Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67757 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67757 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
“I do not!” My cheeks flush, betraying me.
“It’s all right to like someone who’s different than you, Aria. Especially when he looks like Lucky.” Frannie fans herself dramatically, falling back against my pillows with a sigh. “No one says you have to put a ring on it.”
“As if,” I snort. “He’s hot in a rough and tumble kind of way, but I wouldn’t…I mean…” My words trail off because I don’t know how to finish that thought.
“You wouldn’t hop on that motorcycle and ride off into the proverbial sunset, experiencing pleasure beyond your wildest dreams?” Frannie teases, feigning concern as she touches my forehead. “Are you all right? Did you hit your head?”
“Funny,” I swat her hand away.
“I’m serious! He might not be your type, and he might be trouble, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s drop-dead gorgeous.” Frannie’s expression turns serious. “Not to mention that he’s here to protect you in case things get dangerous. That’s really hot, Aria, and you can’t deny that.”
“Fine,” I grumble. “He’s hot, okay? Really fucking hot.” I can’t lie to Frannie. She knows me too well.
Truth is, she’s my best friend and the only person in the house close to my age, and the only one who ever really tries to understand me. Frannie never lets my sometimes bitchy ways bother her. Most of the time, she finds it funny and then calls me out on it. It’s refreshing.
“Hot enough to shed those designer duds and show him what’s up?” Frannie asks, her eyes twinkling.
I roll my eyes. “You’ve got a one-track mind, girl!”
“Damn right I do, and I’m counting on you, my dear friend, to let me live vicariously through your hot affair with the biker, so please, don’t let me down.”
“Not happening, Frannie. You better find your own sizzling romance.”
As much as I would love to find the right guy, I think he’s a figment of my imagination.
“Things with Chase kind of ruined dating for me. That asshole totally pissed me off. Then Caveman Biker came to rescue me. Seriously?”
“Who said anything about dating? I’m talking about getting down and dirty, girl.”
Frannie bumps my shoulder playfully, drawing a full-body laugh from me.
“That does sound tempting,” I admit reluctantly. “But my life is kind of a mess right now, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“Believe me, we’ve all noticed. I think a torrid love affair is just the distraction you need. Have you heard anything about your dad yet?”
“No,” I sigh and shake my head. “I haven’t heard a word from Daddy, and frankly, I’m not all that surprised.”
I’ve always been an afterthought to him, so there’s no reason things would change now.
A knock on the door interrupts our conversation, and I brace myself for Lucky, but it’s Beatrice, the head housekeeper. “Frannie,” she snaps. “Time to get back to work.”
Coco barks at the stern woman, and this time I don’t have the heart to tell him to stop.
Beatrice glares down at the dog, shaking her head. “Keep it up, and I’ll put you to work as well.”
From the look on her face, I think she means it, but at least she shut Coco up, but only long enough for Frannie to hug me and return to work.
Once again, I’m alone, and since I’m avoiding Lucky, I stay in my room for most of the day. To some, it might seem like I’m hiding, but the truth is, it’s self-preservation.
I am not attracted to a hot biker with face tattoos—nope. He’s not my type, even if I do find him slightly irresistible.
Nope, not my type at all.
And I’ll keep telling myself that until I believe it.
CHAPTER NINE
Lucky
There’s a lot of shit that rich people buy just because they have money to burn, like fancy dishes they never use, cars that spend more time in a garage than on the road and don’t even get me started on clothes.
But the one expense I can get behind is a fucking waterfall showerhead. This shit is incredible. First of all, who the fuck even knew a tw0 headed shower was even a thing?
Not me.
But the pressure is perfect, the digital temperature is set to one hundred degrees, and the organic coconut body wash is an entire fucking experience.
I hardly want to get out of the shower with the glass walls, but in my head, I can hear my Greek grandma telling me to stop wasting water, so I shut off the shower and step out.
“Goddammit!” The little yapping fucker Coco, who has grown on me, is sitting beside the white bathmat, which he just pissed all over. “Aren’t you house-trained?”
I swear the little fucker smiles up at me and gives me one bark as if to say yes, I am house trained when I want to be.
“You’re as spoiled as your owner,” I grumble and wrap the fluffy white towel around my waist. Even the fucking towels are different in this world. If you’d asked me last month about bath towels, I would have said I have too much shit going on to think about them, but now I know—quality towels are the way to go.