Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 102184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Her curiosity intrigues me. It’s been a long time since anything has interested me.
My mind travels down a dark path, and I’m not sure I could turn around even if I wanted to.
“Would your boyfriend watch while I touched you?” I’m seriously crossing a line with her, but I can’t help myself. God, what’s wrong with me? “Hypothetically.” Nothing wrong with the hypothetical. Not like it’s ever going to happen.
I’d never allow it.
She stares at me like I’ve slapped her, but there’s still a questioning look deep in her eyes. Like she’s fucking picturing it. This thought makes my dick hard instantly.
I’m not into watching others, or being watched, but the way her eyes glow with a wistful wonder right now would make me seriously consider it.
“Hypothetically speaking, I don’t think he likes to share.”
She stares at me for one long second. A million things can happen in a second. A baby takes its first breath. Someone can take their last. You could lose someone you never thought you would. Or you can fall.
“I should get back to work,” she whispers.
I nod. “I think you should.”
Fuck, what just happened?
My Bugatti sports car is one of the fastest in the world. It can go from zero to sixty in two point four seconds, and yet I’ve never driven her at top speeds. However, right now, I need to escape.
There’s a war going on at Club Greed, and I don’t even know who I’m fighting. Battles where the enemy stays hidden are the worst kind. Like a sniper in the brush, ready to take you out when you least expect it.
But I won’t go down without a fight.
I focus on the winding road by the coast, topping out around ninety miles per hour, not really sure what to even make of the whole situation.
There’s a ball of tension knotted between my shoulder blades and a fire burning low in the pit of my belly.
I’m like she said, overstressed.
Overworked.
Tired.
Yet, I can’t stop or I’ll lose everything.
Everything about Club Greed is perfect.
Except for the motherfucker who’s waged a war.
I press on the accelerator, speeding up slightly. When I left my house this morning, I just needed to get away from it all.
From thoughts of Swan.
It’s been nearly a week since I crossed a line with her. I can’t let that happen again.
After I talked about touching her while her boyfriend watched, I haven’t seen her. The rest of the week I stayed holed up in my office, trying to put together a list of suspects.
If I were in a place to turn away applicants, I wouldn’t have hired Swan. But I had no choice. Not only did three of my girls get murdered, but two quit, telling me they didn’t feel safe, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about that.
I get it.
I can’t keep them safe.
So, I hired Swan. Have I regretted that decision? Yes, and no. She gets under my skin. But she also makes me smile, which is unexpected.
I haven’t smiled in a long time.
I take a curve, glancing down at my speedometer, which reads ninety-five.
Blue and red lights flash behind me.
Fuck.
I pull off the road into a lazy field blanketed in purple wildflowers that sway with the breeze coming off the ocean.
As soon as I see the short-cropped black hair of the cop, I silently curse. Guy Adams, the worst beat cop on patrol. There’s nothing clean about the way this guy does business. If there’s a low-life drug dealer, or STD-infested stripper, then this guy’s using them as an informant to keep his ear on the ground. He’s tried to apply for membership in my club, but I’d never allow that.
I’ve known the motherfucker since high school. Back when he was just a bully. Now he’s a bully with a badge which in my book is the worst kind of bully to be.
I lower my window as he approaches the driver’s side.
“Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite asshole,” he says, leaning down so he can peer into my car.
“Funny you’re my favorite asshole too.”
“Cut the crap. Get out of the vehicle,” he sneers.
“Seriously, Guy?” I toss my Cartier sunglasses on the dashboard and step out of the car. “I don’t really have time for this.”
“Shut the fuck up. Do you know how fast you were going? I could write you a ticket right now if I wanted to.” But he doesn’t want to. No, he’d rather threaten and exert the power he thinks he has over me.
“I was going with the flow of traffic,” I say, knowing there were no other cars on the winding road.
He rolls his eyes. “I heard you got some trouble going on at your club.”
I shrug, not wanting to give away anything I think or know. Which right now is nothing. “Yeah, I heard that too.”