Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 35281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
Fifteen minutes on the dot, Ronan pushes into the room with a concerned Owen at his side. When Owen sees my panicked face, his eyes dart to Cassidy.
“Oh,” Cassidy says, “are we, like, going to have an orgy? I’m into it, I just wasn’t expecting it.”
Ronan flashes her a boardroom shark smile as he pulls out a folded piece of paper from his pocket. I normally hate his stiff suit attire, but right now, he looks powerful and intimidating—which is exactly what I need from him.
“Sorry, Ms…” he trails off.
“Cassidy Holder.”
Ronan pulls out a pen from his pocket and leans the paper against the wall as he scribbles something out. “This, Cassidy Holder, is a nondisclosure agreement. It’s a simple document that says you are not to tell anything about what happens inside Mr. Jacobs’ bedroom. Conversations, sexual activities, songs. Whatever happens is to be kept under lock and key. Are we clear?”
Her face turns red. “What’s going to happen?”
Owen shoots me a confused look.
“Nothing is going to happen,” Ronan assures her. “Because you’re going to sign this and rejoin the party.”
“But why?” she asks, her bottom lip wobbling. “What did I do wrong?”
“Nothing,” I say, shooting her a firm look.
“Some people like to exploit famous people,” Ronan says bluntly. “But not you, Ms. Holder.”
“Never,” she breathes, shaking her head.
“Then you’ll be fine signing.” He hands her the pen and paper. “Go on, read it. It’s very clear and concise.”
She takes her time reading the document, then looks up at him. “I’ll be sued if I mention anything?” Her blue eyes flicker to mine, hurt shining in them. I feel like a fucking dick, but I don’t want this shit out there.
“I see you understand the agreement,” Ronan says.
“I guess I don’t have a choice,” she grumbles, scribbling her name on the line.
“You have a choice to forget this evening and enjoy the party,” Ronan replies in a no-nonsense tone. “That simple.”
She nods and gives me a sad look. “I still don’t know what I did wrong.”
“Nothing, sweetheart,” Owen says, smiling. “Why don’t we go back downstairs and I’ll play a song for you? Your choice.”
Her eyes light up. “Okay, that sounds awesome.” She glances at me. “I just need my phone.”
Ronan lifts a brow, silently asking if it’s okay. I give him a clipped nod before handing it to her.
My mouth opens to apologize, but he shakes his head at me. Owen grabs her hand and leads her out of the room. The moment the door closes behind them, I let out a sigh of relief.
“Come here,” he orders, his voice dripping with authority like Blaine’s.
Heat of embarrassment or shame prickles across my skin, making me aware that I’m in the room with Blaine’s best friend.
“What?” I ask, my voice husky.
“Blaine told me about last night.”
My face flames, and I scowl. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
Ronan approaches, his face inches from mine as he inspects me with that calculating glint in his eyes. “The part where he rescued you from yourself.”
“And what else?”
His lips quirk up on one side. “There was more? He certainly didn’t tell me anything else. Blaine has certain kinks, though. So there’s always more with him. Don’t worry,” he assures me. “You don’t need an NDA with him. He’s a fucking vault with his boys.”
His boys?
My dick—the traitorous motherfucker—wakes up, hard and eager to be a good boy for Blaine. I’ve never wanted to be fucking good. What the fuck?
“I am not with Blaine,” I croak out, hating how vulnerable my voice sounds.
“Oh, I know,” Ronan says. “You haven’t been broken in yet. Still acting out and misbehaving. If you were with Blaine, he’d sort your shit out real quick.”
I want to demand he tell me how.
How will Blaine straighten me out?
Why do I want him to?
“I…I…” I trail off, grasping for an explanation.
Ronan smiles. “You need a vacation, like he says. Come on. I’ll drop you by your house so you can pack a bag. Blaine’s coming for you. I’ve been instructed to get you ready.”
My head spins. “W-What? I have shit to do. You know this. I can’t go on a vacation!” Not with fucking Blaine, of all people.
“I’ll have Eve rearrange your schedule. Don’t fight me on this. You won’t win.”
Evil bastard’s trying to control my goddamn life.
His features soften, and he grips my shoulder. “I’m on your side, Xavi. I wish you’d get that through your thick skull.”
I blink at him in confusion. We’ve done nothing but fight since I signed with him. I hate how much control I gave him. Creatively, schedule wise, monetarily. He’d done what he did with Cassidy and waved a contract at us. We’d been star-struck and eager. But, as time passed, I realized I wanted more wiggle room, to which he firmly told me no each time.