Made for Romeo (Made For #4) Read Online Natasha Madison

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Sports Tags Authors: Series: Made For Series by Natasha Madison
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Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 79670 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
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“Good meeting?” I ask and he smiles.

“I don’t think I want to act again,” he states and I just smile at him as he puts his head in my lap.

He looks up at me as my fingers go to his hair and play with it. “Okay, so what do you want to do?”

“I don’t know,” he admits and then shakes his head. “Scratch that.” He raises his arm over his head. “I’ve been working with Sander for these two weeks, and I want to do more on the creative side.”

“So do it,” I encourage him, and he just laughs.

“Just like that?” he asks, and I nod, the smile on his face spreads to his eyes. I can’t put into words what that smile does to me.

“Yeah, just like that. I think you’ll be really, really great at it since you’ve been on the other side of the camera, so you know what to look for. I think that you would be amazing at it.”

“You have to say that because you love me,” he teases me, and I roll my eyes.

“I mean, yes, it’s hard to tell someone they suck.” I shake my head. “What is the next step?”

“I need to talk to my father. We should go.”

“Now?” I get up. “I thought we were going for dinner.”

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials his father, who answers after one ring. “Hey,” his father answers, and Romeo looks down at the phone.

“Hey, Dad, can we come now?” he asks, and his father just laughs.

“Why are you asking dumb questions? This is your house; you can come here whenever you like.” He sounds just like Romeo. “Jessica, Romeo wants to know if they can come now.”

“Why is he asking that?” she questions, and I get up.

“Okay, we’ll be there in ten minutes.” My eyes open big, and I just shake my head.

“See you then,” my father says and disconnects the phone.

“What did you just do?” I ask, turning and running up the steps to our bedroom. “Ten minutes? We can’t be there in ten minutes. We have to go and get a cake or something,” I huff when I look for something to wear. “I have to shower; I still smell like sex.”

“Then go shower,” he says like it’s no big deal.

“I’m meeting your parents for the first time,” I remind him softly, and he tilts his head to the side.

“You’ve met them before.”

“That’s different. I was your side piece,” I hiss, and he throws his head back and laughs out loud, clapping his hands.

“Who told you that?” He puts his hands on his hips.

“Abigail,” I say as I walk into the bathroom and open the shower door. “Go and tell them we will be there in an hour. We have to shower and then go get your mother flowers or something.”

“Why?” he asks, and I swear I feel like my head will explode.

“Because I want to make a good impression,” I explain between clenched teeth. “I want them to like me.”

“They like you better than me,” he jokes. “I will go and get some flowers while you shower, and then we’ll walk over there.”

“Walk over there?” I ask, confused.

“They live four houses down.” I was wrong before, but now my head is going to explode.

I put my hands on my head. “Where?”

“You know the house that has wall-to-wall windows,” he tells me, and my mouth hangs open.

“The one that looks like it’s five houses?” He just nods. “Get out.” I point at him. “Go get flowers, and then get dessert.”

“Why?” he groans but the glare stops him and he holds up his hands.

“I’m going to go and you take your time. You look beautiful,” he assures me, and if I had something that I could throw at him, I would.

Instead, I jump into the shower, rushing the whole time. I walk back into the closet, looking at the choices I have. “What says I love your son and I want you to like me?” I ask the universe before grabbing my nude bra and matching thong. I move one hanger after the other, settling on a pair of tight white jeans and a champagne-colored, long-sleeved, V-neck silk top. The cuffs of the sleeves are elastic and they ruffle out. I’m tucking the shirt in when I hear the front door slam shut. I hear his sneakers squeaking as he walks up the stairs toward me.

“I got flowers and two cakes,” he announces and I just nod at him. “How are you doing on time?”

“I just need to brush out my hair and I’m good to go,” I reply, trying to ignore the way my stomach is rising to my throat. I look at myself in the mirror before I grab the champagne Valentino belt. Making my way back to the bathroom, I brush out my hair and apply just a coat of mascara, before joining him back in the bedroom.



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