Jarred Maloney cracked open one eye, immediately shutting it as the shaft of sun blazed through to his pounding head. His mouth felt like it was filled with cotton, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth something horrid. What the hell happened?

"I see you are awake now."

He cracked open his eyes again, focusing it on the sound of the voice. A very angry voice. It sounded suspiciously like Turner. His best friend did a great angry and broody. Had he passed out at his flat again? Sure enough, Turner was seated in the corner of the room, looking crisp and clean like he always did. Turner was a lawyer and a damn good one, but on occasion he was known to break loose. Jarred had the pictures to prove it. "Hey, Turn," he said, wincing as his voice grated on his own headache.

"Jesus Jarred," Turner said, his words coming out in a heartfelt sigh. "What happened last night?"

Jarred opened his eyes all of the way then, realizing that he wasn't at Turner's flat at all, but a hotel room instead. Well, he thought it was a hotel room. "Will you pull the curtains?" he asked, hoping his voice sounded pleading and pitiful.

Turner chuckled and pointed at the window where the damn light was coming from. "Well if the curtains were still attached to the wall, I could."

Holding up his hand to block the sunlight, Jarred saw that the curtains were dangling from the curtain rod that looked like it was barely attached to the wall itself. Fuck him. How the hell had that happened?

"I assume you had a good time last night," Turner was saying as Jarred rubbed a hand over his face, which still felt numb from the alcohol. "I couldn't understand a word you were saying on your messages."

"I left you messages?"

Turner nodded. "Ten to be exact. Thank God I am smart enough to put the thing on silent or we would be having this discussion hours ago."

"What did I say?"

He shrugged. "Something about crazy women and inviting me to join, what did you call it? Your love den. Bloody hell Jarred, do you not know what you did last night?"

Amused, Jarred went to push himself up in the bed, his hand colliding with something warm. Make that soft and warm. He frowned.

"Oh yeah, you aren't alone either," Turner offered helpfully.

Jarred grinned and looked over, seeing two women snuggled up to each other. A blonde and a brunette, two of his favorites. Well, all women were his favorites. Tall, short, slim, athletic, curvy. Too bad he couldn't remember a damn thing that happened last night. "I take it from your pinched face you didn't join?" Jarred asked, looking over at Turner.

Turner arched a brow, looking nothing like the bloke who had drunkenly climbed the London Bridge in the middle of the night and pissed off the side to prove that he could. Jarred had the pictures to prove that as well. But, that was before Uni, when Turner got all serious. Jarred had never understood Turner's change. After all, life was about living, right? "I'll pass," he finally said, looking down at his watch. "You're going to be late for your appointment."

"Isn't my appointment with you?" Jarred grumbled, taking one long look at the women beside him. Was his mate really going to make him abandon this bed for him?

"You're still late."

Fuck. Apparently so. With a sigh, Jarred pulled back the covers and stood, the room spinning around him violently. Bile rose up in his throat and he forced it back down. Jarred wasn't going to throw up in front of Turner, again. If he did, he would never hear the end of it. Not like Jarred was going to hear the end of this.

Naked, he looked around the room to get his mind off of the elephants doing salsa in his head and the tornado that had taken up residence in his gut. That was a hole in the wall, looking suspiciously like someone had been pushed hard against it. A flash of memory intruded on the dancing elephants. Him, with the brunette wrapped around his waist, shagging her hard, up against the wall.

Bottles littered the floor, various kinds of liquor and beer that he enjoyed from time to time. Clothes were strewn all over the floor and Jarred bent down to pick up his pants. He felt like shit and Turner was dragging his ass out of the bed. What sense did that make? More importantly, why was he allowing Turner to boss him around?

Oh yeah, he was the one that made sure Jarred got his trust fund checks monthly to keep this lifestyle up.

"Are you just going to stand there with your knob out all day or are you actually going to get dressed?"

Jarred shot him a wry smile as he thrust his legs in his jeans, buttoning them before hunting for his shirt. "What's so important that we need to talk about anyway?"

Turner pushed himself out of the chair and smoothed out his dress pants, shaking out any wrinkles that might have occurred before grabbing his suit coat. "I already told you; I want to discuss it at the office."

Jarred shook his head, the alcohol that he imbibed the night before sloshing around in his stomach uncomfortably. When Turner had called him the other day and said he had something important to discuss, Jarred had wondered why he wouldn't just tell him then. He still didn't understand why Turner was being so secretive about this entire conversation, but it was obvious he wasn't going to breathe a word of it until they were sitting downtown.

One of the women in the bed stirred and Jarred looked back, taking in the creamy expanse of her back in the process. Turner was being an ass this morning making him leave like this. There were still hours of fun in that bed and Turner was being stupid to not want some of that action. With reluctance, Jarred got dressed and Turner walked him downstairs, allowing him to stop off to grab a cup of coffee in the process to counter the effects of the alcohol. When they walked outside, a chill hung in the air, tearing through the thin material of Jarred's dress shirt. The weather was starting to turn now, the days growing shorter and the temperature a far cry from the warmth of the summer. Jarred glanced around, recognizing some of the landmarks, though he still didn't know how he had ended up over here in East London. A few blocks to the left was the O2 Arena. The hotel was one on the fringes of the city, one that wasn't particularly frequented by the wealthy of London. But it was near some of the clubs he enjoyed, which only made sense that he would go there instead of his own flat. One of his rules since Susan left, was never take anyone back to his flat.

"Aw man," Jarred said as they approached Turner's car. "You couldn't drive the Porsche at least?"

Turner looked at him over the roof of his four door sedan, a frown on his face. "You know I don't drive that car."

"Yeah, yeah," Jarred grumbled, grabbing the passenger side door handle and yanking it open. "Just because your father gave it to you doesn't mean you don't have to drive it. I mean, this is a chick car and not in a good way." Turner's father was a real estate mogul who had built a veritable empire in Europe. Turner was his only son and for the love of Christ, Jarred couldn't understand why Turner hated the fact that his father was filthy rich.

The two of them had met as boys in school, both the products of wealthy men who expected their sons to follow in their footsteps. They'd had many a scrape and narrow escape throughout the years and though Jarred gave Turner a hard time, he loved his mate. As far as he was concerned, they were family.

"Just shut up and get in," Turner said as he climbed in the driver's seat. Jarred climbed in the car and they were off, heading toward downtown where Turner's office was located. Jarred leaned back on the seat and sipped his coffee, his head pounding behind his eyeballs. He enjoyed a good time and apparently had one of the best last night, even if he couldn't remember it. Is it still a good time if you're trying to numb out the pain? He shoved that thought aside.

"You can't keep doing this, J," Turner said after a few moments, his voice breaking the silence in the car. "You have to straighten yourself out. Go to work. Find a hobby. Something."

Jarred grinned. "I have one."

"Getting arse faced on a nightly basis is not a hobby."

"It could be," Jarred retorted, draining the rest of his coffee before placing the cup in the holder on the console. Hell, he'd made it a hobby over the last few years. He was known in the social scene, never turned away from a party and though his father hated the fact that his son was a loser in his eyes, at least his son hadn't landed in jail yet.

"Come on Jarred," Turner said as he pulled his car into the parking garage connected to the office building. "Surely there's something you want to do with your life."

"Oh, you mean like you?" Jarred asked with a harsh laugh. Turner had sold out for the working man's life, a life Jarred couldn't understand. "Forgive me if I don't want to work my ass off for the middle man."

"Sod off," Turner muttered as he parked the car. "I keep your ass out of a sling. Remember that."

Jarred grinned and climbed out of the car, following Turner into the lift that would lead them to Turner's firm office. "And I pay you very well to do so."

Turner let out a bark of laughter. "You pay me nothing. Your father pays my legal bills."

Jarred shrugged. "Same thing." After all, it was all to be his once the old man kicked the bucket. What he was going to do with it when that time came, he didn't know.

The lift doors opened and a long legged blonde entered the lift, giving them both a once over before she turned around. Jarred took in her toned body encased in a suit appreciatively before looking over at Turner, nodding toward her. Turner's head nearly fell off of his shoulders as he shook it vehemently, his eyes warning Jarred not to do what he already knew was coming. It was time for a bit of fun this morning. Jarred gave Turner a quick grin and tapped her on her shoulder, a cloud of expensive perfume filling his nostrils as she turned around. "Yes?" she asked, an amused smile on her face.

"I'm sorry to bother you," Jarred started out, "but my friend here, he needs to get laid and quick."

Her eyes widened as she looked over at Turner, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here for the moment. "Is that right?"

"Desperate," Jarred added, giving her a knowing look and nearly unable to contain his laughter. "You would be doing him a favor."

"He's not, don't listen to him," Turner finally forced out, coming out in a choked laugh. "He's mentally unstable."

"Unstable," Jarred said. "But still able to get laid."

The doors opened and she bailed out, her heels clicking hard on the polished wood floor as she hurried away. Jarred waited until the doors closed again before he burst into laughter, Turner socking him hard on the shoulder with his fist. "Please don't try to do me any favors. Bloody hell, she will never speak to me again."

"I think she was thinking about it until you threw out the whole mental instability piece," Jarred answered, shoving his hands in his pockets. "You do need to get laid Turner. That necktie has gotten too tight around your neck."

"Bugger off," he said as the doors opened again and he walked out, his fists balled at his sides.

"Payback's a bitch," Jarred reminded him as he followed his friend, winking at the receptionist as they entered Turner's domain. "Come on Turner, I'm only trying to help."

"Sit down, Jarred."

Jarred sat down in one of the comfortable leather chairs in front of Turner's large oak desk, resisting the urge to prop his feet up on it. He'd already pushed his friend enough and it wasn't even ten in the morning. "What's up? What's so important?"

Turner rested his elbows on the desk, his expression suddenly serious. "It's about your trust fund Jarred."

Jarred groaned. "Don't tell me that he wants to cut it back again. He's already tried that route." His father had attempted to cut the money in half a few months ago in an effort to rile him up and it had worked, just not in the way that he wanted it to happen. Instead, Jarred had racked up tabs all over London in his father's name and as a result, Harrison Maloney had been driven so crazy by the amount of collectors wanting their money that he'd restored the amount without a word. Jarred had proven a point to him that day, one that he thought his father wouldn't forget anytime soon.

"He's cutting you off totally."

Jarred's grin slid from his face. "What did you say?"

Turner sighed, looking weary all of a sudden. "I'm sorry Jarred. He's cutting the money at the end of the month. I've been instructed to drop the account effective immediately."

Jarred rose from his chair, pushing it hard until it toppled over on the floor with a loud thud. The sound sliced through his pounding head but he didn't care. "Cut me off?" Jarred was his son, his sole heir. "He can't do that."

"He already has," Turner replied softly.

Jarred looked at him, panic and rage flowing in his blood. No way in hell he was going to let his father do this.