Total pages in book: 192
Estimated words: 182641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 913(@200wpm)___ 731(@250wpm)___ 609(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 182641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 913(@200wpm)___ 731(@250wpm)___ 609(@300wpm)
Dom’s words should be enticing, the statement sensual, alluding to naughty things, but it doesn’t quite ring right when you happen to know that while, yes, he’s known to last the night … he took my five-minute warning as his hint to exit, when he could have read it as a challenge.
I only need three, the raspy roughness of my intruder replays in my mind.
What a smooth bastard he was.
With one last kiss to my knuckles, Dom makes his way to the door.
“Before I go.” He pauses. “Sergio mentioned a security alert came through.”
I don’t allow my frown to slip into place, my focus remaining out the window while my lungs expand.
Did he get caught after all?
“Oh?”
Damiano doesn’t respond right away. “There was a ping of your Aston Martin this morning. Someone ran the plate number, but the system was unable to pick up from where …”
He doesn’t ask why someone would feel a need to run the plate in the first place like he wants to, hoping I’ll offer the answer on my own.
I spin to face him, meeting his gaze with a fixed one of my own. “Thanks for the heads-up.”
When I say nothing else, he takes the hint, leaving me alone once more.
I walk around the desk, lower into the seat, and pull the microphone over, placing it directly before me.
So Tall and Tattooed dug a little deeper. The Aston was stored the minute I stepped out of it, which means he memorized my plate number in the six seconds he saw it, but not only that. Our security couldn’t figure out where the search came from?
Interesting.
Well, interestingly irritating.
As I watch the clock tick toward game time, my phone screen lights up with a silently delivered text, and I glare at it a long moment before clicking on the unknown sender’s message.
Unknown: Shame, Rich Girl. Thought we were on the same page.
My lips press into a small smile, and I lean back in the chair.
Me: Should I know who this is and to what it is you’re referring?
Unknown: Cute. In a bratty, not at all attractive type of way. You know who this is, and you know what I mean. James Bond. His lips. Your skin.
I fly to my feet, spinning and flicking my gaze along every inch of space beyond the glass window. No sign of a black, moppy mess in sight. He can’t possibly be on the grounds. Eyes flick from my screen to the glass and back.
Me: Careful. Stray dogs get put to sleep.
My warning falls on deaf ears, or maybe dumb ones, as he responds in kind.
Unknown: Listen. Bad pussies don’t.
The innuendo couldn’t be clearer. If I were less trained in the art of composure, my jaw might have fallen open, and a laugh might have followed.
He’s ridiculous.
Clueless.
He’s also quite bold and, yes, clearly lacks any sense of self-preservation, but bold nonetheless. So he thinks he’s capable of wearing me out, of “putting me to sleep,” does he?
Me: I create rules. What gave you the impression I would follow any?
I wait for that instant response, for his quick wit and ready remark.
It never comes, and irritation turns in my stomach at an irrational, not to mention uncharacteristic move such as that one.
The clock ticks its final second, and I quickly reclaim my place behind the desk, but my mind is reeling, my fingers twitching with the need to tap the trigger of cool steel.
So, Dom knows I was somewhere I shouldn’t have been.
Tall and tattooed knows who I am and where to find me.
My dad knows I don’t agree with his decision.
And I know those are all facts, meaning there is nothing I can do about all the above.
What utter bullshit is that?
Boiling with irritation, I flip on the gem-covered switch in front of me.
“Good morning, Greyson, Rocklin Revenaw here …”
My smile is wide, my voice welcoming.
Not a care in the fucking world.
Chapter 5
Rocklin
Swiping her rich-red lipstick across her full lips, Bronx winks at herself in her compact mirror, tossing it in her clutch the same moment Sai lets off the brake, the car rolling forward for our turn to exit.
Delta and I lean back into the seat as Sai’s shadow passes the window, and seconds later, he’s tugging the door open, and one long leg at a time, she climbs out. Once he closes us inside, the blackout windows providing no insight to those around us that two girls still sit inside, we shift in our seats to watch.
Spine straight, shoulders stretched and squared with perfect form, Bronx floats her way toward the door. The dress of choice tonight is the exact shade of her lips, an enticing contrast against the smoky softness of her golden skin. Her curls are tight and pulled back in a sleek, low band, leaving her collarbone and neck completely exposed, ebony ringlets teasing the nape of her neck.