by Natalie Wrye
We open the penthouse doors, exploring beyond them for her. But still, no sight of the precocious kid anywhere.
A familiar panic starts to set in, but then she appears in the apartment door. Same sandy hair. Same playful wide smile.
Same green eyes as Sevin.
Only these ones are held wide in disgust, her pretty nose wrinkled as she stares up at us, seeming so much older than her eight years. She cocks her hands on her tiny hips before petting the fur ball at her feet.
“I went to the fourteenth floor to check out the laundry room. I heard it had a vending machine with sweets.” Her brows lower. “But then the elevator opened. And then basically stopped.” She stares. “I think I heard your voices on it. And this was so much worse than last time.”
I swear… I hear my bottom lip hit the floor. My mouth gapes.
“Next time you guys want to do gross things,” Charlie continues, “can you get a hotel? You’re scaring poor Felix. Which is probably why he was sick the first time.”
She spins away, and Sevin and I have no choice but to gape at each other.
My gorgeous boyfriend shrugs, saying the only sentence you can in this situation. “My daughter’s better at games than I am.”
I agree, nodding as I reach for him, knowing we’ll never be able to keep up with her. Not in a million years of regulation and rules. I grin. “Well played.”
There’s more scandals, secrets and steam to dive into.
Are you ready to spend another night in Chicago?
*
Read on to FIND OUT what happens when Sevin’s best friend Sawyer Kennedy find himself in a salacious scandal of his own…and the only person he can rely on to help him get out of it is his favorite enemy (and tempting new assistant), Naomi in THE PACT.
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Sneak Peek of THE PACT
NAOMI
Four weeks later
“So… You’re just worried about me leaving in the middle of night, then? We didn’t… I mean, you and I… We hadn’t…”
“Slept together?” Waiting, he says nothing for a full five seconds, his silence driving me absolutely insane. “No,” he states after a few tense seconds. “Of course we didn’t. Why would you think that?”
“I don’t know. I just…don’t really remember much from tonight. And then I wake up here. In a bed. Your bed. And you had my underwear, and I…”
Pretty much hoped that we had. Hoped that maybe I was brave or bold enough to bed you.
Hoped maybe for once in structure-filled life that I’d broken the rules and slept with someone who couldn’t give a shit about them.
Sawyer grins as if he can hear my thoughts, the expression beautiful. I bite my lip. “These aren’t your underwear from tonight,” he declares. “These…were the ones you left at the party. You know, when you got up and nearly sprinted away… I laundered them myself.” He pulls them from his back pocket, handing them over to me. “If you don’t believe me, don’t take my word for it. Reach down into your pants and check yourself. I’m sure you’ll find the underwear you wore tonight completely intact.” The grin turns into a frown. “I don’t make moves on unconscious women.”
“No, you just hold them prisoner in your palace-sized bedrooms, is that it?” I shrug off the question as soon as it’s out of my mouth, needing space.
Needing to remember that when I cross this line with Sawyer that it just has to be about sex.
Just sex. Nothing more.
I push my body off of the door. “You know what, never mind. I’ll stay.” I start walking past him. “But you’d better have the good streaming services in that guest bedroom of yours or else I’ll have to…”
I barely make it past him before Sawyer stops me, his hand shooting out. He grabs my wrist, the small piece of my body minuscule in his hands, and it takes everything in me not to clasp my hand over it, to lean into more of his addictive touch the way I want to.
I glance up at him.
“I, uh, sorry about that,” he declares slowly as he lets me go, the words thick coming off his tongue. “Didn’t mean to grab you. I just…needed to talk. See, I didn’t get a chance to explain earlier…that some of my intentions with showing up at the bar weren’t entirely pure.”
“They weren’t?” I can’t hear my own words, my heart is thumping so hard.
Sawyer lifts his chin, his bearded jaw jutting in my direction, begging for my fingers. “No, they weren’t. You see, it’s sort of like this. I kinda…” He shrugs, his muscles shifting with the movement, catching my eye. “I kinda need your help. In fact, I know I do.”
My eyes go wide up at him, and I make an attempt to keep them on his face, instead of roaming down to his naked abs. I take a deep breath. “You need… my help?”
“Yes.” He blinks, still not moving.
“Not the kind of help involving electric shock therapy and men with stethoscopes in white uniforms?”
Start reading Naomi + Sawyer’s winding and sexy story in THE PACT, releasing September 18th, 2020!
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Also by Natalie Wrye
THE GAFANELLI MOB SERIES
The Bodyguard
The Investigator
The Imposter
The Enforcer
—
The Gafanelli Mob Series: Novels 1-3
THE HATING HIM SERIES
Hating The Boss
Hating The Best Man
Hating The Player
—
The Hating Him Box Set
THE MANHATTAN NIGHTS SERIES
The Vow
The Bet
The Deal
The Kiss
The Note
—
Manhattan Nights (Novels 1-3) Box Set
THE CHICAGO NIGHTS SERIES
The Play
The Pact (September 18th, 2020)
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About the Author
Natalie Wrye is a reader, writer and tequila lover best known for writing heart-of-gold alpha males, suspenseful big city romance and characters you'll love rooting for.
A notebook hoarder whose books have been featured on USA Today's HEA and PopSugar, when she's not watching Netflix re-runs or yelling at college basketball games on TV, she's usually crafting sexy suspenseful stories about hard-bodied, take-charge heroes and the strong-willed women who crave them.
She loves it when people get weird with her on Facebook, NatalieWrye.com or [email protected].
Contents
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
28. Epilogue
29. Sneak Peek of THE PACT
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Also by Natalie Wrye
Connect with Natalie Wrye
About the Author