Total pages in book: 176
Estimated words: 167257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 836(@200wpm)___ 669(@250wpm)___ 558(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 167257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 836(@200wpm)___ 669(@250wpm)___ 558(@300wpm)
What were the odds that in the four days since I arrived in Idlewild, I’d managed to attract not one but two total alphaholes?
I snuck into Pride of Kings a little early Monday morning as if thirty minutes could possibly make up for missing my entire shift on Saturday. I waved hello to Tuesday, who glared at me before I said fuck it and slipped inside the bathroom. I was only delaying the inevitable, but I needed a moment to collect myself.
It was only one shift.
My first offense.
It’s fine.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror until the worry in my eyes changed into an emotion I could harness. My phone chimed, so I snatched it from the counter and smiled when I saw it was an email from Dr. Saunders, my psych professor.
Good morning, Atlas.
I was surprised not to see you in my class last week, and then I received notice this morning that you dropped my class.
Is everything okay?
I hope I didn’t do anything to make you uncomfortable. Please know I’m here for you if you need to talk.
—SS
Dr. Saunders had become a mentor and big sister over the last few months, and in my darkest hour, she’d been the only constant in my corner. She wasn’t stuffy like the other professors, so her classes were popular, even among non-psych majors.
After my dad died, she’d even given me her personal email, and though it violated multiple school policies, she assured me I could use it whenever I needed. That was just how cool she was.
Smiling still, I clicked reply.
Boom!
The bathroom door burst open and hit the wall.
Screaming, I dropped my phone in the sink, my professor’s email forgotten as I watched the door bounce off the wall from the force of impact. From this angle, I couldn’t see much through the mirror’s reflection, but I saw clear as day the tattooed hand that caught it.
It was large and bore a familiar snarling lion.
No.
God, you sadistic fuck, I’ll answer to any of them—Joren, Roc, Golden—anyone else.
Anyone but him.
“How the fuck you just started this damn job and you already missing shifts?”
I spun around to find Rowdy wearing the fiercest scowl I’d ever seen on anyone as he held open the door, which now had a large footprint on the paint.
This crazy fool must have kicked it in.
My legs wobbled, so I held onto the sink to keep me standing while my voice, thank fuck, kept up the ruse, sharpening into cold steel.
“Are you blind?” When he just stared at me, I added, “Did you not notice this was the women’s bathroom?”
“Does it look like I give a fuck?”
No.
Rowdy looked like he wanted to strangle me.
“My office, Atlas. Now.” He was gone as quickly as he had arrived, the door swinging ominously shut behind him.
I exhaled slowly and debated taking my time before rescuing my phone from the sink and leaving the bathroom. If I was going to be fired, there was no point in trying to get under his skin. I’d probably never see him again after today.
I ignored my stomach, which revolted at the thought as I trudged up the stairs like I was heading to my execution.
When I reached his office door, I politely knocked even though I knew he was expecting me. I could practically feel the toxic male dominance vibrating off him from here.
“Get your ass in here,” he called from the other side.
I rolled my eyes to the ceiling, feeling my faux locs sweeping my ass as I let my head fall back. God? I silently prayed. About what I said before…you know I was kidding, right?
Opening the door, I slipped inside and immediately looked around.
I hated to admit it, even to myself, but I was impressed.
Rowdy’s office was simple. Functional. It wasn’t overly flashy, as if he had a point to prove. To be in his presence was to know who was in charge. He didn’t decorate with a bunch of unnecessary trimmings. His office only had the necessities while being clean and smelling even better—much like the man himself.
Right now, my fuming boss was sitting at his desk, watching me look around and mean-mugging me from across the room. Behind him loomed a black wooden bookcase that had been built into the wall with an honest-to-God AK-47 mounted over the middle shelf. It was conveniently reachable among the framed photos, spare car parts, awards, rusted teal tackle box, and even a few worn books scattered along the other shelves.
“Close the door.”
I did what he ordered before crossing the room and standing in front of his desk like a good little employee ready for correction.
If only my knees would get on board.
They were currently shaking like twigs in a category five hurricane, and no mantra I recited would ease them. I’d seen firsthand how my boss handled those who crossed him, and I wanted no part of it.