by Cassie Cross
CONTENTS
Other Titles by Cassie Cross
Dirty Little Secrets
Title Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Currently available titles by Cassie Cross:
Stand alone titles:
Meeting Mr. Wright
Series:
The Billionaire’s Desire:
The Billionaire’s Desire: The Complete Series
The Billionaire’s Desire: The Billionaire’s Christmas (A Companion Novella)
The Billionaire’s Best Friend
Quickies:
Quickies Series Volume One: Three Billionaire Romances
Dirty Little Secrets
Text copyright © 2015 Cassie Cross
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used fictitiously. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, weather electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of Cassie Cross.
Dirty Little Secrets
By Cassie Cross
CHAPTER ONE
“You look so hot in that dress. I just want to put my mouth all over you.”
The voice comes from behind me, and is too close to my ear for its owner to be talking to anyone but me. I steady myself for the reveal, because I know that when I turn around to let this guy off easy, I’m going to be looking into the face of a disgusting, smarmy barfly who thinks that’s the kind of compliment that’s going to get me to go home with him.
No “Hello, nice to meet you.” No “Let me buy you a drink.” He just goes straight for the kill, which I suppose is a blessing. At least I know what he wants from me right away.
I shift uncomfortably in my seat in the middle of the not-so-crowded hotel bar, and turn to face the man who just spoke to me. He reeks of booze, even though happy hour is still in its infancy. He’s disheveled and greasy, and he’s looking at me like I’m some kind of dessert. My gaze drifts over his shoulder, looking around to see if I notice anyone suspicious. He could be some kind of a decoy to distract me, for all I know.
I don’t get any bad vibes from anyone in the room, apart from this guy, and there’s no way I’m giving him the time of day. That’s bad news for him, because I’m probably the most desperate woman he’ll find in this bar tonight. Hell, I might just be the most desperate woman in the city. I’m on the run from a dangerous man who probably wants me dead. I’m low on cash, and scared I’ll run out before I figure a way out of the mess I’ve managed to get myself into, and I don’t know where I’ll be staying after tomorrow night.
Despite all that, even I’m not desperate enough to go home with this guy, even if it will buy me a few hours of oblivion and a little bit of safety.
With the toe of my shoe, I shift my bag beneath my barstool, making sure it’s still there. I’ve got one of its straps wrapped around my ankle, so I’ll know if anyone tries to take it. I’m hyper-vigilant about theft of my belongings anyway, but everything I managed to pack before I hastily left my apartment in Chicago is in this bag.
It’s all I’ve got for now, so I’ve got to keep a close eye on it. If I lose it, I might as well turn myself over to the man who is looking for me. His name is Andre Privya, and it’s not a question of if he’ll find me, it’s when. I’m just hoping that I’ll be able to come up with a way to get myself out of his crosshairs before that inevitable moment comes.
“Did you hear what I said?” Douchebag asks.
I left Chicago three days ago under the cloak of night, and I’ve been here in Manhattan ever since. In that time, I think my fight-or-flight response has served me well. This guy doesn’t exactly scream “hitman” to me, but I know I should steer clear of him if only because he seems like a gross, terrible person.
“I did,” I reply, stirring my drink. I’ve got to keep a close eye on that, and make sure he doesn’t slip me something. He seems like the type who would. “I’m flattered, but I’m not interested.”
Douchebag looks annoyed, like I expected he would, but he isn’t willing to back down just yet. “Let me buy you a drink and see if I can change your mind.”
I look him right in the eyes and say, “No.”
He’s got this smirk on his stupid, smarmy face, and I know he thinks that I’m playing hard to get. He thinks this is game, and he’s sure he’s going to win. “Bartender,” he says, raising his hand.
I shake my head. “No. I don’t want a drink.”
“C’mon, just-”
“She said no.” A hand claps down hard on Douchebag’s shoulder, right before he is whirled around to face what has to be one of the handsomest men I’ve ever seen in my life. Handsome and full of righteous anger, which I’m finding incredibly attractive, I’m not ashamed to admit. “Do you understand what ‘no’ means?”
Douchebag nods shakily. “Y-yes.”
“Then why are you still standing here?”
Just like that, Douchebag hightails it out of the bar, and into the hotel’s lobby.
“Is everything okay?” This gorgeous man is looking at me with such concern in his soulful green eyes, and I can’t seem to find my voice.
All I can do is nod slowly, taking in the view before me. He is really, incredibly tall. And from the looks of it, he’s broad and muscular, but unfortunately his well-tailored suit is hiding a lot of the aforementioned muscles, just giving me the slightest hint of what is waiting below in the way it hugs his body. He has a head full of light brown hair with a few highlights mixed in, like he has just spent some time out in the sun. His eyes are friendly, and way too easy to get lost in.
I shouldn’t be getting lost in anyone’s eyes right now; it could be dangerous. Strangely, though, I don’t feel like I’m in danger with him.
“Yes,” I finally manage to say. “I’m fine. Thank you for that.”
He smiles, and that smile is too easy to get lost in, as well. Why did this stupidly beautiful man have to show up here, now, when I absolutely cannot afford to let myself get swept off of my feet? Why couldn’t I have met someone like him in Chicago? If I hadn’t left town, if I hadn’t done such an id
iotic, dangerous thing…
“You have nothing to thank me for,” he replies. “I hate that we live in a world where my ‘no’ carries more weight than yours does.”
Oh, he’s good. It’s a little difficult to get a read on him, but I don’t think he’s feeding me a line here. I want to believe him, that much is true.
“I’m going to grab a drink. Can I get you anything?”
“No,” I reply, tapping my glass. “I’m good, thank you.”
“Would you like some company, or-”
“Yes,” I reply without even a moment’s hesitation. “I’d love some company.” He’s handsome and friendly, and I suppose it’s better to be safe than sorry, just in case the guy who was just hitting on me decides to come back. I’d also like to be in this man’s presence for a little while longer, strange as that seems. I’m just not ready for him to leave yet.
“What’s your name?” he asks.
“Mia.” Immediately I wonder if I should’ve given him a fake name. That probably would’ve been the smart thing to do, but it’s too late now.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mia,” he says, offering me his hand. I reach out and take it, feeling a little thrill shoot through me when we touch. “I’m Caleb.”
“It’s nice to meet you.”
“I’ll be right back,” he tells me, his hand lingering in mine until he absolutely has to pull away.
My stomach swoops as he walks away, and I’m in trouble, I know it. It’s not the kind of trouble I’ve been running away from for the past three days, though; it’s the kind of trouble that makes me want to run toward it, full speed, even though I know it’s probably a terrible idea.
While Caleb walks over to the other side of the bar, he watches me out of the corner of his eye. I’m not sure if he’s doing it because he thinks I’m going to get up and walk away, or because he wants to make sure the guy who was hitting on me doesn’t return. Either way, I feel comforted in a way that I haven’t since I figured out that Privya and his goons were onto me, and I needed to get out of Chicago as soon as possible.
Caleb glances my way from the bar, and he smiles at me. It’s not the sweet, helpful smile that he gave me earlier, when he was dispatching the douchebag. No, this smile has heat behind it; it makes the hairs on my arms stand on end with anticipation. This smile makes me want him. Badly.
Despite my body’s apparent desire to get completely swept up by this man’s charms and looks, my mind keeps replaying this niggling thought that this could be some kind of trap. Maybe I’m not as on top of Privya and his whereabouts as I think I am. My computer skills are stellar—which is how I got myself into this mess in the first place—but there’s the slightest chance that I’m wrong about where he is. I’ve been planting false trails around Chicago to fool him into thinking that I haven’t left town. What if he’s doing the same?
I’m reasonably sure that Privya wouldn’t go so far as to have one of his men hit on me in a bar. If he has enough intel on me to know I’m staying in this hotel, then he’d just show up at my door and kidnap me or something. Men like him don’t have much finesse, they just see their objective and take aim. Besides, any professional criminal would never leave me alone, giving me the chance to escape, while he went to the bar to get himself some scotch.
No, this is just a handsome man with a good streak in him. I shouldn’t look into it any more than that.
I catch Caleb’s eye while he’s in the middle of a conversation with the bartender that I can tell he desperately wants to get out of. I attempt a seductive slide off of my barstool, if such a thing is even possible, then reach down and grab my bag. Caleb’s face brightens when he sees me heading his way, and I can feel him watching me. It’s not the look of a man who is after me for things that I’ve done, it’s the look of a man who wants to do things to me. Filthy, wonderful things. The look is…it’s too much. It sends a jolt of anticipatory panic through my veins, and like a coward, I take a detour and head left.
Right into the ladies’ room.
There isn’t anyone in here, thankfully, and I take a second to stare at my reflection in the mirror. With chocolate brown hair, hazel eyes, and my head held high, no one would take me for a coward. No one would take me for a criminal, either, though I’m definitely one of those now. Even though I stole from a terrible person for noble reasons, I’m still a thief, aren’t I?
An impulsive, cowardly thief.
I have a man who is looking at me like he wants to devour me, and I walk into the bathroom? How I’ve ever managed to get laid is beyond me.
I want to go back to the bar and talk to Caleb. I want to see where this thing between us goes. I need this. I need the stress relief. I want it, too. I want to lose myself in the arms of a handsome stranger, even if it is just for one night.
Running my fingers through my hair, I take a deep, cleansing breath. What do I have to lose if I spend one night with him?
As long as he’s not one some kind of a decoy, absolutely nothing.
No, he’s not a decoy. He’s not. I know it in my bones.
I readjust my bag on my shoulder before I make my way back into the bar. I don’t see Caleb at first, but then I feel his fingertips slide along the crook inside my elbow. The touch is light, but full of intent. He wants me to turn around, but he doesn’t want to force it.
I stop—of course I stop—and he moves in, like he’s going to tell me a secret.
Whatever it is he has to say, I have never wanted to hear something so badly in my entire life.
“Don’t walk away from me, Mia,” he whispers. His voice is low and firm, but there’s an undercurrent of pleading in it.
I couldn’t walk away if I tried.
CHAPTER TWO
“You have really nice hands,” I say, before I can stop myself. “It was nice when you touched me.” I shake my head as I try to get my stupid, nervous mouth under control. “What I mean is that it felt good, like…never mind.”
“Mia,” Caleb laughs, leaning in close. Just the way he says my name sends a thrill to all the right places, and his hot breath on my skin combined with the way his lips brush the shell of my ear make me shiver. “You have no idea how good my hands can feel.”
I take a deep breath, not daring to look at him. I’m a little weak, and I’m worried that I’m going to embarrass myself, because I know that Caleb felt me tremble just now.
“Are you here with someone?” he asks.
Does he want to know if I came to the bar with someone, or if I’m here at the hotel with someone? I suppose it doesn’t matter either way, because the answer is, “No.”
His lips lift up into a grin at my answer, and I lean in a little closer, wanting to be near the warmth of his body. He smells good, and he’s so gorgeous; it’s like every single cell in my body is a magnet, pulling me to him. I want to wrap my arms around him, I want to bury my face in his neck and breathe deep. I can’t even bring myself to worry about the fact that I’m practically intoxicated by this man that I’ve only just met. It’s insane, and yet here I am.
“Are you here with anyone?”
“No.”
I grin, kind of like he did just now.
“Your smile is gorgeous,” he says.
My apparently gorgeous smile grows bigger. “My dad paid a lot of money or it,” I say. I immediately want to smack my hand over my mouth, because I’m drunk on pheromones, and I’m going to wind up making a huge fool of myself because of it. “I mean, he didn’t pay for veneers or anything; these are my actual teeth. I meant braces. He paid for braces.” I shake my head once I finally stop talking, feeling the blush rising in my cheeks. I want to duck behind the bar and hide, but I’ll settle for bringing my hands up to my face to act as a shield because I’m so embarrassed.
There’s a shift in the air. I can tell that Caleb is moving closer, and then his arm brushes mine. “Don’t do that,” he says, his voice rough in my ear. He crooks his fingers around my wrists and gives them a gentle tug
. “Don’t cover your face.”
I can’t deny his request, and when my hands drop to my sides, I give him a smile. It’s almost too much to believe that this beautiful man is as into me as I’m into him, even though he’s saying all the right things, and looking at me with unbridled heat in his eyes.
When he reaches up and slides his thumb across my cheekbone, it’s like the smallest touch sets my skin on fire.
“Beautiful,” Caleb whispers, like it’s a secret between the two of us.
“You’re good at this.” My voice sounds more affected than I expected it to, and the flash of lust in Caleb’s eyes lets me know that he noticed it.
“Good at what?”
I playfully roll my eyes. I’m practically putty in his hands, and he’s acting like he doesn’t know what I’m talking about. “You know, the whole seduction thing.”
He flashes that killer smile, and I’m expecting that the next words out of his mouth are going to be utterly, ridiculously cocky.
“I like you,” is all he says. No smooth line, just straight and to the point.
“You haven’t known me long enough to know if you like me.” That is totally not true, but if he knew the reason why I’m here in this hotel, in this city, he probably wouldn’t like me very much. Especially since Caleb exudes the kind of confidence that only rich men seem to have. I’m guessing he wouldn’t be too impressed if I told him that in an impulsive moment of anger, I fancied myself a modern-day Robin Hood.
“I have known you long enough, and I do like you.”
I’m choosing to believe him, because why not? If this thing goes anywhere, it’s one night at most. It would be a nice respite, and a reprieve from the running. He is way, way out of my league, so I would be foolish not to take this chance while I have it. I reach out and take Caleb’s hand, and if he’s shocked by that, he doesn’t let on. I turn it in my grip, and uncurl his fingers, bringing the back of his hand to rest against my thigh. My fingertip traces the lines that stretch across his palm. His hands are calloused, something I wasn’t expecting from a man wearing such a nice suit. I figured typing was the most work he did with his hands, but now I want to feel the roughness of them gliding across the planes of my body.