The Scotch Royals Read online Penelope Sky (Scotch #3)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Billionaire, Dark, Erotic, New Adult, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Scotch Series by Penelope Sky
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Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84761 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
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“No.” I jumped out of the chair and headed to the door, wishing the couch wasn’t so close to the entryway. The couch faced the opposite way, but all Crewe had to was turn around if he wanted to get a look at Roy.

This was bad.

I hustled through the doorway and shut the door behind me.

Roy was in gray sweatpants and a t-shirt, his hair still damp from a shower. He’d just gotten off work and probably stopped by on the way. “Hey. You’re still up?”

“Yeah, I got off work late.”

“Cool.” He smiled, one dimple forming on his cheek.

“But…I’m gonna have to take a rain check with you. A permanent one. I told you I just got out of a relationship…but now I’m back in the relationship.”

“Oh, really?” he asked. “The guy finally got his head on straight. Good for him. You’re a serious catch.”

I’d just blown him off, but he had a great attitude about it. “I’m sorry about this…”

“Don’t be. I knew it was too good to be true.” He released a hollow chuckle. “Well, good luck.” He extended his hand.

I shook it. “Thanks. You too.”

He walked away and disappeared from the hallway.

When I walked back inside, I was surprised to see Crewe where I left him. He had an angry side to him, and I was surprised I hadn’t witnessed it. He was possessive and jealous, but he kept his rage under control. “He’s gone.”

Crewe rose to his full height, over six feet of muscle and man. His jeans made his ass look great, and the sleeves of his shirt were tight on his arms. His body was just as sexy as his face. When he faced me, he still wore that grim expression of anger. “Let’s go to my place.”

He must have figured out why I didn’t want to stay here. At least I didn’t have to spell it out for him. “Just let me grab a few things…”

We got out of the car and stood on the sidewalk of the hotel he was staying at. Hardly anyone was on the sidewalk at this time of night, but to the left stood a man in a black trench coat with a black beanie over his head. He was taping a paper to the pole of the streetlight.

Crewe whispered something to the driver and slipped him some money.

I kept watching the man, wondering what he was posting at this time of night. When he was finished with the paper, he walked toward me and held out a sheet. “I’m sorry to bother you…have you seen this woman?”

I took the paper and examined the woman’s features. She had dark brown hair and a pretty face. She was an engineer for the city but went missing a few weeks ago. Her name was Pearl. “I’m sorry, I don’t.”

Crewe emerged from nowhere and placed his body between the two of us. “Can I help you?”

“He’s just trying to find his friend,” I said.

“Have you seen her?” The man held the paper out to Crewe. “She’s a really good friend of mine…disappeared on a trip to Mexico. I keep thinking she might turn up, but there’s been no luck.”

“Sorry, man.” Crewe pulled me into his side and guided me to the entrance of the hotel.

“I hope you find her,” I said over my shoulder before we walked inside and took the elevator to the room.

His hotel room looked like more of a penthouse. It was bigger than a home for a family of four, with more amenities than he would ever use, but dukes seemed to travel in style. It had a full kitchen, two living rooms, and three bedrooms.

What did he need all of that for? “It’s nice.”

He carried my bag into the master bedroom and set it on the edge of the bed. I would have carried it myself, but he insisted on handling it. He slipped off his shoes and immediately began to undress. Once the shirt was off, his perfect torso was revealed. It was lined with grooves of strong muscle, delicious skin, and the large scar that sat above his heart.

I stilled as I stared at it, seeing the strange lines that stretched out around it. The scars were more noticeable because of his white skin. It contrasted like white font on black paper. It was difficult to look at because I remembered exactly how it had appeared when the blood was soaking into his shirt as he lay on the ground. I’d ripped his shirt in half to stabilize the wound as much as I could, but nothing could stop the profuse bleeding.

I was surprised he hadn’t bled out and died.

He undid his jeans and pushed them to his ankles. When he was in just his boxers, he walked to the bed and yanked the sheets back.


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