Wrong (#1) Read Online Free Book L.P. Lovell, Stevie J. Cole

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Bad Boy, Contemporary, Crime, Dark, Erotic, New Adult, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: , Series: Wrong Series by L.P. Lovell
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Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 87961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
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I roll my bottom lip underneath my teeth, and bit down, fighting to maintain my calm. “You took a person”—I point at the girl—“as collateral?”

My heart repeatedly slams against my chest, a tingly heat spreading across my body from anger. This motherfucker is stupid as hell. I really want to beat the shit out of him, ram his head against the wall a few good times, but I clear my throat instead, and point my finger at the door. “Get out! I’ll deal with you later.” I manage to keep my tone completely calm, which is, to anyone who knows me, worse than any shouting.

He doesn’t say a word, he just turns, shutting the door behind him as he leaves.

I snatch my shirt from the floor and wipe the sweat from my body. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I inhale deeply before I turn around to look at her. Blonde mussed hair hangs over part of her face, she has a nasty black bruise on one cheek, and she’s staring at the floor, visibly trembling.

I need a drink to handle this shit right here. I shake my head, scratch over my stubbled jaw, and reach for the whiskey. My eyes lock onto hers as I top off the drink. I take a sip, then set the glass on the edge of the desk. Her gaze follows my every move as I grab a cigarette, place it to my lips, and flick the lighter. I take a long drag and slowly blow the smoke in her direction, the light grey cloud blanketing her.

What the fuck am I gonna do with this girl?

She hasn’t stood up. She hasn’t moved a muscle. I lean against the desk, and take another drag, blowing a plume of smoke at her again. She coughs weakly. She’s staring at me like I’m some fucking caged animal that’s been let loose.

“Hmm,” I mumble, balling up my shirt as I push off the desk and walk toward her. The closer I get to her, the bigger her eyes grow. I squat in front of her and pull in another puff. The gag is so tight the material’s cutting into her skin. The least I could do is take it off. Gripping the cigarette between my lips, I reach around the back of her head and unfasten the knot. The cloth falls from her face, revealing a swollen and bloodied lip. He fucking hit her? I’m gonna kill him for this. I brush my finger over her wounded lip, and she jerks away.

“I demand that you let me go,” she says, glaring at me.

I cock a brow at her as a slight smile pulls at my lips. Feisty and British. I won’t pretend the accent doesn’t do something for me. I rise and turn my back to her. “I wish I could.”

“This has nothing to do with me. Your stupid guy took me against my will. Your argument is with Euan, not me.” She’s trying her damnedest to sound strong, but I can hear the slight tremor in her voice. Yeah, she’s pissed, but it’s obvious that she’s scared, and judging by the state of her face, she should be.

I cross my arms over my chest and lean against the edge of the desk as I take puff after puff, stewing over how fucked up this shit is. After a brief moment of silence, I say, “But you’re here, so unfortunately, doll, it now has everything to do with you.”

She hangs her head, leaving it bowed as she lifts her gaze to mine. “Please.” Her voice trembles. “This is a misunderstanding. Please, just let me go,” she chokes.

A sensation I’m not all too familiar with creeps through me, but I swallow that uncomfortable feeling down. There is no room in my world for guilt.

“Now, as much as I’d like to just let you leave, you see, when Euan decided to hand you over to me, you became part of that debt. I’m sure you’ll understand why I can’t let you go, huh?” I shrug. “Don’t take it personally or anything. It’s just business.”

I watch as the gravity of her situation sinks in. Her eyes slowly drop to the floor, and she pulls in a ragged breath like she’s about to burst into sobs. “Please,” she whispers again. She looks so small and vulnerable, it forces me to look away from her.

She may be just a girl, but she is in my house, and unfortunately for her and that dipshit, Richard, she’s now seen my face. She’s a security risk at the very least. “You play nice, your boyfriend pays up, and I’ll let you go unharmed.”

Her gaze narrows. Those eyes of hers are so bloodshot, and all that does is make the deep blue of her irises pop. “Who are you?” she asks, hushed.


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