Crave (His Second Chance with Heiress Bryn Christmas Duet #1) - Z.L. Arkadie Page 0,9

that had a glass-top roof showcasing a view of the gray sky. Like most Hollywood actresses, Eden was classically beautiful, with light-blue eyes, which were striking in combination with her tousled chestnut hair. Beneath her round and high cheekbones was a wide mouth that made it impossible to miss her smile, even the pensive one she held as I walked into her house. I felt as if I’d interrupted her in the middle of trying to complete one last task before my arrival.

“Did you have any trouble finding the house?” she asked, scratching the back of her head.

I smiled. “Not at all. I used the navigational system just in case, but you don’t live that far from my family’s property.”

“Oh, the Christmases are my neighbors?”

I chuckled. “I guess so.” There was no use explaining that we owned hundreds of multimillion-dollar properties all over the world, all purchased by Randolph, who’d used them as his sex lairs.

She squeezed her palms together as if nervous about something. “Wow, so it’s finally happening. We’re going to do this.”

I frowned, concerned. “Did I catch you at a bad time or something?”

“Hey, hon,” a guy said.

I jerked myself into a straight position. There was no way in the world I was hearing who I thought I heard. The guy was behind me, and Eden was watching him.

“I see that the interior designer’s late but here,” he said. “I guess that counts for something.”

The voice. I knew it, and I knew it well. Holy crap.

“Hey, babe,” Eden said in her lackluster tone.

I turned my head slowly, feeling as if it was time for the big reveal on a game show. Then I saw him. My stomach tightened in disbelief as I inhaled sharply. I was looking into the eyes of my ex-boyfriend from hell, Dale Rumor.

Chapter Four

Bryn Christmas

My eyes felt as if they were spewing enough fire to scorch Dale Rumor alive. I wanted to ask why he was there, but the words would not come out. Dale wrapped an arm around Eden’s tiny waist and looked at me as if he’d never seen me before in his life.

“Can I get you anything—coffee, tea, water…?” he asked.

I could have choked with embarrassment, not for me but for Eden. I knew what came after “water.” It had been a habit of his to say, “Coffee, tea, water, or me?” He only proved he was the same scoundrel of a boyfriend for Eden that he’d been for me.

“I’m fine,” I said, glaring at him. I didn’t like the emotions I was having.

I could have bet a million bucks he’d orchestrated the present situation without her knowledge. He was sneaky in that way. He’d put me in a severely awkward position. I didn’t hate Dale, but no one could push my buttons like he could. The last time we’d seen each other, we fought because he’d decided to fire me from the film project we were both producing. I screamed—admittedly crazily—that he couldn’t do that because we had a contract.

He told me I should have read the fine print. “Plus, working together isn’t working, Bryn. It’s ruining us, and you know that.”

“You’re ruining us,” I shouted and then called him every derogatory name in the book.

He called me a nutjob who had extreme rapist-father daddy issues. Then I jumped and clung to him like a spider monkey and clawed at his face. He pulled me off him and held me down.

One of our neighbors had called the police, and when they arrived, I was still yelling and screaming that I was going to kill him. While I was trying to spit on Dale, my spittle landed on one of the officers, and they arrested me for disturbing the peace. When they put me in the back of the squad car, I was lethargic and unable to stop crying. One of the officers thought I was high on drugs, but I wasn’t. I was merely having another mental and emotional breakdown.

My memory of that night remained foggy, to a certain extent, but I recalled one of the officers saying that they weren’t taking me to the rich people’s station—I was going to Twin Towers in downtown LA. One of them mentioned my pretty little face that liked to spit.

One of them said something about saving my spit for a blow job. “Is that what you like to do?”

His tone was salacious, aggressive. He said that he would teach me a lesson. He had no idea how much I wanted to