Competitive Instincts Read online

  An enticing standalone romance about a bad boy billionaire with a quicksilver mind and a secret heart of gold…

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  Ramona (aka Doc): I’ve got troubles: a wrongly convicted brother, an empty bank account, and a hopeless crusade I can’t abandon. Finn, the bad boy of Bastard Capital, is smoking hot, amazingly funny, and dead brilliant—and trouble with a capital T. Exactly what I don’t need. Except I can’t stop thinking about his massive… brain and his nimble… wit.

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  But Mr. Trouble is also the world’s greatest hacker and the only person who can access the evidence of my brother’s innocence. I’ll do anything for that, including tangling with a man who might snare my heart forever.

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  Finn: Doc’s got a smart mouth, a stunning body, and a fantastically sharp mind. She’d be the perfect woman, except for the fact that we have explosive chemistry and she refuses to act on it.

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  When I unearth proof that her brother was set up, it’s the perfect excuse to get closer. I’m going to prove my brand of bad is oh so good for her.

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  After a few (slightly illegal) break ins and some (super illegal) data theft, it becomes clear we’re up against an old enemy. And I’m terrified I’m not strong enough to fight him and hold onto Doc at the same time…

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  Enter the world of Bastard Capital: Unrivaled men. Unimaginable wealth. Unlimited power.

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  Books in the Bastard Capital Series

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  Secret Acquisitions (Book One, Mark’s story)

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  Unfinished Seductions (Book Two, Logan’s story)

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  Competitive Instincts (Book Three, Finn’s story)

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  Intimate Mergers (Book Four, Paul’s story)

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  Hostile Attractions (Book Five, Elliot’s story)

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  Private Disclosures (Book Six, Dev’s story)

  Competitive Instincts

  Raleigh Davis

  Copyright © 2018 by Raleigh Davis

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Chapter 1

  She’s invaded my territory.

  Doc sitting at a workstation in our secure facility isn’t exactly an invasion though. It’s technically not my territory for starters—it’s owned by Bastard Capital. I’m one of six Bastards, all partners and founders of the firm, but I’m the one who uses this facility the most, so I consider it mine.

  My second thought is… Well, it’s not really a thought. It’s a tightening of my entire body, a shift from let’s get some work done to she’s FUCKING here, pay attention! Really intense, yeah, but not super coherent, at least not enough to get called a thought.

  She peers over the extra-large monitor at me, her purple hair appearing first. She’s streaked it with lilac and gray, and it should look like a wig, but she makes it look like she was born with it.

  Then come her bold brows set above her deep amber eyes. She’s wearing heavy black glasses that a funky librarian would love.

  Then her pert nose—the only part of her face that can be called sweet—and her lush mouth. Her mouth is so sensual it makes me think of hours-long kisses every single time I see it.

  One brow is cocked skeptically, and her mouth echoes that sentiment. Ramona Blythe, PhD, is not impressed with me, but then she never has been.

  I’m not bragging when I say I’m a genius. It’s like saying that my hair is brown or my eyes are blue; it’s just true. In fact, I’m a supergenius, which makes me a pretty big deal in the tech world where everyone gets called a plain old genius on the regular. But I’m a step beyond all those other guys. Again, not bragging, just speaking some truth.

  Except Doc is one of the few—the only—people not impressed by my big brain. Every time we meet, she has to make it clear how little she thinks of me. And of course, since I’m an idiot when it comes to her, it turns me on every time.

  “Hey.” That’s the only greeting she gives as she disappears back behind her monitor.

  “Hey.” I dump my stuff at a workstation where I can have a clear view of her. “What are you working on?”

  “Stuff.” She doesn’t look away from the monitor. “January said I could use the servers here.”

  January is Doc’s boss and the girlfriend of Mark, another Bastard.

  “I know that.” My fingers fly over the keyboard as I log in to my own workstation. “I asked what you were working on. You know, making conversation.”

  I know she loves chatting because she does it with everyone. I’m the only one who gets her pissy side. I guess I should feel blessed.

  “Like I said, stuff.” She hits a key with a flourish, probably sending something off to the servers to run. It feels like a triumphal keystroke. “What about you?”

  Okay, so she doesn’t want to tell me. Which is fair, because I don’t want to tell her what I’m working on.

  “Stuff,” I say as I pull up my code. I launch the program, then pull up my web browser and log in to the Go forums.

  Go is a game invented in ancient China, thousands of years old with deceptively simple rules. More complicated than chess, Go is a meditation and a game all in one, and it’s supposedly uncrackable by a computer.

  There are two players—white and black—and one board, nineteen squares by nineteen squares. All you can do is place a single piece on a square corner with each turn, and the only goal is to capture and control territory on the board. Very simple stuff.

  But, like life, things get complicated on the Go board very quickly. So complicated that even a computer can’t follow the human leaps of intuition needed to play Go at the highest level.

  Chess is a different story. Deep Blue beat Kasparov at chess by brute forcing the calculations. It was basically a really fucking big calculator. Deep Blue can’t play Go, because it can’t think. Not like a human can.

  I can play Go because I can think. But… I’m pretty sure I’m smart enough to design a computer program that can think too—artificial intelligence, AI, aka the holy grail of the tech world.

  Developing a thinking machine requires that I give it things to learn though. If I want my AI to play Go, I need to give it some human brains to practice on. So me and my AI are going to play some Go tonight and see if we can learn anything.

  “Stuff,” Doc echoes contemptuously. “I would’ve thought you’d be gaming.”

  I am, but she means something like a first-person shooter. Quick, dependent on well-honed reflexes, and not exactly meditative. “Nope. Just some work on something I’m testing.”

  Anyone else would look up from their console, ask me what I’m doing. I’m Finn Braden—whatever I’m working on has to be interesting, perhaps even world changing.

  Doc doesn’t even act like she heard what I said.

  Fine. Whatever. I didn’t come here to chat. I came here to test my AI.

  There’re several people in the Go forum, but none of them are at my level. Shit. I can’t let my AI loose on some beginners. It’ll whip all their asses without learning anything that will improve its performance. My machine doesn’t understand nuance or being a graceful winner.

  I guess I can play my AI, but it’s kind of like jerking off—perfectly fine in a pinch, but my dick already knows all my signature moves. There’s no surprise factor.

  Okay, I’m totally pouting right now, and Doc is going to bust my balls when she cat
ches me doing it—although that’s an intriguing picture, Doc and my balls—but I wanted a challenge tonight. And I’m not going to get one.

  Then a window pops up, announcing that QuikSilver has entered the forum.

  Oh hell yes. I resist the urge to pump my fist. QuikSilver is my nemesis, my archenemy. They’re exactly at my level, a consummate shit talker, and they have what I’d call a chaotic style. No, not chaotic—like a split personality. They’ll be going along, playing beautifully, but a little too stodgy to be really great, then suddenly a switch will flip. Then comes some brilliant, crazy moves that I never saw coming. The very opposite of stodgy.

  I want my AI not just to play Go—I want it to be able to predict what the other player will do, to watch their playing style and get into their head. I want it not only to think like a human but read its opponent like a human.

  It’s ambitious, but nobody ever accused me of setting my sights low. I’m a genius. So yeah, my computer program should be a genius too.

  QuikSilver is the perfect person to test my AI on. I’ve never set my AI on them—it wasn’t ready for a player of their level until now.

  I rub my hands together, sneaking a quick look at Doc. She’s so focused on her monitor I’m surprised it doesn’t catch fire. Her lips are parted, gleaming, and I swear I can feel her breathing from all the way across this room.

  Thank God my AI will be playing instead of me, because I can’t think for shit after seeing that.

  I shake it off and focus back on my own work. I send a request to start a game with QuikSilver, which is immediately accepted. And then we’re off.

  I play the first game all on my own without running the AI. Yeah, I’ll probably lose, but whatever. Mostly I want to get myself into the right headspace but also reacquaint myself with my opponent. People can’t hide themselves when they’re playing Go—their personalities are mirrored in each strategy, every move.

  I’ve been told my style is someone who thinks too quickly and ponders too little, relying on flashes of insight to muscle my way through the game rather than thinking through a long strategy.

  I’d say that’s fair.

  QuikSilver is definitely a long-term strategist. They’re sly, the kind of person who likes to hide poisoned darts within an innocent-looking scaffold. There’re no traps that I can see in this first game, but we’re both getting warmed up.

  Across from me, Doc keeps typing away, but her expression has taken on a new focus, like she’s battling with her code. It’s a damn sexy look on her. I mean, most of her looks are damn sexy, but this one is especially so.

  I force myself to look back at my game and realize that while I’ve been lusting after Doc, QuikSilver has somehow outmaneuvered me on the board.

  “Fuck,” I mutter, searching for a way out. I knew this might happen, but it still sucks to lose.

  “Having problems?” Doc asks.

  She finally looks at me, a sweet but tart smile playing on her mouth. Like she’s happy I’m in trouble.

  “No,” I say shortly. “At least nothing I can’t handle.”

  I resign the game since I can’t see any way to win, then flip on the AI. We’re playing best out of five, and I mean to take the next four games without a sweat. And to stop sweating over Doc, although I’m way more likely to win than to do that.

  QuikSilver starts off with a very predictable strategy, which makes my teeth grind. They’re better than this, and my AI won’t learn anything from this kind of play. It’s like they know what I’m doing and are trying to piss me off.

  “Play better,” I say through my teeth.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Oh? Because it sounded like you were having problems. Again.”

  Okay, there’s no mistake now—she’s baiting me. And looking pretty pleased about it. Which of course makes my cock respond.

  Fuck. I am an idiot about this woman.

  I shift in my seat, focusing back on my game. “I’m not.”

  I am though, and if this keeps up, all my test runs tonight will be worthless.

  “Really?”

  There’s a challenge in her voice, one that sparks along my skin. I want to get up from this desk and show her exactly what I want to do with that smart mouth and how I’ve got no problem kissing her until she begs for it.

  She blinks once, long and slow, and I realize I’ve been staring at her like a dork.

  “You seem awfully interested in my problems.”

  That catches her off guard. Her gaze flicks back to her display but doesn’t focus on it. “No. I’ve got my own work, and you won’t stop talking.”

  I see the headphones sitting next to her left hand and smile. She could have put them on at any moment and ignored me.

  But she didn’t. And maybe, just maybe, she’s been noticing me as much as I’ve been noticing her.

  The game clock on my screen goes red and flashing. “Fuck.” My hands jump back to the keyboard, and I set down my game piece before the time for my turn expires. If I’d missed the turn, I would have forfeited the game.

  I don’t like to lose. Makes me surly.

  We go a few more moves, QuikSilver keeping to their bullshit safe strategy. Then, about halfway through the game, their style changes, shifting into that chaotic brilliance I know and love.

  My mouth twists with triumph, savage and bright. Yes, this is what I was searching for. The AI stumbles over the next few moves, confused by the change. I let it make the mistakes because that’s the only way it’ll ever learn.

  QuikSilver slows down, takes their time making their own moves. They must have sensed the change in play and are trying to adjust.

  Two more moves and my AI catches on, making a move that sets up a winning strategy. As long as QuikSilver doesn’t see our intentions and block us.

  I release a low, satisfied breath. I run my tongue along my teeth, already tasting my victory. If I take the next four games, I’ll pull out the bottle of añejo tequila sitting in the bottom drawer of this desk and pour myself a glass. Maybe even convince the good doctor to join me.

  I glance over at her and immediately regret it. She’s got the tip of her tongue tucked into the corner of her mouth, her gaze tight and focused, and my dick goes hard.

  Maybe I’ll take my tequila home and jerk off by myself. Because while I might, might convince her to share a drink with me, she’d laugh in my face if I suggested she come home with me.

  But if I can convince her… How I’d convince her…

  The game timer flashes red at me again. Whoops. Let myself get distracted by her. Again.

  I make the move the AI suggests, then wait. Soon enough I’m caught back up in the rhythms of the game, pulling off the AI’s strategy flawlessly. QuikSilver doesn’t have a clue, and in a few moves, it will all be over.

  And then, at move fifty, it all comes crashing down.

  “Fuck.” I say it so softly I can barely hear myself. I can barely believe what I’m seeing.

  I thought QuikSilver was playing defensively—erratically but defensively—and they never saw the web my AI was spinning for them. But when they set down their piece at move fifty, I see that they’ve had their own web, and my AI and I were both too blind to see it.

  “Son of a bitch.” I whisper it, but by the time I reach the end, it’s bursting out of me. “Son. Of. A. Bitch.”

  A tiny laugh catches my attention. It’s over almost as soon as it starts, but make no mistake—Doc was laughing. Right as I lost that last game.

  Suddenly it all hits me. I might be a genius, but like I said, when it comes to her, I’m a fucking idiot. And I should have figured this out long ago.

  She’s QuikSilver. My nemesis.

  Chapter 2

  “Had fun beating me, huh?”

  At Finn’s question, I go stiff. Oh shit.

  Okay, so yeah, I’ve been stalking him in the Go forums for a while, playing him every chance I get. He’s a great opponent: prone to shortsighted
ness but able to pull off brilliant moves to get out of sticky situations.

  I never let him know that it was me playing him though. He already has a massive ego to go with his massive muscles. And I don’t need to be thinking about that, not with him so close I can touch him, close enough that all I can smell is his soap. It’s piney with a hint of something deeper, darker…

  And there I go again. I take a deep breath and try to lean away, out of his shadow.

  I always forget how big he is. Although he’s reminding me really hard right now, looming over me. After I was dumb enough to laugh, he marched over to my workstation, all aggrieved male ego.

  Poor baby.

  My heart dances into my throat, which is super inconvenient since I need to say something. Only nothing coherent is coming to me.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I can’t make that even a little bit confident, so it falls flatter than a pancake.

  Finn clearly thinks it’s weak too. He’s not even looking at my computer screen, but I can tell from his expression he knows everything. Including about the AI I’ve been using to play against him.

  “I expected better from you.” He sighs, which makes his chest get even bigger. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, and it doesn’t suit you to lie about it.”

  That’s the trouble with Finn—he’s arrogant and infuriating, but he’s never treated me like I’m dumb. Which is rare in the tech world, especially for a man as smart as he is.

  “Okay.” I lift my hands. “I admit it—I’m the one who’s been playing you all this time.” I can’t help my grin, because not only have I been playing him, I’ve been beating him. Often. “Would you like some pointers on your play? Your ability to think long-term is shit. But you already know that.”