Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56508 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56508 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Fuck. What’s wrong with me? What’s happening? I feel drunk, but I haven’t touched a drop in months.
I try to go on with my workout, but focusing isn’t easy. I keep worrying my dick is going to get hard just thinking about her, and in between sets, I look around instinctively, needing to find her. What if she has a boyfriend? If I see a man touch her…
I need to cool off. Fast. I need to get some control.
Replacing the dumbbells on the stand, I take my water bottle to the water fountain to refill it. And who’s in line ahead of me? It’s my shy woman, standing with her back facing me. Her hoodie has ridden up her back a little, giving more shapeliness to her ass. The base of my cock aches. I want—need—to walk up behind her, drive my dick against her, let her feel how beautiful she is.
Her mouth falls open when she turns and sees me staring. I quickly avert my gaze. I’m probably freaking her out. She walks past me, then pauses and glances up. She’s close enough I could grab and kiss her.
“Nine-one-seven, five-five-five, seven-four-eight-two.” Her cheeks are bright red. She’s trembling slightly as she speaks. Suddenly, I don’t know how I know—I just do—that something is wrong. I know she needs my help.
“Repeat the number,” I say again, reading her. She doesn’t want to speak here. Maybe she knows who I am. Maybe she knows I can help her.
She repeats the number, then quickly walks away. As I commit the number to memory, I watch her go, savoring the way her ass shifts from side to side.
Then I take out my phone, quickly enter her number, and send a text. Is something wrong?
She looks up from across the gym. She’s got one arm wrapped around herself, holding the phone in her other hand. Yes, she replies. I don’t know who else to turn to, Mr. Marino.
I smirk, moving away from the fountain and leaning against the wall. There’s a fair amount of distance between us—and she has a habit of looking down—but I’m pretty sure she’s got a cute-as-hell smile on her face, too. Call me Luca, I tell her. And, if I’m going to help you, I’ll need to know your name.
Ruby, she tells me. But I’m not sure you can help.
You wouldn’t have given me your cell number if you thought that.
Do you know who Maverick Kingston is?
Everybody on the East Coast knows who Maverick Kingston is. He’s a congressman who’s been making waves in the news recently, clearly in a bid to set up a presidential run.
…
Three dots appear, telling me she’s typing a message. I can’t stop staring at her, especially the arm she smooths across her stomach. It makes me wish it was my arm instead, feeling her heat blaze through her clothes. It makes me want to hold her more intimately than I’ve ever held anyone—than I’ve ever even thought about holding anybody.
Finally, her text arrives. His son is blackmailing me.
CHAPTER 3
Ruby
As Lexi drives us home, I drum my fingers on my leg. I didn’t plan on going all wannabe-spy-novel and giving Luca my cell phone number. But something clicked in me when I turned from the water fountain and saw him standing there. It was the way he was staring—so intense, almost protective. I just blurted it out.
I’ve got a text from Luca waiting, but I won’t check it while Lexi’s paying attention. She’ll be able to see how much his words make me ache. She’ll ask questions I can’t afford to answer.
She parks up outside our rundown three-bedroom. When we get to the door, a crash noise greets us, and then Mom’s raised voice. “Don’t say that like you ever even tried, Paul!”
“You’re just nuts, Wren! Nuts!”
Lexi turns to me with a frown. “So much for a relaxing shower and a movie. I’m going to head back to the gym and shower there, then see if they’ve got any shifts at the restaurant. I can’t be bothered dealing with this crap.”
I nod. “I’ll just hide in my room. Headphones. History books. Easy.”
Lexi touches my arm. “You sure? I don’t want to abandon you.”
“We’re not kids anymore,” I tell her.
“Fair enough.”
She returns to her car. I walk inside, ignoring the yelling, sneaking upstairs before they know I’m here. The second I close the door behind me, I drop onto the bed and take out my phone.
Explain, Luca’s text reads.
I swallow, nerves tightening in me. From downstairs, there’s another crash. It’s a miracle we’ve got any dinnerware left, considering how Mom goes through it during every argument.
It was two weeks ago. One of my college friends invited me to a frat party. I’m not much of a partier, but my friend didn’t want to go alone, so I went. I only had one drink. I think it was spiked. I was all groggy. When I woke up, the congressman’s son, Nate Kingston, was sneering at me. I was in his bed. I wasn’t wearing any underwear. He laughed when I got panicked. He said, “Relax, fatty, I didn’t do anything. Just this…”