Bleeding Hearts Read online A. Zavarelli (Bleeding Hearts #1-2)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Billionaire, Dark, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Bleeding Hearts Series by A. Zavarelli
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Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 162003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 810(@200wpm)___ 648(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
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When he came, it was with a long and ragged groan. The difference in his posture was obvious, and my heart skipped a beat knowing I had the power to ease his tension.

“Come up here.” He patted his lap.

I climbed into his lap and relaxed in his arms while he stroked my back and kissed my neck.

“You look tired,” I murmured against him.

“That’s because I am, baby girl.”

The ocean between us grew smaller by the moment, and when my eyes locked with his, I was afraid of what that meant for me. For my heart that I was supposed to be keeping out of this.

I reached up to clasp his face in mine while I stared into his eyes.

“Still mad at me?”

He blew out a breath and clutched me tighter. “I don’t like to worry about you.”

“Am I in danger?” I asked.

Ryland stiffened beneath me. “Why would you ask that?”

“Because last week, you said you thought I was dead. And the rule about my safety. Is there something I should know?”

He dropped his gaze and shook his head.

“No, you’re not in danger.”

His voice held conviction, but there was something else there too. And if I wasn’t in danger, I couldn’t understand his reaction. Why he’d immediately assumed I was dead when I’d gone missing for a few hours. If it were any other time, I might have pushed the issue, but we were already on shaky ground.

“Stay the weekend with me,” he said.

I didn’t know if I had a choice or not, but either way, I nodded my assent.

“I have to go to my apartment to get my things.”

He picked me up and set me on my feet. “I’ll buy you whatever you need on the way.”

“I don’t want you to buy me anything,” I argued. “I have everything I need at my apartment.”

He gave me a look that told me it was not up for discussion as he threaded his fingers through mine and led me from the office.

***

It was ten minutes past eight, and the store was now officially closed. The retail assistant kept giving me dirty looks while Ryland typed away on his phone. Yet, she’d insisted she was more than happy to keep the store open late for him.

I glanced at another price tag and frowned.

“Ryland,” I whispered.

He blinked up at me as though he couldn’t possibly understand what the problem was.

“I can’t buy anything here. This is crazy.”

This little statement earned me another scowl from pouty Patricia with her perfect hair and tailored skirt suit.

It wasn’t that I didn’t like the clothing. I’d dreamed of nothing but wearing this kind of clothing for as long as I could remember. It was why I collected every fashion magazine I could ever afford with my meager income. It was the reason I learned to sew. I wanted to design my own creations and have something great instead of another bargain bin special. But allowing someone else to buy me these kinds of garments made me feel cheap somehow.

Ryland simply grunted at my statement as he pulled me into his side and barked off his orders to Patricia.

“She needs an assortment of clothing to last the weekend. Size eight. Makeup, bath products, whatever else women usually need. And shoes. Can you handle that, Patricia, within the next ten minutes?”

“Of course.” She gave him a feline smile. “I’d be delighted, Mr. Bennett.”

“Thank you.” He nodded, forking over his shiny black credit card. “We’ll wait up the front.”

Patricia was punctual, I had to give her that. She arrived exactly nine minutes later, loaded down with three other shop assistants and more bags than I could count.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked at the ground as Ryland signed off on the whole transaction. I couldn’t see that amount and still look at my face in the mirror every day, so I chose to pretend it wasn’t happening.

Once we were back out on the curb, I climbed into the black Jaguar he’d driven us in. I didn’t know much about cars, but this one was all sleek lines and quiet power. It had a beauty that snuck up on you unexpectedly, and you could tell Ryland was proud of it as he cruised through the streets of San Francisco. He’d mentioned that this model was completely customized for him, and it was the only one in the world like it.

When I asked him how he managed to acquire it, he gave me a wolfish smile that smacked of sarcasm for two reasons. One, he’d never tell me, and two, I should have been smart enough not to ask in the first place.

I sank into the buttery soft seats and observed the flashing lights pass us by as we edged towards the sea. The experience couldn’t be dulled. At least now I could say I’d ridden in a luxury sport’s car with one of the worlds’ one percenters. My mother would choke on her cigarette if she saw me now.


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