

  A few minutes alone with Nick and I’d be able to show him the evidence I’d found on Morgan’s social media pages to prove she was bad news. He seemed oblivious to the long list of exes mentioned in her blog posts—whimsical fan
cies who formed the fodder for her emotional breakdowns and at the same time garnered her more followers.

  But even knowing all of this, I still hesitated—guilt for stealing that envelope niggling at my conscience.

  Don’t do it.

  Don’t lower yourself to her standards.

  Rummaging around in my handbag, I retrieved the envelope ready to slip it back into Morgan’s Prada purse.

  Oh, no!

  They were leaving.

  Hand in hand, Nick and Morgan waved goodbye to the crowd like they were a celebrity couple. My worried glare tracked their movement along the other side of the window.

  Having not quite used up my stalker quota for the evening, I decided what the hell and grabbed my parka from the barstool, pulling it on. I followed them out and was hit with a blast of freezing cold January wind that stung my face.

  A limo was waiting for them. A chauffeur wearing a grey suit opened the back door in a formal gesture so that Morgan could elegantly slide into the back.

  Nick stopped short of climbing in behind her to pin me with a look of disbelief. My humiliation rose with each faltering step and I forced a weak smile to reassure him.

  It’s just me, your ex. The girl with no life who refuses to let you go.

  I gathered the courage to sprint forward, holding out the envelope. “She dropped this—”

  SLAM!

  My glasses went flying as I collided with a rock-hard male body. My cheek squished against a woolen coat as my body fell heavily against his, a flood of pheromones rushing through me from his heady cologne. It reminded me of endless nights filled with sordid pleasures. At first I was reluctant to look up, afraid I might be disappointed after that incredible preview…

  “Hi, there,” he said, his tone amused, his accent seductively foreign.

  Dazed, I peered up at his face. He was too tall to kiss, this dark stranger with a three-day stubble. His masculine scent stirred a forbidden desire deep inside of me and I couldn’t speak for a moment. He was so damn gorgeous. His temples revealed just a hint of grey—making me think he was in his thirties. His hypnotic brown eyes crinkled with kindness as he gave me a dazzling smile.

  “Thank you?” I finally said. The response had made sense in my head.

  He must have found it humorous, as I saw his full, kissable lips quirk up in a smile—a smile that suddenly faded as he glanced over my shoulder.

  Someone from behind me gripped my arms and dragged me away from him, forcing me to trot on unsteady heels towards an SUV. I had no choice but to move in that direction, feeling dizzy as the world whooshed by.

  My handbag slipped off my shoulder and landed on the ground as that someone then shoved me against the front of the vehicle, pushing me forward until my cheek pressed against the hard metal of the car bonnet. I tried to push myself up, but my hands were suddenly drawn behind my back and I was held down, incapacitated—and vaguely aware that the handsome stranger was watching.

  My cheeks ablaze, I cringed at the thought that Nick was seeing this, too.

  I lifted my head a little and saw Morgan climb out of the limo. She whipped out her iPhone and pointed it in my direction.

  The flash was blinding.

  “Wait right there!” I called after my brother as he climbed into the back of a limo.

  God, it’s cold.

  I could see my breath forming white puffs in the air. January in England was never kind. I rubbed my arms in a failed attempt to warm up. Nick was bailing on his own party. The bastard didn’t even have the courtesy to wait for me. Considering I’d flown in from Brazil, this was not cool.

  But before I headed over to Nick’s car, I first needed to deal with the woman who’d slammed into me. My driver, Carl, had the situation under control as I approached. He was currently holding the girl with her face pressed against the hood of the SUV.

  “Você está bem?” Wait, I’m in London. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m having a blast!” she snapped.

  “Do I know you?” I tilted my head and saw expressive blue eyes peeking out between locks of long brown hair. Even with a scowl, she certainly didn’t look like a threat.

  “I was trying to get to my boyfriend,” she said.

  “Nick?” I stood up straight and shot a glare through the dark tinted windows. My brother was in the back of that car with a blonde, no less.

  “He’s your boyfriend?”

  “We live together.”

  That was news to me.

  “Well, we used to,” she added. “He’s my ex now.”

  I motioned for Carl to let her go and she immediately picked her handbag up off the ground. When she straightened, dark curls tumbled over her shoulders and caught in the breeze.

  “Come onto the pavement,” I told her.

  She was pretty, even ethereal, with big soulful eyes and pink sensuous lips. Her long curls enhanced her youthful appearance. I tried to fathom why my brother had ditched her.

  Her smashed glasses lay in front of me on the pavement. I picked them up and handed them back, trying not to cringe. She took them with a nod of thanks and then turned them over, frowning at the damage.

  Carl handed her an envelope. “This is yours, too?”

  She shook her head. “I was trying to return it.”

  I braced for the onslaught that might be coming my way, expecting her to object to the way my driver had treated her. Half the bar was gaping at us through the window.

  I refocused on her. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

  She rubbed her wrists. “It’s how I like to spend my Friday nights…an evening of total humiliation topped off by being manhandled by a complete stranger.”

  “Sorry about that.”

  “What did I do wrong?”

  “You came at me rather fast. Carl’s my driver and he doubles as a bodyguard.”

  I’d be shaking him off after tonight. He usually drove my mother. She had insisted he usher me around after my arrival in London.

  “I didn’t see you,” she said, slipping the ruined glasses into her purse.

  “I’m rather hard to miss.” She looked annoyed, so I held out my hand to shake hers. “I hope you’ll accept my apology.”

  She wrapped her fingers gently around mine and squeezed, sending a shiver of delight into my palm and up my wrist. When she finally let go of my hand, I had the urge to shake off the tingling sensation.

  What was that feeling exactly?

  “I’m Daisy.”

  “Max.”

  “Nick’s brother?” She blushed.

  Her sweetness had eased the tension in the air. If she hadn’t been connected to my brother, I’d have swooped in at once. I couldn’t understand why Nick had kept her hidden away. I was struck by her grace. The way she threw a reassuring wave to Carl was endearing.

  “Can you wait here?” I asked.

  When she nodded, I made my way over to Nick’s limo. I rested a hand on the open passenger door and leaned over to glare at my sibling in the back seat. “You’re leaving?”

  “Hey,” said Nick. “You made it!”

  “Is that meant to be funny?” I pointed a thumb at the bar. “Are you going back in?”

  He gestured to the woman sitting beside him. “This is Morgan.”

  His weak diversion made my jaw clench with frustration.

  “You must be Max?” she cooed.

  “Nice to meet you, Morgan.” I returned my focus to him. “I’ve flown thousands of miles to be here.”

  “I appreciate that. You’re here for a couple of weeks, right?”

  I took a deep, calming breath, reminding myself that, while Nick could be infuriating, it wasn’t really his fault. He was still dealing with his father’s death. More recently, I was concerned his grief was affecting him in new and interesting ways. His phone calls to me had dropped off and Mum had shared how worried she was about him. Nick and I shared the same mother, though that was where our similarities ended.

  I loved my half b
rother, but Nick was always pushing his boundaries.

  Twenty-six years ago, my mother had been swept off her feet by one of England’s most prominent football players—Nick’s dashing father. The only solace for me as a kid was that I loved football, so me staying with Mum during the holidays was always something I looked forward to. Growing up playing football with an icon in the garden had soothed this boy’s hurt feelings.

  Still, the divorce had left behind shards of pain that had never eased. I was only seven years old when my mother left us…left my father to die from a broken heart. I’d never revealed that to anyone—least of all my mother.

  My unfailing obsession with football was now encouraged by this asshat. Nick was a talented player. I both envied and admired him at the same time. I felt envy for the time he’d had with my mum after she’d left me in São Paulo. And I felt inspired by him because he was set to follow in his dad’s footsteps and become an icon himself.

  Which was probably why I decided to give Nick a pass this time…another in a long line of passes. “Come back in and update me on how it’s going with you joining Manchester United.”

  “I really don’t feel up to it,” he whined. “Anyway, you prefer Brazil’s national football team.”

  “Not as far as you’re concerned. I love hearing about…”

  I saw Morgan’s expression and it hit me—Nick probably had an erection and they were heading off to shag. There was no negotiating with these two.

  Nick brightened. “Are you staying at the Waldorf Astoria?”

  “Yes.” The hotel was closer to his place than our family estate. I’d hoped to spend some time with him. “I thought we might hang out?”

  He smirked. “I’ll hang out with you tomorrow at Mum’s during the party.”

  “What party?” I cringed at Mum’s never-ending attempts to introduce me to high society girls. In her mind, her thirty-three-year-old son should be married by now. Didn’t she know she’d put me off marriage…tainted my desire for that level of commitment? I’d witnessed too much heartache in my dad to ever romanticize love.

  Not so for my brother, who was always flirting with someone. From the way Nick couldn’t keep his hands off Morgan, I could see he was infatuated with the stunning blonde.