Primal – Heathens Hollow Read Online Alta Hensley

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Dark, Erotic, Taboo Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
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My eyebrows lift. The only thing happening at that hotel is a charity auction for children’s shelters in the area. Fiora doesn’t strike me as the charitable type. A 10,000-a-month allowance from Daddy is a drop in the bucket to a woman like her, and there isn’t a penny left over to spare. So, what the hell is she doing at an auction of all places?

“Is she alone?” I ask.

“Yes, sir,” Jasper responds. “It is the only place she’s gone all day.”

I tap my fingers against the door’s armrest. My best guess is that she’s defying my wishes again and meeting someone related to Mason. It’s clear she will never listen to me and will keep researching on her own. But I don’t want her involved with my investigation. As soon as I find out who James Porter is, there won’t be a James Porter to speak of. I’ll rip his teeth out one by one until I get the information I need, then feed him to the seals in the Sound. Not exactly the place for a lady, even if Fiora has enough spitfire to rival the sun.

The only thing I can do is go and drag her out of there my damn self.

“Take me there.”

Chapter 25

Fiora

Usually, I don’t attend two auctions a month, but this time, I’ll make an exception since the last one was so rudely interrupted.

As a socialite, I’m expected to make appearances. I field calls, messages, and DMs all the time inviting me to some opening or event. Or at least I did before I tried to escape and hide in Heathens Hollow.

As the daughter of a famous family, my presence is an endorsement and a bump in sales. I don’t bother with half of them. It’s usually some scam product, detox tea, or crappy musician who calls me a useless bitch when I decline.

Auctions are my favorite events.

There are usually no paparazzi or people waiting to post my picture on social media. The only photos being taken are the ones from the organizers themselves, which I easily avoid as I enter the ballroom where the auction is being held. At these auctions, I’m not Fiora Godwin. I’m an anonymous donor, offering my family’s dirty money to people who need it much more than I do.

Too bad today’s event is at Braken’s West Seattle hotel.

It’s like I can’t escape him. His stupid fucking smirk flashes through my mind far too often. He’s never even texted me, but I check my phone anyway, expecting a message demanding I come meet him. At the very least, I deserve a courtesy call for swallowing his cum. Instead, it’s been radio silence, and it pisses me off that he hasn’t bothered to reach out. And then I’m even more pissed that I even care.

Then to top it off, I see his sexy-ass boyfriends wherever I look. They don’t even try to hide that they are watching me now. Their eyes bore into me, smirks hint at promises I’m not sure I’m ready to face, and all I can focus on is how they told me that the three of them share.

So, if I’m with Braken—married to this man—what does that mean with the two of them?

And the craziest thing of all is that I’m not disgusted by the idea. I should be, but then again, I just spent time willingly running barefoot through the woods with a masked man hunting me down with the intent to fuck me. It’s fair to say I may have lost my mind a long time ago.

Thank God my ticket gets me a free glass of champagne. I hand my ticket to the doorwoman, accept my glass, and take a large swig as I enter the ballroom. This auction isn’t as fancy as the ones I usually attend, but it’s still decent enough. Small tables covered in white tablecloths are littered around the room. One large table has free hors d’oeuvres, but refills of drinks cost a small donation I will gladly give.

At the front of the ballroom are today’s auction items. From the back of the room, I can see a few trinkets, signed photographs, and even a new artist’s tablet. The main prize is a blown-up picture of a certificate to this hotel, including the VIP suite, a massage, and all-you-can-eat room service for two.

Did Braken offer that himself, I think before I can stop myself. I huff and finish my champagne in two gulps. I don’t want to think of him right now, if ever.

“Fiora!” someone calls.

I turn to see Levanta Dali approaching with a large smile. I return the smile and give her a hug when she gets close. Her father owns a frozen food company that delivers all over the world using Papa’s shipping, so we run in the same circles. I wouldn’t call her a friend, but we’re friendly. It’s not like I can call many people close friends. The real Godwin business makes sure of that.


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