Excerpt
CHAPTER ONE
Scarlett
Why are there no hot men in this bar? I sigh. Why are there no hot men at any
bar—ever?
I take a sip of my gin and tonic as I scour
the room, looking for anyone who will do for tonight. This bar used to be the
best bar in New York City to pick someone up for a one-night stand. Now, it is
just another bar to add to my list of has-beens.
It’s a shame really. This bar has
everything. It’s clean; it has a live band every night, not just on the
weekends; and the bartenders here know my drink order without me having to
order. It used to be full of life, full of energy, but now, it is nothing more
than an overpriced bar with crappy music and no hot men.
As I glance around the large bar, I don’t
count more than six other people in the bar, only two of which are men. One is
too old—my best guess, mid-forties—and the other, I doubt he’s eighteen.
“It just ain’t what it used to be, is it?”
Todd says.
“No, it isn’t. I hate to say this, but I’m
going to have to find a new bar,” I say.
Todd wipes off the counter in front of me.
“I hate to say this, but me, too. The tips aren’t what they used to be. And if
my favorite tipper leaves me—”
“Your only tipper and most attractive
customer,” I say, smiling.
Todd flashes me his smile that is missing
one front tooth. “Only tipper. I won’t be able to survive on the measly salary
this place pays me. I guess it is off to find greener pastures.”
“Yeah, I guess.” I frown as I finish off
the last of my gin and tonic.
Todd immediately places another glass in
front of me, making me smile.
“Thanks, Todd.”
“You bet, Scar,” he says.
I take the full glass and raise it to my
lips, sipping the perfect, cold liquid that I find myself needing more and more
after a long day of work. I love what I do, but running Beautifully Bell
Enterprises, the fashion and beauty company I own, is exhausting by the end of
the day. I need something cold to relax me and a hot man in my bed to
reenergize me for the next morning.
As much as I love spending my evening
talking with Todd, it’s not enough. I need more. I need thrills and excitement
to invigorate me. To make me excited to wake up the next morning. I used to
have that every night when I was twenty-five and a model. I always knew the
hippest bars to find an attractive man. Half of the time, I didn’t even have to
go to a bar to find a man. The male models I worked with that day would more
than do.
Now, at thirty-two, I’ve found that it is
harder to find a good man for one night. I don’t model as much anymore. I just
don’t have time with my fashion empire. And then men my age are beginning to
become more and more interested in more than just one night. They want marriage
and babies and the whole package. I’m just not ready for that yet.
That leaves me with the
twenty-something-year-old men who are practically still babies themselves. Men
who are excited about the idea of one night only. Men who don’t care that I’m
older than them. Men who like being controlled by a more domineering woman.
My phone buzzes against the table, and I
turn it over to see who messaged me.
Kinsley: Emergency! Can I meet you
tomorrow? Have news!
My heart races when I see the words Kinsley
and emergency in the same line.
My best friend has been through too much in
the past. It’s been almost ten years now since she found out her family was
money launderers, smugglers, and killers. Ten years since my best friend almost
died at the hand of her own grandfather. Now, she’s living her happily ever
after here, in New York City.
But seeing her text message has me worried
that something has happened again. It’s after midnight, and my best friend is
never awake this late on a Thursday.
I type frantically.
Me: Where are you? Do I need to call the
police? What’s happening?
I stare at my phone, gripping it much too
hard, as I wait for the message to get sent and read.
Come on, come on, I think as I frantically bounce my legs up and
down, hoping that she will respond quickly. I should have just called her,
but what if she is stuck in the back of a trunk somewhere? Then, if I
called her, it would let her kidnappers know that she had a phone? What if her
mouth is taped shut with duct tape, and she can’t speak? What if—
Then, I watch as three dots appear on the
screen, indicating that she is typing a response. My phone buzzes in my hand as
the message comes through.
Kinsley: LOL. Sorry, didn’t mean to scare
you. There is nothing wrong. I’m completely fine. Just have some happy news
that I can’t wait to tell you tomorrow! We’ve been having trouble with finding
time for each other lately, so I just wanted to make sure you knew that I
really need you to drop everything and just be my best friend tomorrow.
I shake my head at my friend.
Me: Chica, you just about gave me a heart
attack, and then you wouldn’t have been able to share your news with me. Just
name the time and place, and I’ll be there tomorrow.
Kinsley: Eileen’s Cheesecake. 1:30 p.m.?
I laugh at her message. Since when does
my friend think it is a good idea to skip lunch and just go straight for
dessert? Sounds like I am finally rubbing off on her.
Me: Done.
I smile, excited to take a break tomorrow
to go be with my best friend. It has been a while since I have seen her. Three
months? Or is it four?
Even though we live in the same city, we
might as well live on different continents. With my busy schedule, it’s too
hard to find time to see each other. Especially since Killian, her husband,
doesn’t like the idea of us going out to pick up guys for me at night. I need
to change that.
I pull up my calendar on my phone. Shit.
I have meetings all afternoon. Not anymore, I think, smiling. I hit
Delete on every single one that starts after one o’clock and then type in Afternoon
with Bestie, starting at one thirty p.m. instead.
I open my email and type a quick message to
my assistant, Preston, to cancel everything and reschedule for later. I also
tell him to make sure I have an hour or two in the afternoon at least once a
week to make time for my friends. I’ve worked hard enough these last ten years.
I think I deserve an hour or two break to actually enjoy the money I make and
spend time with my friends.
I should also think of planning a vacation
soon. Maybe see if Kinsley and Killian would want to tag along. I’m sure I
could find plenty of men to enjoy my time with if we went to a beach in the
Caribbean or Mexico. So, I tell Preston to find a good time in my schedule to
do that, too. I hit Send, knowing that Preston is going to hate me when I come
into the office tomorrow, but he can handle it. It’s my business, and if I
decide I need a break, then I need a break.
I feel better already as I take another sip
of my gin and tonic. I might not be going home with a man tonight, but at least
I can go home, feeling good from the alcohol and knowing that tomorrow is going
to be a good day.
I finish my fourth drink.
“Another?” Todd asks although he knows I
usually stop after four, my usual limit for feeling good without overdoing it.
“A shot of tequila and then another gin and
tonic.”
Todd raises his eyebrows at me, but doesn’t
question me as he goes about making my drinks. “What’s got you in a better
mood?”
“My best friend has good news that she is
sharing with me tomorrow.”
“I thought I was your best friend,” Todd
says, placing the shot and glass of gin and tonic in front of me.
“Best guy friend.” I wink at him. I raise
the shot glass. “To my best guy friend.”
Todd smiles, and to my surprise, he raises
his own shot glass. We clink the glasses together and then both down our shots.
The tequila burns in the best possible way as it goes down my throat.
My phone buzzes again, and I expect to see
a message from Kinsley. Maybe she wants to meet up tonight after all. I doubt
she will be able to keep her good news to herself any longer. But it’s not from
Kinsley. In fact, I have no idea who it is from. I open the text message.
Unknown: I want you, just for tonight. I want
to make you feel things you have never felt before. I’ve been watching you all
night, Beauty. You’re exactly what I want.
I stare down at my phone, confused as to
what is going on. I glance over at Todd, assuming it is a prank, but he is deep
in conversation with the older gentleman who is now sitting at the bar instead
of at one of the pub tables.
Hmm…
Me: I think you have the wrong number.
My phone buzzes again almost immediately.
Unknown: I have the right number, Beauty. I
want to shred into pieces that little red dress you’re wearing that hugs your
overwhelming curves. I want to tame that mane of long, wavy brown hair. I want
to feel your tan legs wrapped around my waist until you dig your black pumps
into my back so hard that I have to punish you for the pain you have caused me.
I bite my lip as I stare at the seductive
message I just received. A message that seems like it is meant for me. The
woman he is describing fits me to a T. I uneasily shift in my seat at the
thought of having a stranger stalking me. Someone has been watching me, but I
can’t deny that the thought of a sexy man trying to seduce me via a text
message turns me on. It does—more than I would ever admit to this stranger.
I pick up my gin and tonic and spin in the
barstool until my back is to the bar, trying to act as casual as possible as I
scan the room. But I don’t see anyone new who could be sending this. I sigh. And
how would a stranger get my number anyway?
Todd.
I turn back around and wait impatiently for
Todd to find his way back down the bar to me.
“Did you give my number to any strange
men?”
“Nope. Why would I want to give any other
man a chance to snag my girl?” He smiles.
I wonder if Todd really thinks that way or
if it’s just a joke in the same way we tease each other about our choice of TV
shows. Todd isn’t bad-looking. The only odd thing about him is his missing
tooth that he told me he’d lost when playing ice hockey. To some women, that
would even be a turn-on. He’s about my age, but he’s just not my type. Not
dangerous enough. And I see him more as a friend than a lover.
I look back at my phone. If Todd didn’t
give this person my number, then who did?
Me: Who is this? Who gave you my number?
Unknown: It doesn’t matter who I am. All
that matters is, we both want the same thing. One night of danger, passion, and
mystery. One night that will forever be burned in your memory. One night that
will ruin you, so every time you fuck another man, you will think about tonight
and wish he were me. Wish he could thrill you the same way that I could.
I read his message, and it’s like he has
been reading my thoughts. It’s exactly what I want. It’s what I need.
But I still don’t know exactly what he is proposing. I begin typing to ask him
that very question, but I receive his message first.
Unknown: Will you meet me in my room on the
top floor of the Waldorf, Beauty? I want to fuck you until you’re so sore that
you can’t walk without thinking about me tomorrow.
My eyes widen as I read his text. I’m
supposed to go to a hotel room without even knowing who he is. He could be
planning on raping me. He could kill me.
Or he could give me the best night of my
life.
I begin to type, No, but then stop. Why
am I even considering this? This is crazy! I can’t go.
Kinsley would kill me if she found out. I
wouldn’t have to tell her though. It would just be one night, and then I would
never see this man again. Whoever he is.
He picked the Waldorf, one of the nicest
hotels in New York City. He has money.
What if he is that old man sitting down the
bar from me? I glance over at him. I
study his jeans and button-down shirt. There is nothing fancy or designer about
his clothes. His watch is a knockoff. And he’s drinking cheap whiskey. He
couldn’t afford a hotel room like that.
I could ask Todd to go with me. Check out
this man and let me know if he’s okay first. But that would take all the
excitement out of it.
I reach into my purse, making sure the
pepper spray I bought after Kinsley had gone missing is still there. It would
be my only defense.
I do a lot of kickboxing to stay in shape.
I’ve taken some self-defense classes. Being a single woman, living in New York
City, I felt I needed some level of protection. But I know my skills would be
no match for a man who is prepared to rape or murder. If he has a gun, I’m
fucked. If he surprises me, I’m fucked. If there is more than one man, I don’t
stand a chance. It doesn’t matter how many classes or how strong I am for a
woman; most men are still stronger than me. I shouldn’t even be considering it.
I hear the door open, and warm, humid air
fills the room. I turn just in time to see a tall, dark man leaving. A man in a
suit with tousled hair on top of his head. He looks like any typical
businessman my age who works in New York. But there is one thing not typical
about him. He turns to look at me just before the door closes, and for a split
second, I see the danger lurking in his eyes as he stares at me like no man
ever has. A danger that pulls at my heart.
I glance back down at my phone and hit the Delete
button until I erase, No. And then I type, Yes, and send the
text.
AUTHOR BIO:
Ella Miles writes sexy romance with strong females that could kick your butt if you piss them off, which they often do to the men that fall for them. She's currently living her own happily ever after near the Rocky Mountains with her high school sweetheart husband. Her heart is also taken by her goofy two year old black lab that is scared of everything, including her own shadow. Ella is the author of the Aligned series. Get a free book by visiting her website. Or by stalking her on Twitter or Facebook.
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