Total pages in book: 266
Estimated words: 250787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1254(@200wpm)___ 1003(@250wpm)___ 836(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 250787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1254(@200wpm)___ 1003(@250wpm)___ 836(@300wpm)
My phone rings, and I look down at it, expecting it to be her calling to tell me to go to hell, but to my surprise, it’s not.
It’s Ashtyn.
I hit ignore and stand. Picking up a pack of cigarettes off the desk, I remove one and my lighter and then turn to the double doors behind my desk. I walk out onto the wraparound porch and light one up, soaking up the sunny day. I’m not ready to talk to her. Not until I have something to give her. She deserves answers. Saint deserves answers. And I haven’t heard anything new from Kashton, so I know he and Saint don’t have any information.
So I’ll continue to look for the man in the picture and see how this plays out with Charlotte. I wanted her pissed and running. If this doesn’t do it, then nothing will.
Turning, I walk back into my office and sit down at my desk. I open the top drawer and pull out the information that Adam had found on my little whore.
I look over it.
That’s all he was able to find, but honestly it was all I need. This tells me everything I needed to know about her. Who she is and why she was placed into my life. But it also doesn’t make me feel sorry for what I did to my doll face. I wanted to make an example of her, and it couldn’t get any better than my cum leaking from her ass and my name branded on it.
CHARLOTTE
I was so tired I was able to crawl into bed and pass the fuck out for five more hours. My brain hurt as much as my body, and I needed to rest it. I hate that I dreamed of Haidyn and what we did down in my basement. It was like I lived it all over again. I woke up and had to remind myself about our phone call. Of course, I’m not good enough for a man like him in bed. I’m an inexperienced virgin. I don’t know why I’m letting it bother me so much. Maybe it’s the failure. I was born to win. My father raised me to know my limits and push past them. My mother raised me not to underestimate myself.
I may not be a Lord, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be something in our world. This was my one chance, my assignment, and I blew it.
And not to mention that his name is branded on my ass. It’s not big by any means, but it’s a reminder that he’s laughing at me. That I’m nothing more than a fucking joke.
After finally crawling out of my bed for the second time today, I shower and get ready for my girls’ night out. I’m slutting it up.
My black minidress has my tits on display. They’re not large, but with the right bra, they look like I paid for them. I know my stilettos will hurt so much that I’ll be crawling out of the club when it closes. I’ve done my makeup dark with black shadow, winged liner, lots of mascara, and the longest fake lashes I own. I have fucking wings on my eyes.
I feel good. Like a new person. One who didn’t allow Haidyn Reeves to touch. I scrubbed my skin until it was red and irritated, trying to get rid of his scent. I exfoliated and shaved every inch of my body. The bruises are still there, but I just can’t bring myself to care and cover them up. Fuck that. That would let him win.
I fluff my curly hair and apply some red lipstick. I’m going out to make a statement—my pussy may still be a virgin, but I do anal. I’ll find a guy, bring him home, and let him fuck me. Then I’ll be someone else’s whore. My ass will leak someone else’s cum. Hopefully, the bastard still has cameras in my bedroom and watches some drunk guy fuck my ass while I cry out the mystery man’s name like I’m being paid to do so.
Exiting my bathroom, I pick up my cell just as it rings. I answer without looking at the caller ID, knowing it’s my friends. “I’m about to leave…”
“Hello, Charlotte.”
The altered voice using my fake name almost has me tripping in my heels.
“Go to your living room,” he orders before I can even speak.
It’s as if someone threw cold water on me. Numbly, I make it to my living room to see two men dressed in cloaks, masks, and hoods. My stomach drops at the sight of them.
“Place me on speakerphone,” the man barks in my ear.
Pulling it away, I do as he says with shaking hands.
“Can you hear me?” he asks.
“Yes, sir.” Both men standing in my living room answer. Their voices also altered. I hate that the Lords go-to is to hide who they really are. It makes them fucking cowards if you ask me.