When the Heart Lies Read Free Page B

a distorted take on their relationship. There was nothing between them, but a twenty-year age difference, lies, and his constant threats against Max’s safety, which made leaving him terrifying. There was no way of knowing how valid his threats were. Whatever she had do to keep Max safe, she’d do. But first, she had to figure out how to get the hell away from Wayde and she had to get some money together to make it happen.
     

Chapter 2
     
     
     
     
     
    Nick lay flat, eyes to the ceiling and naked, on the rumpled designer sheets of the king-size bed in the guestroom of his and Kinsley’s home. He’d spent most of his nights in that room since she left town. It’d been over six months since they were together. Catching sight of the picture of them on the bedside table, his face fell flat. The empty bottle of scotch that lay beside it dripped the remaining amber liquid onto the cream-colored carpet.
    With dull melancholy eyes, he lightly swatted the picture down and returned his attention to the big breasted someone or other he hooked up with the previous night. She rode his fully impaled member with a smile. He grabbed her hips and ground himself into her hard a few times, finishing.
    “Yeah, yeah baby, that feels so good.” Her voice sounded like a squealing pig. She leaned down to kiss him, and he gave her his neck. “You’re something else, handsome. Tell me your name.” She ran her fingers through his shiny black curls and tousled them playfully.
    From age fourteen, he was far too handsome for his own good. Women both older and younger were captivated by his tall, athletic appearance and dark Greek characteristics descending from his mother’s side of the family. Sadly, if not for the admiration of the women who desired him and the men who were envious, it’d be questionable if he’d see himself as a man of value at all.
    He slapped the woman on the ass and pushed her aside. As he sat up, he braced his arms on the side of the bed. His face screwed up in the same way it would if he’d accidentally swallowed a big gulp of sour milk from the carton. The booze was getting to him. On her knees, the woman crawled from where he’d dumped her and wrapped her arms around him. They hung from his neck, and her huge breasts pushed against his back as she babbled on.
    “I’ve got to get ready for work. Just see yourself out.” After removing her arms from his neck and tossing the used condom into the trash, he stood, snatching her clothes from the floor and tossing them to her. He fished his wallet from his pants lying beside the bed and handed her three hundred dollars.
    Her mouth dropped open, and her face contorted. “Hey asshole, I’m no whore.”
    His eyes narrowed as he assessed her. Lifting his chin, he delivered a flippant dismissal. “Of course not.”
    She looked at the money, gave him the finger, and left. She kept it. They always kept it. And it cleared his conscience.
    When the resonating slam of the front door subsided, he sat hunched over on the side of the bed. He held the photograph of him and Kinsley in his hand and stared intently as he tapped it repeatedly into his open palm. The blare of the alarm clock broke the monotony, and he returned the picture to the table. His fingers outlined the edges with a delicate caress. With his next breath, he swatted the thing down again and left the room.
    Once showered, he dressed and went downstairs for some breakfast: Wheaties, the preferred Breakfast of Champions and lonely, ditched men. Noticing a blinking voicemail alert, he picked up the phone. There was always the possibility it could be Kinsley. It was his mother.
    “I drove by on my way to the hairdressers this morning. I noticed your car in the driveway. Your father and I are having dinner with the Ericson’s tonight at the club. Come by if you like. Drinks at seven-thirty, dinner’s at eight. Love you.”
    He sifted through the pile of mail on the counter and ran his fingers over the