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)
Love kills … not that I love him, but I might like him too much, and while this, whatever this is, might be free, it will still cost.
What if I do love him, though?
Needing a distraction, I ask, “Do you go to school?”
“When I feel like it.” His lips curve, and when mine don’t, he jerks a shoulder. “Missed a lot my freshman year when my dad lost his job and took it out on me, so I should have been done last year, but it doesn’t matter. Took the exit exams not long after I got to Brayshaw.”
“So you’re a smart badass then?”
The corner of his mouth hooks up. “I am. I only go now so it doesn’t raise questions. Social workers come by the group home from time to time, dropping off or picking up kids, and couldn’t have them wondering who I am and all that. Best everything seems in place, so I deal.”
“And I imagine it’s good for … business?”
He nods. “It’s great for business. Just like a secret little club for gangsters and the mob.”
Every muscle in my body stiffens and Bastian laughs, his free hand gliding over his chest. “Come on now, girl, you already knew I knew.”
He’s right, I did, and he’s still here. Still breaking into places he shouldn’t.
Still calling me his.
“My dad would kick my ass if I even thought about not showing up to my classes when I felt like it.”
“He could try.”
My eyes snap up to Bastian’s.
He lifts a dark brow, daring me to question him, and a low laugh leaves me. His rough palm falls to the curve of my hip, tugging me closer, so I lay my head on his chest, my fingers drawing along his heated skin. “Good thing I enjoy my classes then, huh?”
“Such a good girl,” he teases, his lips sliding along my temple.
“Always.” I close my eyes, but as soon as my body settles, the sex haze officially fading, my mind is back on high alert. “I need to clean up.”
Climbing to my feet, I lock myself inside the lavatory and quickly clean myself up, allowing my head to clear a little more as I wash my hands, gazing at myself in the mirror.
My skin is flushed, my neck and chest marked too many times to count, and I smile as I towel my hands dry. Of course the man who’s marked all over would want to leave his all over me.
As I step out of the room, I find him glaring at the wall ahead, his eyes slowly moving to mine as I lift one leg, slowly sitting near his hip.
I trace the tattoo just over his left peck, a small scowl building. “You know if the Grecos let you in here, they have to be punished, right? We can’t allow them to put the manor or our operations at risk, no matter the reason.”
“Good thing they didn’t then, huh?” His tone is detached, but I keep my attention on his body.
“No?”
His gaze burns into my cheek. “Nope.”
“Then how?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
My hand stills at his words and curt response, my eyes snapping up to meet his. “Yes, it does. Did they let you in or not?”
His eyes narrow, searching. “No one let me in, Rich Girl.”
“This isn’t a game, Bastian.” I shake my head, my father’s words from earlier filling my ear. “If security is at risk here, I need to know.”
“I told you I would come to you, and I did.” He studies me for a long moment. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“I asked you a question first.”
“Rich Girl.”
“Don’t.”
“Rocklin,” he barks.
I attempt to yank away, but his grip tightens.
I draw my legs up as if to kick off him, and he shifts to wrap me up, as I knew he would, so before he’s able to flatten, I spin. My bedside dagger is in my hand, my arm flinging around and coming straight to his neck as he flips us, putting him back on top, but I press my ankles into his shoulder blades. When he tucks the slightest bit, I flip him.
Bastian has my shoulders in his grip, his ankles now locked behind my back.
“Tell me how you got in.” I hold the blade firm, my thumb pressed to the dual sides.
He stretches up, pressing farther into the blade, and I hold still, calling his bluff, but he keeps coming, and red droplets appear, slowly running over the side of his neck.
“I told you not to hide from me,” he speaks through clenched teeth.
“How did you get in?”
“Don’t worry about it. No one else will.”
“Bastian! This isn’t a bad boys’ club. This is real-life shit here. We don’t beat people up in a ring as punishment!”
The moment I say it, I want to take it back, but I know that I can’t, and now it’s out there. It’s not exactly what I meant …