BREAK - A Bad Boy Romance Read Free Page B

himself, his upright posture, the bridled strength that seemed to pulse in even his smallest movements …here was a man who was utterly and completely in control of his physical form.
    And what a physical form it was.
    He was more Robinson Crusoe than hedge fund kid. Not a Calvin Klein model but the inspiration for one.
    This was very unexpected. I all at once felt small and became aware of myself slouching, of how cheap my haircut must have looked to him.
    “Drink?” said the girl, and snapped me out of my daydreaming.
    I thanked her, took the glass she was offering me and had a sip, noting how beautifully comfortable she looked, and feeling the lack of my own comfort even more strongly.
    “It’s a pity we missed each other yesterday, I do apologize,” he continued, crinkling the corners of his eyes into a warm smile.
    I cleared my throat.
    “Well, it’s me that should apologize – I was made aware that you weren’t happy with my piece. I do apologize. Cache magazine is primarily committed to content that is fair , so we’re absolutely more than happy to issue another article with a more balancing perspective, and you’ll have the chance to weigh in throughout, and we’ll run each quote by you befo--“
    “Woah woah woah,” he said, raising two broad hands and shaking his head.
    I stopped.
    The black haired girl looked adoringly at him, as though everything that fell from his lips was gospel from God himself.
    Was she his girlfriend? Some random groupie? I would have to explore that angle for sure.
    “I don’t care about any of that,” he said. “ Cache magazine is, if you’ll excuse me, a piece of shit. They’ve written about me before, and they’ve been wrong before. But you …you were right.”
    “What?” I stammered.
    He had shifted his weight in the heavily upholstered chair and the black haired girl now perched herself prettily on one of his thighs, snaking a bare brown arm over his shoulders.
    I was right? Then why had he called me all the out here to apologize? Why had I bought this ridiculous faux-reporter-please-take-me-seriously color-blocked monstrosity of a dress?
    “I was told you were unhappy with my reference to you and your recent …data security issues, and so I…”
    He interrupted me immediately.
    “Oh my God, you are way too highly strung,” he said.
    I tried to respond but he cut me short again, pinning me with his gaze.
    “I just said that to get you here, obviously. But you’re actually onto something. I absolutely did leak those pictures on purpose.”
    I felt like I was rapidly drifting out of my depth. I hadn’t prepared for any of this. And I was developing a complete and decided hate for my new dress.
    I felt stupid.
    I realized with fresh petulance that what I really wanted was exotic, flowing robes like this dark haired girl draped over him, and golden dangly bracelets, and I wanted to be loose and easy, and have long Pantene hair and easy confidence.
    “Ok, well, sure, there’s not a journalist in this country that believes you were actually hacked, right?” I said, in a tone that instantly seemed too hard and snarky, even to me.
    He looked hurt.
    “Man, that was mean,” he said and turned to the girl. “Kai, I think it’s your fault for not making that drink strong enough, honestly. Miss Mack seems pretty stressed out.”
    He turned back to me.
    This wasn’t the way it was supposed to go. He was the rich, asshole one-percenter, and I was the honest, truth-loving journalist who was going to expose him to the world. It was like he didn’t even know how this story was supposed to go.
    He was looking down at the chessboard.
    You wouldn’t think someone with such triumphantly toned pec muscles could look disappointed, but he did. And I felt bad. 
    “You misunderstand me,” he said. “I know what the press makes me out to be, obviously. But the way you wrote about me was …different. You get it. What did she say…?” he looked over to Kai, who