Claimed by The Detective Read Online Flora Ferrari

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Insta-Love Tags Authors:
Advertisement1

Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 43118 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 216(@200wpm)___ 172(@250wpm)___ 144(@300wpm)
<<<<123451323>46
Advertisement2


And, I have a feeling, without even having her turn around and lift the back of her coat, that she must have the most glorious, round ass I’ve ever seen.

And that’s without even getting to her face. She has a round, heart-shaped face and the biggest eyes I've ever seen, and cute, pouty lips that are just begging to be kissed. Long blonde hair up high in a ponytail above it all gives her a youthful look.

I feel like that face just imprinted itself on my heart in a snapshot that is never going to fade. That snapshot might be all I ever have because she turns around and runs from me as I’m thinking all of this.

CHAPTER THREE

Jenna

I can’t believe that just happened.

I thought I was heading for one of the worst moments of my life. Facing that group of boys throwing food into my face, maybe worse.

Who knows what they were willing to do to me if they caught up with me? All I knew was that I was bracing myself to carry mental scars that were going to take a long time to fade.

And just like that, they scattered in the face of my knight in shining armor, who actually came in the form of a handsome older man in a suit.

Did I say handsome? Because maybe gorgeous is more appropriate. He’s the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen, like something out of a movie. The kind of man you think can’t possibly be real or exist outside of the confines of Hollywood.

He’s perfect.

He’s dressed sharp, too, like something out of a noir film. I feel like I must be on some hidden camera TV show because there’s no way someone like that would come to my rescue.

Or maybe he’s famous and trying to do his good deed of the week that will go viral and earn him lots of points with his fans.

The only thing is, once the boys who were tormenting me ran off, and I knew I was safe again – I realized I just went through one of the most embarrassing moments of my life.

And this god-like man was there to witness it.

Which makes me just want to shrivel up and die even more than the attack did.

I can’t stand here and talk to him. I can’t look at him. I can’t let him look at me for a single second more.

I have to get out of here.

Now that the way is no longer blocked, I know exactly what to do. I turn to the side and start to run, heading for the opposite side of the road, running as fast as I can.

Maybe if I run fast enough, I can outrun the truth and forget the memory.

Only I know I can’t run that fast. I’m carrying too much extra weight, and for the second time today, I feel myself regretting and resenting something that normally doesn’t bother me one little bit.

That’s probably why, even though I’m running as fast as I can and quickly out of breath, it’s not long before I hear him calling out something right behind me again.

When I don’t stop and turn, he suddenly appears in front of me, easily running faster than me as if it’s nothing.

I guess, to him, it probably is. He looks like he’s in shape. And even the fact that he’s wearing a nicely tailored dark suit doesn’t appear to make a difference.

“Hey,” he says, as I finally admit defeat and slow to a stop. “Don’t run away. Are you alright?”

I hang my bright-red face, panting for breath. Great. One more indignity. He seems completely unflustered, and I can’t breathe. “I’m fine,” I manage to say, refusing to look at him at all.

“Are you sure?” he asks, and in my peripheral vision, I get the feeling he’s trying to duck his head to catch my eye – but I won’t look.

I can’t. I won’t do it. It’s too much.

He saw me getting picked on and having bread thrown at me by a bunch of boys calling me fat. Then he saw just how unfit I was when I tried to run away from him. Now he’s being kind, too, and I just can’t bear it.

“I need to go,” I say, almost whimpering. I don’t think I can stand here for another moment without crying.

“Wait,” he says. “At least take my number. I know you feel awful right now, but if you want to press charges on those boys later, you’ll need the camera footage. I’ll be here if you want it, and I’ll make sure it doesn’t get deleted.”

He’s holding out a piece of paper that looks like a business card.

I wouldn’t know because I can’t see properly through my tear-filled eyes.

Under any other circumstance, the idea of this gorgeous man handing me his number for any reason would thrill me. It would fill me with butterflies and leave me a stuttering, blushing wreck.


Advertisement3

<<<<123451323>46

Advertisement4