Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 88447 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88447 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
And Diego could be very, very charming when he wanted to.
Feeling like a teenaged idiot, I asked, “Does Layla like Diego? I thought he was preoccupied with Selena Murphy.”
“I don’t fucking know,” Leo growled.
“Then why did you bring it up?”
“Because you’re my friend, and if you lose her, I know you’re going to hurt. And you will lose her. You’ve stood Layla up nine times. I know you don’t want to hear this, but you’ve broken her trust. Hannah and Joy are both protective over Layla, and they want her to have the kind of happiness they do. The other night, Layla got drunk and confessed that she thought she was a terrible person because she was so jealous over the relationship that Hannah has with me. That she wants to be someone’s princess, too. Or in this case, someone’s baby bear. But that’s no surprise to you, is it?”
No, it wasn’t. Even before Layla sent me that BDSM graphic novel, I knew her sexual tastes ran along the same lines as mine. I enjoyed kinky sex, and God knows I’ve always been dominant as fuck in bed. Layla’s tastes tended to land on the more submissive end of the scale. She wanted to be owned by a strong man, protected and cherished. Spanked and fucked. I think she was one of those women that would really enjoy roleplay as well. The costumes and ability to become someone else in her imagination would appeal to her. Hell, she spent her free time pretending to be an elf online for fun.
She was so perfect for me…yet completely hands off.
Trying to tamp down my endless sexual frustration when it came to Layla, I growled, “What’s your point?”
Leo looked like he wanted to throw his drink at my head. “My point, you obstinate fuck, is you better bring your A game to the charity ball, or you’re going to lose your secret obsession forever.”
Chapter 4
Layla
“I have a really, really bad feeling about this,” I said to Joy, the bubbly, gorgeous blonde woman styling my hair.
I considered her in the mirror. Joy was shorter than me by a few inches with enormous breasts. At a little over seven months pregnant, Joy said she’d gone up three cup sizes since she gotten knocked up. As she liked to put it, her tits were out of control. Ramon, her husband, had no complaints. He seemed fascinated by her changing body, and I thought it was cute how often he pawed at her.
I’d met him earlier, briefly before he was banished from Hannah’s house, along with Leo. Joy said she needed her girl time, and if Ramon didn’t give it to her, she would cry. Evidently, one of her secret pregnancy superpowers was to cry on demand. It was a very effective tool to use against her protective husband.
“Don’t be silly,” Joy scolded as she played with the draping of the expensive peach colored designer gown Hannah had loaned me. “All the top donors for the hospital will be there. It’s the perfect place to schmooze big spenders and get them interested in your service dogs for foster kids’ charity. You could score some seriously major bucks tonight. Major. These people like to spend and you, my dear, are a sweet little walking tax write-off that the right rich person is searching for.”
“I know.” I sighed, having overthought tonight to the point of driving myself crazy. “I’m just nervous. And it feels tacky to hit people I don’t know up for money, even if it is for a good cause. But the charity needs it so bad. A Kid’s Best Friend has over five thousand requests for dogs from all over the USA. That’s a lot of kids in need. I can’t screw this up.”
“Don’t be nervous. I mean, I know it’s easy to say don’t be when I’ll be at home getting a foot rub and eating ice cream, but seriously—you have nothing to worry about. As far as asking for donations, that’s what this kind of event is for. They expect people to approach them and talk about their charity. These people have obscene amounts of money, and they’re always looking for a new tax write off.”
“I know it’s stupid, I just have these fears that I’m going to try to talk to someone and they’re going to curl their aristocratic upper lip at me and ask who let the peasants in.”
Joy giggled, her ample belly bouncing. “Please. You’re so damn beautiful, everyone is going to kiss your butt, wondering who the mystery woman with the Cordovas might be.”
I clenched my hands into fists in my lap, biting back the instant denial.
The image in the mirror before me was nothing but a pretty mask that hid the monster beneath.
My mother’s voice, dripping with venom, began to whisper insults before I managed to lock it away.