Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 94048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Oh my god.
I could scream. I probably should. I mean, there’s a man threatening me with kinky sex and licking his lips at me in a dark parking lot.
Too bad I’m extremely into it.
I’m apparently both desperate and brainless. Not a great combo.
I look over my shoulder. There’s nobody around. Nobody to help, nobody to care. Not that they would anyway.
I don’t trust myself to reply, so I get in and start the engine, my cheeks burning pink.
Chapter 6
Emily
Simon looks all wrong in my Honda Accord.
For one, he’s too big. The man was built for trucks and SUVs. His legs are cramped, and even though he sits like he doesn’t have a care in the world, he’s still smashed into that old seat.
And for another, he’s a perfect contrast. Where my car’s dingy and beat-up with stains on the dash and rips in the headrest, he’s perfectly put together, his dark, wavy hair pushed back, his body shoved into a suit that probably costs more than I pay for rent in a year, and he looks damn good in it. He drips wealth, from the Rolex to the shiny shoes, while I’m just a broke girl driving a beater that doesn’t do much more than roll.
He takes me to the Viceroy, an incredibly luxurious hotel right in downtown with an old-world feel. The exterior looks like it was built at the turn of the century while the interior is all modern chic with mid-century charm. The bar’s crowded, but when Simon walks toward it, two men stand and vacate their seats. My host sits and gestures for me to join him.
I stare at his lips as he orders our drinks. A Manhattan for him and a gin-and-tonic for me. I don’t know how he knows what I drink, but I don’t complain. I really need it right now. I take greedy drinks when the bartender puts my glass in front of me. He looks back at me, still not talking, and the longer I’m here, the more I want to scream.
I don’t know what this man could possibly want from me, but I’m picturing some pretty horrific stuff.
Like The Most Dangerous Game type stuff where this psychopath hunts me through the streets for sport.
Or maybe he wants to do some kind of sex-slave situation, although I have trouble believing he has any issues there. Women probably throw themselves at him.
The man looks like he was born out of the ocean from a couple of Greek gods and ready to fuck whatever lucky woman he sets his eyes on.
I picture him with nothing but a shell over his dick, and okay, maybe I’m not scared enough at this point.
I’m thoroughly freaking out, when he finally puts me out of my misery. “You’re scared,” he comments, which is putting it mildly. “You don’t need to be. We’re here surrounded by tourists because I wanted to put you at ease. Nothing bad will happen to you tonight. You have my word.”
I take a deep breath and blow it out. “Okay, great. That’s a real comfort coming from a guy that broke into my car and threatened to kidnap me.”
“I believe I threatened to tie you up and spank you.”
My heart does a triple beat and I clutch my cold glass tightly. “Uh, I think you said you’d show me your kink.”
“Whoops. Guess now you know.” He swirls his glass. “Are you going to act like I’m a monster all night? This conversation is going to be painful otherwise.”
I take another long drink. “Just get this over with, okay?”
He leans to the side so he can study my profile. I’m very aware of the way he’s looking at me, like he’s sizing me up for something, and I don’t like it.
“Alright then, I’ll be straight with you. I brought you here because I think we can help each other.”
That’s not what I expected. I tilt my chin in his direction, fighting against my natural inclination to stand up and scream my head off. “How in the world could we possibly help each other?”
He leans in close. My mouth waters at the thought of him kissing my throat. “I know about your father.”
And just like that, all my excitement disappears, and it’s like my body goes colder than the ice in my glass.
I don’t say anything. I can’t say anything. Nobody’s supposed to know about what happened to my father. He begged me not to tell anyone, and I swore I’d keep it a secret. That’s why I’ve been working so hard to take care of him with absolutely no support from anyone else. All because my father’s pride is hurt, and I can’t stand the idea of letting him down.
And now some random stranger knows.
“I don’t believe you,” I choke out, which is weak, I can totally admit it, but I’m not exactly at my best right now.