(Rewritten version of 'Playboy Rehab' - Wattys 2014 Winner) Leslie King is a publicist nestled in the heart of Los Angeles representing Garrett Harrison, president of Harrison Incorporated - one of the world's leading real estate and brokerage empires. Having had Garrett Harrison as her client for years, she has grown used to the uniformity in her job - not to mention the uniformity in her personal life. However, when Garrett Harrison shares the news of his retirement, Leslie's professional and personal life becomes anything but the harmonious routine she has grown used to. Sebastian Harrison - handsome Hollywood playboy and the youngest son of Garrett Harrison - enters Leslie's life in the most unusual of ways as she is asked to turn the King of Debauchery into a man fit and trusted enough to become the CEO of Harrison Incorporated. Even though Leslie vows to fulfill the expectations of the task handed to her, she soon discovers that Sebastian Harrison's past is darker and more complicated than what she has read and researched about him. Now, Leslie is caught between satisfying the expectations of her job description and helping the mysterious and twisted spirit that Sebastian Harrison possesses. Regardless of what choice she makes, Leslie knows that there is more to Sebastian Harrison than she could have ever prepared herself for.
View More** This scenario seems too familiar to me. You know—the scenario of me crying on my kitchen floor while trying to calm my nerves with a glass of wine. The familiarity of this is probably what's hardest. It seems like my life is a cycle of reoccurring events. Sebastian's gone, and I'm here surrounded by a broken wine glass. But I'm not the innocent one; I went after him shortly after he left me flustered and deceived against my kitchen sink. There was broken glass involved in that, too. Broken glass, screaming, pushing, hitting. Most of that done by me. I'll take the blame for that. I suppose it's best to explain the events that came after Sebastian left me in my kitchen. I c
**I come into consciousness shortly after I pass out. Claude has me on the sidewalk when I finally open my eyes. I hope that when I open my eyes, the last hour or so would be just a dream. But sadly, that isn't the case. "Leslie," Claude tells me. "I need you to breathe." This time, I take deeper breaths and keep a rhythm. In and out, in and out. My hands are tightly gripping Claude's forearms as I sit on the curb; I might fall over without his support. "I'm sorry. It just...I just—" "Don't apologize." He says to me, his blue eyes wise and trusting. "You need to get out of here; you've had enough for today."
**I wake up the next morning and immediately get to work.I've been receiving calls about Sebastian's party since I opened my eyes—E! News, People, TMZ, POPSUGAR, you name it. Apparently, they all want to know the reason for Sebastian's erratic behavior at his house party and why he was so ballistic in the first place. Darcy and I have been commenting the same thing: "We don't have a comment on that at this time." The ironic this is, I'm the reason he was acting that way in the first place. Though, I'm the last person they'd expect to push Sebastian to that point.I sit at my dining room table, sipping coffee even though I'm not in the mood to consume much of anything, and sift through the rest of my emails on my laptop. I'm trying my best to keep 'him' out of my mind, bec
** "This is Sebastian. You know the fucking drill." I sigh irately—one, for calling Sebastian twenty times already only to be led to voicemail, and two, for the voicemail's existence in the first place. I make a mental note to tell him to change it whenever he feels comfortable with talking to me again. "Hey, Sebastian. It's me again. I know for a fact you're ignoring me." I play with a stray piece on my button up shirt and sigh. "I don't blame you. I don't know how many times I'll have to apologize for you to forgive me, but I think we should talk first before that happens. Call me back." I hang up and vow not to call him back. It's already 9:00PM, and I've been blowing up his phone since he left the conferen
It's my fault for thinking this wouldn't happen. Usually I would admit to my own fault with a hint of uncertainty, using words such as "I guess" or "I suppose." I won't use them this time; this is my fault. Point. Blank. Period. I went this long, letting the lie accumulate into something that it never would have been if I were just honest in the first place. In my defense, I thought Sebastian wouldn't open up to me if he knew I was paid a very large sum to be with him. Is that a valid argument? I hope so; it's the only one I have. That, and the fact that my feelings have changed drastically during this month with his company. Garrett strides into the conference room with an ulterior motive set deep into his dark blue eyes. Everyone is puzzled; I'm not. I know exactly why he's he
**I had never been a victim of "the morning after" until now.You know—leaving the location that you had sex at with a mixture of guilt and pleasure in your system, wearing the same clothes as the night before, holding your head down, that sort of thing.After getting dressed in the clothes I wore the day before, Sebastian walks me out of his house to his driveway. Despite holding my head down, the bright sun still burns my eyes.Even the sun is judging me.I haven't turned on my phone since last night. It's both a blessing and a curse; I hate being so disconnected, yet it is nice to detach once in a while. Plus, Sebastian would roll his eyes if I turned on my phon
This chapter is 18+. Reader's discretion is advised.**Song of the Chapter -I Miss Youby Adele (Playable in the Media Section)**All I'm going to say is, I hope my mother doesn't read this chapter any time soon.**I guess I can start this off by saying that I've seen the tattoo on Sebastian that he was talking about. It isn't as glorious as seeing Sebastian's ass itself, but it's nice to have a little comic relief once in a whi
**I've never been at such odds with my wardrobe.My clothes gaze back at me, taunting me with the fact that no matter what outfit I pick, one will always be better than the other, and because of this, I will be prompted to start all over again and choose a new selection.It's currently a warm Monday afternoon, and I have two hours to get ready and make it over to Sebastian's house for dinner. Beverly Hills isn't too far of a drive from where I live, but I'm certain that indecisiveness will be the reason for my tardiness, not traffic.Pedro trots into my room with his chew toy between his teeth, only to jump on my bed to devour it."Pedro!" I yell at him. "Down!"
** SEBASTIAN "Bro, look over there." Trevor slaps my shoulder, bringing my attention—and the attention of Franklin and Chris—to a table behind us at the restaurant we're at—The Cabana on Melrose. The four women sitting there gives us smiles that say, "If you let me, I'll gladly blow you in the back." Don't get me wrong—they're hot. All four of them. But my mind is a little preoccupied on other things. "You eyeing the redhead?" Franklin asks me. I didn't even realize the girl was a redhead; that's how much I don't care. "Um...nah, not really. Not my type." My friends stare at me like I have five heads. Trevor downs his drink and narrows his eyes. "Hold up, hold up. Four hot chicks are staring our way—four that youknowyou can score all at once, and you're looking like your dog just died. What's up, man?" "Nothing's up." Lies. "I've just got a lot
the giverthat's what I amI give and give yet receive nothingwhether it's giving my body to my mothergiving my heart to my partnergiving my mind to my jobi give until there is nothing left of mei am left with nothingand those I had given tosee the flaws of my giftssee them as thrift instead of goldis who I am cheap to you?i am leslie king!but what weight does that name carrybesides the weight of my body my mother said I had too much ofthe weight of my heart when he made it heavythe weight of my brain when work became too muchi give and givebut when will I receive? ...
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