Page 69 of The Good Girl

“Finish that sentence and die.”

“Touchy motherfucker,” Toot grumbles under his breath.

“I can’t find you.” Crane looks up from his phone and narrows his eyes.

“I’m lying. I’m actually a stripper. My stage name’s Heaven Leigh.”

“Shit, is that true?”

“No.” I shake my head and grin. “I was an escort. It’s where I met Havoc. He was a client I used to see in prison for conjugal visits, so imagine our surprise when we bumped into each other at the clubhouse.”

He drops his phone as his mouth falls open in shock.

I look back at Havoc and laugh. “Please tell me he’s not the brains of the operation.”

The guys laugh loudly as I turn back to Crane and give him an innocent smile. I lean forward and wait until he does the same, as if I’m bestowing a big secret on him.

“I met Havoc two weeks after I woke up with him inside me, stealing my virginity in the middle of night. Then he kidnapped me and held me hostage, all in the hopes of making me fall in love with him.”

Crane shakes his head and laughs. “Nice try, but I’m not falling for another one of your stories.”

Havoc chuckles behind me, burying his face in my hair and I smile.

“Anyway, you won’t find me under my real name. Try looking up Celeste Sky.”

He bends down to pick his phone up, and I wait while he Googles me. Mac and Toot head toward the door after phoning the restaurant and placing everyone’s orders.

“Call in if anything seems off,” Havoc tells them.

“Will do,” Toot calls back as they leave.

“Holy shit.” Crane says, looking at me in shock.

I just grin. “I don’t know how to say this, but I’m kind of a big deal.”

“And she quotesAnchorman,” he whispers reverently.

“If you don’t stop looking at her like that, Crane, you’ll end up with more than stars in your eyes,” Havoc warns him.

“I don’t suppose I could talk you into sharing, like our former president?” He ducks as Havoc throws my empty mug at him. “So that’s a no then?”

“You must have a death wish.” Kruger chuckles, picking up the cup, that luckily didn’t break, and placing it in the sink.

“Tell me about this Ambros guy.”

“I told you, I met him on the plane to London. He was nice.”

Havoc growls, and I turn to look at him. “What’s your problem?”

“I don’t like other men texting you,” Havoc grumbles.

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re not my daddy. I’ve had it up to here with controlling men, so if you would rather I don’t sprinklearsenic all over your food, you’ll learn to trust me and swallow down any accusations your brain might conjure up. I’m not a cheat. I’m not Lola and won’t pay for her sins.”

I go to climb off his lap, but he grips my hips.

“Not accusing you of anything, cupcake, but I’m a guy. I know what guys see when they look at you, and I’m not okay with that.”

“What do you mean? What do they see?”

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