Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
I stepped inside the tiny office, beige carpets and cream walls, then halted.
My jaw didn’t drop. I didn’t let any sign of shock show in my expression, but tension seeped down my spine.
Riley sat behind a distressed oak desk, her hair tied up in a messy bun atop her head, a couple strands escaping to frame her face. Those brown, hazel-flecked eyes widened. She had no compunctions about showing her emotions.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I think you know,” I said and shut the door behind me. “In fact, I’m sure you know. You didn’t tell me yesterday you own this place.”
“Was I obligated to?” she asked, but a flicker of guilt came and went, wrinkling that normally smooth brow.
Christ, it smelled strongly of lavender and vanilla in here. Did she just give it off? It was an insane smell, so thick, but light. Memories of last night, my name on her lips, the ecstasy of coming for her, stalled me.
“If you’re here to discuss purchasing my establishment, I’m afraid you’re out of luck.”
I strode two steps to the tattered seat in front of her desk and gripped the back of it, a half-smile twisting the corner of my mouth. “That so?”
“That’s so.”
“I beg to differ,” I replied. “See, you’re obviously caught in a spot of financial trouble, Riley—”
“Miss Robinson,” she said.
I chuckled. “You’re sleeping in your studio, or you were until last night, and now, you’re sleeping in my apartment. I know you’re struggling. Let me buy this place and get rid of it for you. Get rid of the burden. Imagine what you could do with that money.”
“I won’t.”
“Why, got no imagination? Didn’t read when you were a kid?” I asked.
“I’m struggling to picture you reading,” she replied. “Those in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”
“You could start your own practice with that money,” I said. “Become a therapist. Or you could open up another studio.”
“No.” Riley’s firm tone turned me on.
Fuck, she was so sexy when she spoke like that. So sure of herself and what she wanted. Funny thing was, she was sexy when she spoke like a machine gun too. Nerves and confidence all twined into one. I couldn’t understand it.
“I’ll pay you above market it for it.” The words popped out before I could stop them, and damn, that was truly shocking. I didn’t give people good deals. I was fair, yeah, but I didn’t screw myself.
Except for last night.
“No,” she repeated. “I’m not selling this studio. I bought it. I paid my dues, and I’ll make this business work. That’s all there is to it.”
Frustration bubbled in my gut. The solution was so simple. If she took my money, she could start a new life for herself. Whatever problems haunted her would disappear. She’d have access to money now instead of in thirty days. “Why?” I asked. “Why not sell when it could help you out, Riley? Why so damn stubborn?”
“It’s—There’s more to it than that,” she replied. “This studio once belonged to my great aunt.”
“OK?”
“She was the only one in my family who supported my dancing career. The others pretty much scoffed at me when I told them I wanted to own a studio, run it, and share my passion.”
“So she left this to you?” I asked.
“No, she died suddenly and hadn’t paid the loans on this place. It was a while before I could get my hands on it, and now that I have it, I’m not letting it go. It’s not just sentimental value, King, this is the perfect spot for me. Right across from a fitness center, a health restaurant. It’s central and—”
“That’s exactly why I want it,” I replied, a smirk tweaking the corner of my mouth. “Prime real estate. A game changer.”
“You really think a strip club will fit in here?”
I didn’t rise to her bait. “I think,” I said, “when I want something I get it, and that selling this place to me will solve all your problems.”
Is that really what you want? If you get the business, she’ll have no reason to stay in your apartment. The apartment I usually didn’t sleep in. But I couldn’t think of any place I’d rather be tonight. No hotel, no trip to another city.
Riley’s business—fuck, Riley herself—was my new obsession. And once I cultivated an obsession, I had to fulfill it.
“We’ll discuss this over dinner,” I said and checked my watch. It was past seven, and the purple dusk had already set outside her office window, lavender like her scent. Miami was beautiful at this hour, on the outside at least. Inside my strip clubs, the men had arrived. They sat in the smoke and haze of lust and watched women dance, twirl, shake their asses, all while their wives and girlfriends waited at home.
I’d never understood it, but goddamn if I didn’t capitalize on it.