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)
Or queens, in our case.
Of the criminal underground world, that is.
I pour less than a shot into the short crystal glass and draw it to my lips for a slow sip of the oaky butterscotch flavor. Blindly unclasping and easing the zipper down along my left hip, the heavy-pleated uniform piece falls to the floor.
Resting my elbows on the bar top, I drop my head back, close my eyes, and revel in the moment alone as I release the long, slow sigh I’ve been holding for what seems like days. In reality, it’s only been hours since my father broke the foolish news to me, and it’s twisting me up inside in an irritating mix of anger and anticipation.
But seriously, what the fuck is he thinking?
“I’m no expert, but I’m damn sure that’s how them heels are meant to be worn.” The deep, gravelly words come from somewhere behind me, slicing through my thoughts, and it takes true effort not to jump.
With steady, overly practiced grace, I point my attention over my shoulder to the far-right front corner of the room, where a black velvet armchair sits, the particular nook dark for a reason.
The golden edging along the crease of the wall offers the smallest reflection off the chandeliers, creating the slightest silhouette but nothing more.
No man I know, or woman for that matter, would dare slip inside this suite without permission.
Silence falls, and the dead man leans forward in the chair, the light catching on something shiny along the left side of his face.
Gleaming back at me is a silver loop, curved perfectly around a full, crimson, crookedly hooked bottom lip.
My shock gets the best of me, my eyes widening the slightest as recognition dawns, and he doesn’t miss it.
A dark chuckle whispers into the air, the sound deep and rumbly like distant thunder, and then his gaze is flicking over my body. His teeth come out, toying with the piercing before his stare lifts, locking onto mine.
“We meet again, Rich Girl.” He cocks his head, an unrelenting, triumphant smirk spreading. “You gonna offer me a drink or what?”
What.
The.
Fuck.
Chapter 2
Rocklin
The urge to pass off this Don Juan wannabe to literally anyone else is high, but the sharp spark of intrigue, or the sheer lack of self-preservation on his part, is somehow greater.
He couldn’t possibly have tailed me from the gas station. He was nowhere near his broken-down car and I was pushing a hundred within seconds of pulling from the parking lot, so how he’s here right now, I don’t know, but I will find out.
I push off the bar, readying to step behind it, but Tall, Daring, and Dreadfully Dressed seems to be against such a move.
In a few long strides, he’s a sway away from me, and this time, it’s he who tsks his tongue.
My left brow pops up. “Do you or do you not want a drink?”
“I want your hands where I can see them more.”
Smart, considering I was going for the weapon strapped to the underside of the shelf behind me.
Lifting my palms into the air, I wiggle my fingers and he creeps closer. “But I’m just a good girl who does what she’s told. What threat could I be to a big bad boy like you?” I push my lips into a fake pout.
“Uh-huh.” He keeps coming until he’s but a foot away, his arms stretching out, hands gripping the edge of the marble at my back. This close, I’m forced to drink him in, from his dark hair to his dark demeanor.
His hair is as black as obsidian, shiny like glass, and a moppy mess on top, though smooth and short on the sides. He wears it slightly slicked, but a few pieces have fallen forward, hanging just long enough to create a shadow over his right eye, drawing attention to the slim white scar over his left. His brows are thick, lashes long and sweeping, and his eyes a startling shade of celestine stone.
The invader stares for several silent moments, his eyes nearly too bright to stare into, but it has nothing to do with his mood.
He’s bored at best.
“You know why I’m here?” he asks.
“To perve in a corner while an unsuspecting female undresses?”
“Right. That part.” His gaze lowers, and it doesn’t stop a small frown building along his forehead. “What kind of schoolgirl wears lace and them clip things under her uniform?”
“Clip things?” I deadpan. “Seriously? Have you never bought a girl lingerie?”
Attention still on my body, he says, “Do I look like someone who needs lingerie?”
“Aw.” I pretend to pout and his eyes snap up to my lips. “Of course someone like you would assume risqué negligee had a single thing to do with what you need. What a selfish lover you must be.”
His jaw flexes, and I refuse to react when he jerks even closer, my body now pinned between his and the heavy furniture behind me. For being as trim as he appears, the muscles pressed against me inadvertently reveal there’s much more to be seen.