Provocative (White Lies Duet #1) Read Online Lisa Renee Jones

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Erotic, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: White Lies Duet Series by Lisa Renee Jones
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Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83912 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
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My gaze lands on my name and a birthday greeting written in my father’s familiar script. I swallow hard, my stomach flip-flopping, before my gaze jerks to his. “What is that?”

“He asked me to give it to you upon his death, if it was after you turned thirty or on your thirtieth birthday, should he pass before that date.”

My hands go to the back of my neck, under my hair; my throat is thick, and I have to turn my head away, my eyes shutting, a wave of emotions overwhelming me. “And yet my mother didn’t even have a will,” I murmur.

“People don’t want to believe they’re going to die,” he says. “It’s quite common.”

I jerk back to him, anger burning inside me at my mother, and at him for protecting her. Again. “You do what’s responsible when you hold a property of this value. You just do.” I grab the envelope my father left for me. “Please just buy me time.”

I stand and walk to the door, and just as I’m about to leave, he says, “Faith.”

I pause but do not turn. “Yes?”

“I know you’re angry at her, and so am I, but it, like all things, will pass.”

I want to believe him. I do. But he wouldn’t be so confident if he knew all there was to know, which I will never allow to happen. And so, I simply nod as a reply, then leave, thankful that Betty is on the phone and has a delivery driver in front of her, which allows me to pass by her without any obligatory niceties. Exiting the office, the cool air is a shock I welcome, something to focus on other than the ball of emotion the envelope in my hand seems to be stirring. Maybe I didn’t want to feel again after all, and eager to be alone, I quicken my pace, entering a tunneled path beneath an ivy-covered overhang, and don’t stop until I’m on the other side. Clearing it, I turn left to bring my car into view where it’s parked on the opposite side of the street, my lips parting, my feet planting, at the sight of Mr. Rogers himself leaning against it. And he isn’t just leaning on it. He’s leaning on the driver’s-side door, as if to tell me that I’m not leaving without going through him first.

Chapter Four

Faith

I now know the source of the dark lust and energy I’d felt with Nick Rogers wasn’t just about sex. It was about betrayal. Because the fact that Mr. Rogers—no, Tiger—is here at my attorney’s office, leaning arrogantly on my car, watching me with arms folded in front of his chest, ankles crossed, can mean only one thing. He’s working for the bank. And he’s doing it in a custom-fitted dark blue suit that I don’t have to see up close to know is expensive. Because apparently ripping out someone’s throat requires style. And he wears that suit well, too; it doesn’t wear him. He has a way of owning everything around him that I’d actually thought attractive last night. I’d allowed myself to be drawn into a flirtation with him. And I might have embarrassment in me if I wasn’t so damn furious with myself for being foolish and him for being an asshole.

I charge toward him, and he tracks my every move with those striking navy blue eyes. I actually got lost in them last night. I also know them to be intelligent and brimming with arrogance, which I plan to use to knock him down a notch or ten. Crossing the road, I don’t stop until I’m standing in front of him. “Get off my car,” I say before adding, “Mr. Rogers.”

His lips, which are really too damn pretty and full for a man, but still somehow brutal, quirk with amusement. “You don’t take requests well, I see, Ms. Winter,” he says. “I told you to call me anything but Mr. Rogers.”

“I can think of many names to call you right about now,” I retort. “But Mr. Rogers was the kindest. I don’t like being played with.”

He arches a brow. “And…you think I’m playing with you?”

“I know you are.”

“You’re wrong,” he says immediately.

“If I’m wrong, how did you know I’d be here?”

“Your staff,” he replies simply.

My anger kicks up about ten notches, and I can almost feel my cheeks heat. “Do you win all your cases by lying? Because my staff didn’t know I was here.” I turn away from him, click my locks with my keychain, and open the door despite him leaning against it. He moves without argument, but my win is short-lived as the earthy male scent of him rushes over me, and I whirl around to find myself caged between a hot, hard male body and the hard steel of the car.



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