Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 23747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
I’m tired of being broke and sneaking into my father’s now foreclosed house to sleep on the floor every night.
Besides, I’ve had four gin and tonics so…here I go.
I barely get my hands around the silver pole before the lights go out, I’m dragged from the stage by a pair of strong, bear-paw hands and whisked away in the back of a dark limo to a mansion. I’m thinking maybe my billionaire prince charming has finally arrived to solve all my problems, but when I get my first look at the man who I now call Daddy, I already know he is no prince.
He’s my captor. I’m being held against my will by the dark, silent and oh so sexy stranger, and I know I should fight.
I know I should run.
But instead, I end up in a bubble bath, my kidnapper watching me with fire in his eyes. Only, when I find out who he really is, will all the fantasies of living the life of a princess shatter at my feet? Or will this man I’ve come to trust end up being my happily ever after?
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter One
Hudson
The sting of cheap whiskey burns as I swallow it like a lump of acidic coal. The last place I want to be right now is in this strip club, so I’m hoping the liquor will soften the edges of my prickly mood for the next hour until I can politely leave.
For now, I’m solidly planted at a high top in the back corner, with my phone to my ear, listening to my best friend and client Jackson go over the details of the upcoming house project I’m overseeing for him.
The burning in my esophagus is nothing compared to the testosterone-fueled heat coming from the men surrounding the stage. At ten PM on a Thursday, the dark space is sparsely filled. Breathing the musty air, with the scent of overly-applied perfume that mixes with the thumping bass, my senses are on overload.
The ten or so guys surrounding the stage are intently focused on the brightly lit chrome pole at my friend Wilson’s new strip club.
I should say, the club is new to him, not newly built or opened. It came to him through an inheritance with pre-stickied floors and a lightning rod of trouble-fueled girls bouncing their tits in any man’s face that holds up a few dollar bills.
The only tits on my mind are the ones I saw jiggling last night when I watched a girl hop a fence into the yard of an abandoned, boarded-up house down near the airport after I dropped off Jackson and his wife for their trip to Aruba.
The girl at the boarded-up house didn’t look old enough to be alone in that part of town, and my immediate sense of protectiveness surrounding her still has a solid grip on me somehow.
My thoughts have been a mixture of unabated lust and concern ever since. I couldn’t sleep. I got dressed and drove down there at two am and circled the house a few times before convincing myself I’d lost my damn mind. How could one little glance at a random girl on the street turn me inside out?
She was barely noticeable really, wearing this dingy pink beanie with her hair tucked underneath, sporting a backpack and mud-colored clothes two sizes too big, but that didn’t stop me from noting just what a curvy, succulent body she was hiding under there.
I don’t know what the fuck has come over me. She’s invaded me like some glorious virus and I never want to be well again.
“Crew’s going to be back in the morning to finish the demo.” Jackson’s voice comes through, breaking through my fantasies of the voluptuous beauty. I shake my head and try to focus. “Is your place coming along too? Glad this worked out. We had this vacation planned for a month and I couldn’t have Chastity there with workers all over the damn place. I’d be firing the crew every fucking day or getting arrested for assault. Or murder. I mean, I’m sorry about the fire at your place, but I’m glad you were staying in the guest wing already. You can supervise the reno for me. You’ll be well compensated.”
“Yeah, I’m not worried about the money. But, you gotta watch that temper. Or keep your wife in a cardboard box 24/7. But, yeah man, I’ll keep an eye on everything,” I tell him, raising my voice over the music and the excited hoots and whistles around me. “My place should be back to livable in the next few weeks. Using the same construction company worked out great. They already know I’m an asshole, but I’m fair. I’ve got a rapport with the crew, things should go smooth.”
“No more fucking Jiffy Pop for you,” he says as I blow out a long breath, avoiding eye contact with the topless girls that keep walking by. “I can’t believe you fell asleep with Jiffy Pop on the stove. Who the fuck even uses Jiffy Pop anymore?”
“It’s the only way to cook popcorn. Microwave popcorn is shit.” I sniff, squeezing my jaw, the anxiety building in my gut like barbed wire knots as I wonder where the little fence-hopping cherub is tonight. Is she cold? Hungry? Why was she there in the first place?
I nearly burned my own house to the ground when my nightly Jiffy Pop craving kicked in after I hadn’t slept for over twenty-four hours on a round-trip drive with Jackson to Detroit and back, as well as trying to keep up on the other twenty drivers that work for me that seem to need constant babysitting.
Being in business for myself is never something I thought I’d accomplish. But my limo/chauffeur business has done well, and it’s a dream and a nightmare all wrapped up together.
“Oh, Clancy, one more thing—” Jackson starts, but I cut him off.
“It’s Hudson. We’ve worked together seven years, I’ve told you thousands of fucking times I hate that fucking name. Why you gotta bust my balls, man?”