The Dancer Read online Jordan Silver

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Bad Boy, Billionaire, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 150002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 750(@200wpm)___ 600(@250wpm)___ 500(@300wpm)
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“She gave you a workout did she?”

“I had to take the subway. I barely bought a Metro card in time and got downstairs just in time to hop on the train.”

“The good thing is she didn’t see me get into the next car over so she didn’t notice me following her home. Here’s her address.” He threw a piece of paper on the desk. “I need a damn drink.”

He left and I picked up the piece of paper and read it. I wasn’t familiar with this part of the city, but I knew enough about it to know that it wasn’t the safest place for anyone, especially not someone like her. One more damn thing for me to worry about.

That night after I was done for the day with the bullshit, I had him drop me off outside her building. I looked around at the broken street lights and almost broke out in a sweat.

She walks these streets after midnight. What the fuck had I been thinking? And how the fuck am I gonna get her out of here?

She lived in a shitty apartment building in a shittier part of town. My nose turned up in distaste as I made my way up the stairs to the second floor apartment after walking through the unlocked main door.

There was an elevator down there, but no way was I getting into one of those things in a place like this. I’d had enough of that shit as a hungry kid in the Bronx growing up.

There was graffiti on the walls and gang tags. The more I saw the more pissed I became. Could she be any more of a fucking stereotype?

Innocent young girl, new to the city, living in a dangerous side of town, walking the dark streets alone at night. It was the prototype for a typical B-movie.

This late at night there was still a lot of noise in the building. Kids screaming, TVs blaring and couples arguing. Not to mention the smell of burnt food from somebody’s dinner disaster.

The usual for a place like this where no one gave a fuck and most of the tenants had already given up on life. If you tried hard enough you just might catch the scent of desperation in the air.

As I approached her door I realized it had been a while since I’d been in a place like this. Not since I left home for college. I’d come a long way from those days.

I knocked twice on her door and waited. I thought I heard movement inside, but she didn’t answer, not even when I continued knocking. I sensed her on the other side of the door and knew that she was looking at me through the peep hole.

“Annabelle, open the door.” She took her sweet time, but I soon heard the locks disengage. She pulled the door open and glared up at me with her arms folded, blocking the way with her little body.

I pushed her back and walked in and down the short hallway with her hot on my heels. The place was tidy if sparse and there was a scent of something sweet in the air.

It was obvious that she’d tried to make the place into a little haven away from what was right outside her door. There were posters on the walls, and potted plants in the windows and on the one ratty desk in the corner.

I stood in the middle of what was the living room slash bedroom area of the studio apartment and turned to face her. She’d already changed out of her work clothes and her hair was still wet from her shower.

She looked out of place here, and if I wasn’t mistaken, more than a little embarrassed by her surroundings. She also looked tiny as hell in the robe that swallowed her up.

“What the hell are you doing here? How did you find me?” She went on the defensive. Something she does every time I get too close I noticed.

I kept my cool, knowing it would infuriate her farther and the perverse part of me wanted to set her off again. I could feel my body getting ready and sex wasn’t even on the table; not right this second anyway.

“Is that any way to treat your guest?”

“A guest is someone that’s been invited.” Rude little thing isn’t she? She folded her arms and tapped her foot.

“If you don’t mind I’d like to get dressed.”

“Who’s stopping you?” She walked over to the only chest of drawers and pulled out a pair of shorts and a tank top before storming into the bathroom.

She came out wearing the same robe, but this time it was open over the shorts and tank. Each time she moved I got a tantalizing view of her thigh and

I found myself staring at that bare flash of flesh.



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