Preacher’s Daughter Read online Dani Wyatt

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 34532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 173(@200wpm)___ 138(@250wpm)___ 115(@300wpm)
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Only, she could never adapt to the ways of the community. I remember the arguments over things she was expected to do—and things she was expected not to do—and then one day, she was just gone. No note, nothing. And my father’s heart was never the same.

Neither was mine.

Panic grips my throat as I hold the check in my hands. Greed is another sin, and if I accepted this check, I’m sure it would be just another reason for Papa to tell me I’ve got the devil inside of me.

Ash sits up straight, his fingers toying with the knot in his deep-blue silk tie as he considers my comment before speaking. “It’s yours already. It’s not an accept or decline offer, Anastasia. The money does not belong to anyone but you.”

Blood is rushing through my ears, and I’m so hot I feel sweat trickling down my spine. When Ash speaks again, I’m so lost in my own thoughts, I jump.

“You deserve that and more. So much more.” When he reaches across the table, and his hand tops mine, something inside me snaps at the power of that simple touch, and I nearly drop the tiny, powerful piece of paper clutched between my fingertips.

“I’m sorry. Excuse me. I need the ladies room—” I reach down and grab my backpack, stumbling from the table across the common area and into the restroom, close to hyperventilating.

When he touched me, a shiver of something wicked overtook me. The feeling centered low, in-between my legs. And all I could hear was Papa’s voice telling me that saving myself for my match is the only way. He would disown me if I ever—

I’m the preacher’s daughter after all. I represent Papa. I can’t disappoint him.

“Please!” I plead to the ceiling in the women’s bathroom. “Help me.”

I look at the mirror and see my own wild eyes staring back. There’s a pink to my face I’ve never seen before, and shame rips through me. When I close my eyes, all I see is Papa’s face.

I make my way through the restroom to the other entry door that leads to the main hall outside the common room. Pushing the door open just enough to get my head out and make sure Ash and his two monsters can’t see me. When I see the coast is clear, I run.

Run until my lungs burn.

Run until I’m at my pickup, fumbling with the key at the ignition and turn it hard. The engine struggles, then turns over and before I pull away, I realize in my other hand, I’m still holding the check.

I look at the crumpled piece of light blue paper and the black-inked cursive writing.

Pay to the order of: Anastasia Snow

Amount: One million, two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.

I pray for forgiveness the entire drive home.

I’ve disrespected my father by lying.

I’ve been prideful in showing off on my videos.

I’ve lusted after a man I don’t even know.

I’ve thrilled at the possibility of taking an absurd amount of money.

I stop at a gas station and change back into my common clothes trying to stay focused on the life that has chosen me. The life of righteousness and humility.

By the time I pull up at the house, I’ve prayed every way I know how and a few I’ve made up.

What remains is that throbbing between my legs and a sense that no amount of prayer will ease the devil that Ash Thompson has awoken inside of me.

F I V E

Ash

“THERE HE IS,” I MUTTER under my breath as I speed my steps down the hall.

Luck seems to be in my favor as Cameron turns, fisting his hands on his hips when he sees me walking toward him.

After a long sleepless night, I’m pulling out all the stops to find Anastasia again after she ditched me in the college coffee shop yesterday.

We drove this little town until the wheels practically fell off the limo. And here’s the thing: there is no Anastasia Snow. That has become very clear. I called in some favors to do some borderline illegal digging into that name, and no one with that name is my girl.

My body is so fucking tense I could repel bullets.

When I’m within speaking distance of Cameron, I do what I can to keep my voice steady. “I need to find her. I know her name is not Anastasia Snow. It’s important.”

“Oh, okay. Sure, Mr. Ash Thompson. Let me just give you all the personal information on my friend so you can go track her down.” Sarcasm drips from each word, then he shifts his hips and glares at me. “Not. Gonna. Happen.”

Despite frustration ripping through me like a drug, I respect him for not giving up information that could be dangerous for her, so I take a different route.

“Look, I’m trying to help her. I think she has talent. Can you help me get in touch with her?” I struggle to maintain my calm.


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