Tempting Little Thief (Girls of Greyson #1) Read Online Meagan Brandy

Categories Genre: College, Contemporary, Dark, Mafia, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Girls of Greyson Series by Meagan Brandy
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Total pages in book: 192
Estimated words: 182641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 913(@200wpm)___ 731(@250wpm)___ 609(@300wpm)
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Or maybe it’s just me who feels the change, the air of power.

The shift of authority.

Out of the corner of my eye, I assess the room, and no, it’s not only me.

Some are sitting back, flirty smiles gone as they mask their expressions in favor of something more intimidating. These men aren’t the bosses.

A boss wouldn’t willingly walk into a snake pit without a weapon, but they are important men, higher than soldiers but not quite a second-in-command. Cousins maybe, loyal brothers who follow orders like well-trained pups.

Bastian is different.

He comes from the streets, not a bassinet protected by bullets.

The world is his weapon, and so is everything in it.

I’m less than four feet through the door when Bastian’s head snaps over his shoulder as if he senses me coming, and the marbly shade of his gaze changes right before my eyes. Darkening. Pupils dilating.

If he looked threatening before, he’s downright menacing now. His jaw ticcing as he takes in my outfit … or lack thereof.

See, one little blip we choose not to tell our fathers is the friendly little competition we allow our Greysons to have while secretly helping them gain some independence. No one wants their parents privy to everything they choose to buy, and who knows, maybe some plan to run once they find the courage to stand up to the person making their decisions for them.

The girls aren’t strippers and they aren’t allowed to trade sex for anything they may be offered, so they must keep the goods hidden, but the rest of their skin is free game. The more they make, the more they take home, and the highest of the night gets a bonus. If they make it to the five-hundred-thousand mark, the frosty wall on the left side of the room grows clear, and she gets center stage in the cage.

Some do it for the thrill, something we desperately need after being prim and proper all the time. This allows a safe place to let go without ending up on social media or some TMZ story about “Heiresses Gone Wild.”

Others do it looking for a golden ticket, a marriage proposal to a powerful family. Two girls have accepted offers already and we’ve only been up and running at full steam for eighteen months. If my memory serves me right, both girls were wearing the same shade of red I am those nights.

Judging by the murderous glare in Bastian’s eyes, he’s not a fan of the corset bodysuit.

Or more, judging by the perilous flame soaring behind the white-hot rage, he doesn’t like that others can see it …

I wonder what he’d say if he knew I wore it for him?

Smile and shred it to pieces, if I had to guess …

Bastian tracks me like a gazelle he’s already claimed, his glare slicing to John Grecko, the Greyson who replaced the girl who poured his drink, as John looks at me.

With a flick of my hand, I send him to the other end, stepping in front of Bass, a three-foot-wide bar the only thing keeping him from yanking me against him. I thought it would be a safe distance, but apparently it isn’t.

He doesn’t hesitate, instantly jerking forward so his torso stretches over the space, his pointer finger hooking into the deep V of my top, ready to haul me across the granite, right to him.

“Don’t do it,” I warn quickly, plastering on a saucy smile while my eyes beg him to listen. “All hell will break loose.”

“I was born in hell. Lived with the devil for fifteen years. I can take it.”

A frown builds along my brow, a million questions running through my head, but all I say is, “Let go.”

“Don’t want to.” His voice rumbles, his jaw clenching and then a low growl leaves me. Reluctantly, he releases me, but he doesn’t sit back. His eyes bore into me and something that feels a lot like guilt washes through me, though it makes no sense. I have nothing to be guilty about.

Sure, I was trying to draw him out by coming here tonight and partying with the group as a whole—if he knew when Dom was near me, surely he’d show if he knew eight other guys were. By show, I meant snatch me in the hall or wait in the dark corner of the suite.

He’s the one who came in here unannounced as if he had any idea what to expect when he arrived. I bet he still doesn’t have a clue what he walked in the middle of. Not that it matters.

I don’t think he cares.

But the closer I look, the more my concern builds as this man in front of me is showing none … nothing.

He’s pissed, that’s for sure, but other than that, he almost looks like he’s enjoying himself, like there’s a secret I don’t know and he’s not going to tell me.



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