The Playboy's Crush By Deborah A. Olaleye

Prologue

"I am your mentor," he told him.

Getting off the stool he was sitting on, he made his way toward the lady, taking a seat on the stool by her right while Shane took the one by her left.

Everybody was busy drinking and cheering, with the groom kept busy by the half-naked dancers around him.

More hollers and howls filled the air as a stripper slid to the ground, splayed her legs apart, and twirled around the iron bars.

"Hi, beauty." Derrari waved to get the lady's attention, hollering over the noise.

Shane hissed under his breath.

Mentor, his foot.

Was that the way to approach a depressed lady?

The lady glanced at Derrari and focused on the dark red liquid before her.

"Real beauty!" Derrari spoke to him over her head.

Shane studied her closely, taking in the view with pleasure and admiration. He raised his glass to his mouth and drank, taking in the angelic beauty of the lady.

"Over here, beauty." Derrari gestured.

Shane hadn't seen it coming. She turned without warning in his direction, giving him a full view of her face. He choked on his drink with a sputter.

Holding his breath, he stared at her, but she didn't even seem to notice him. Giving in, he hacked intermittently from his throat, pressing his hand flat out to his chest to suppress his coughs, and nailing Derrari with a death glare as he watched him with an amused smile on his face.

She had the most beautiful face of all. A natural beauty.

Her face was smooth and fresh, with no taint of artificial beautification. She had pairs of lovely, round amber eyes that shone like gold with beautiful, thick, dark, and long eyelashes, and small, round lips that puckered in readiness to be seared with kisses.

Her hair was a rich reddish-brown that pooled down in luscious waves and teasing curls down the frame of her shoulders. Lazy strands of hair hovered over her face and framed it in a state-of-the-art image of Aphrodite in her physical form.

When she looked at him, she paused as if searching his face.

Yeah, he got that often. His looks were irresistible. He was the epitome of a god.

He was handsome and tall, with a face every lady swooned for.

"Are you okay?' she asked in a voice that soothed all the burns in his throat.

"Pardon?" He furrowed his brows.

"You were coughing," she pointed out.

"Oh! Thanks," he said. "Shane Williams." He extended his hand for a shake.

She nodded at him.

Forcing a smile, he retracted his hand. "That's my friend behind you," he informed her.

She looked at Derrari.

"Call me Derrari, beauty." He winked at her and flashed that smile of his-which he tagged as charming-at her.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," she said, turning back to her cup and ignoring the two.

She raked her fingers through her hair, restless in her seat. She tapped her thumb absentmindedly on the counter surface, her gaze fixed on the wine in her cup.

"Hey!" Shane called, trying to attract her attention.

He thought of knocking on the countertop, but it wasn't probable she would hear it over the noise.