The Billionaire and the Con Artist: A Bad Boy Romance (Bad Girls Series Book 1) Read Free Page A

my girly wiles to use later.
    I can tell she’s trying not to look judgmental.
    But she’s a professional and I can see her trying to work something out as she fixes her brown eyes on the screen, studying it intensely before relaxing a bit.
    She says something reassuring to herself under her breath then looks back at me with a bright smile.
    “Here are your cards, and here are the key cards for your room. Right beneath Mr. Bullock’s.”
    Is she being a bit snarky? Whatever.
    “Thank you,” I say like the unashamed fake mistress I am.
    I’m guessing the booking won’t show up anywhere, at least nowhere Mr. Bullock can see, not yet anyway. He won’t know the hotel handed him another suite in time to do anything about it, and I get a free awesome room.
    It’s perfect.
    I hurry to return the receipts and cards to him before heading to my new room.

    * * *
    A t times , I still find myself thinking, I can’t believe that worked .
    No matter how much I expect it to, or how many times a tactic worked before, when I take things up a notch in some way and it still works, I end up pretty damn impressed with myself.
    I almost laugh like a lunatic when I get a load of the suite I got.
    It’s huge as fuck—like, thousands of square feet, probably.
    A fairly quick exploration reveals two large bedrooms with king-sized beds and flat screen TVs in each one, a full dining room and kitchen with a frickin’ dining table that could seat ten, two and a half bathrooms, hot tubs, a fully stocked bar area, a piano, a fireplace… I mean, what the fuck?
    I know I shouldn’t be surprised, but when you actually see this shit up close it’s unbelievable what a different world some people live in.
    I’m usually dancing for joy if I happen to rent a motel room where a roach doesn’t make an appearance for the night.
    This extravagant bullshit helps to remind me that some of the people I pilfer from—well, they won’t miss what I’ve taken for a second.
    I return to the lounge area, surveying the breadth and scope of the suite again.
    Happy Birthday to me!
    Chances are, if I’m wrong about the old couple and they’re more diligent than I thought, I can pull out my innocent ‘this is all a mixup’ wide-eyed act and fool anyone who checks up long enough to slip away.
    I hop on the huge bed and hesitate briefly before figuring what the hell—might as well go for it all.
    I order room service.
    I kind of want to invite Taylor over, but part of me is enjoying the extended solitude.
    Before I start partying it up with Taylor, it’s nice to have a quiet celebration for myself—sipping champagne, laying out on a soft, king-sized bed surrounded by creature comforts and luxuries, lazily flipping through the channels… I actually can’t think of a better birthday present to myself.
    All that’s missing is some hottie warming my bed for a bit, someone who can work my body on this king-sized bed that I can kick out the next morning.
    Instead, I get to work out a plan for my other goal—to reunite with my mom, whom I tracked down here.
    She doesn’t know I’m coming, and I haven’t told Taylor about it, but I’m trying not to make a big deal about the whole thing; I basically just want to say hi.
    I figure it’s been almost ten years, and I’m a grown woman now, so she’s free of any responsibilities.
    But maybe she wants to know that I turned out okay.
    Plus I’d like to refresh my memory of her face, her form, her scent.
    I don’t remember when the details started fading away, but without seeing her and no photos of her left with me, she’s disappearing in a way, and I don’t want that to happen.
    Abandonment aside, even just the memory of her, the recollection of her pretty blue eyes brings me comfort sometimes.
    I know she exists, and she’s still alive, so I’m never totally alone.
    I head for the bathroom, trying to decide between hitting the shower or the Jacuzzi first.

    * * *
    A s I’m exiting the bathroom with the