(Extended Blurb Inside!)
Strap on your seatbelts as you ride along this riveting romance through the eyes of Ronnie and Harper, our two heroines that are determined to defy the odds thrown at them.
One possessive, bold pilot. One sweet, flirty heir...
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RONNIE
"Y'all saw what she was wearing just now? Almost exactly like the dress she was wearing that night. Hot damn. She may have laid there like a dead fish, but we had some fun. No questions with a tight bitch like that."
I've never wanted to throw up as much I did at the moment. Bile was burning a path up my throat in quick succession, the mocktails I've had throughout the night churning up a storm in my stomach. How could simple, put together words be so vile and disgusting to hear?
After my shaking hands twisted the cap of the bottled water, I gulped a mouthful hoping to soothe the unease building inside me. I couldn't help but wonder, what were the odds of us running into this specific motherfucker not a week after hearing the whole story? Slim to none I'd have said but here we were.
To add insult to injury, he was lying. He had the audacity only a sorry excuse of a man could possess to lie about sleeping with someone and even make up details like a true incel. I was livid. My head turned to the right, and I looked at him. His stupid, smug face, yakking on about some fabricated BS like he wasn't a borderline rapist.
"Fun, huh? What was that I saw online then? She slapped the shit outta you the morning after!" another friend of his chimed in.
"Naaah, we just argued that morning. What you saw's just the usual over-exaggeration those gossip writers like to do to sell stories. And well, you know. Women," Kyle Santino brushed off. He then turned his head in my direction, saw me looking and smirked.
"What ya' looking at, gorgeous?"
I had to unhand the bottle quickly before it burst from my death grip. Schooling my expression to hide the utter disgust I was feeling, I smiled coyly and batted my lashes a bit. "Nothing..." I muttered, shyly looking away from him.
His smirk only grew in size, as was his ego undoubtedly. "Sure, sure." Ignoring his friends' new conversation, the guy focused his attention on me. "You here with someone? If you don't got a man, can I buy you a drink or something?"
Mr. Nice Guy, right. I remembered. If one didn't know any better, they would've said yes. Calling you gorgeous and offering to buy you a drink only if you weren't taken, he seemed nothing more than a gentleman. Unfortunately for him, I knew better. With that in mind, entertaining him under false pretenses was what I did next, maintaining a sweet, soft tone. I was an expert at hiding my disdain and keeping my cool, after all, it was practically written in my job description in invisible ink.
"Nope. No man." Technically not a lie. "Can I hold you to that drink though? I'll be right back."
"I'll be waiting, gorgeous." He winked.
Oh, so many things I wanted to do to him. Introduce him to my fist topped that list. But as I disappeared back into the dancing crowd and felt his beady eyes tracing my form, I hesitated. Was it really worth it, going through with my spontaneously concocted plan to lure him into a corner and give him a taste of the bottom of my Louboutin heels? It sounded great in theory, but maybe I was just letting my feelings get the best of me. Maybe a guy like that deserved not an ounce of my energy.
