Page 1 of Good Girl

Chapter 1

Emery

Twenty. Motherfucking. Thousand. Dollars.

I sit—emotionally numb—in the back seat of the cab as it pulls into the parking lot for the on-campus student housing at Newton University.

Who the hell are these bastards that they have thirty K—including the ten from tonight—to blow on a living sex doll forthe weekend? They don’t give off gang vibes. Well, Xavier tips the scale the smallest amount with the blood thing, but no. You don’t see gang members wandering around in tailored suit pants.

The mob, maybe? Is that even still a thing? Even then, the thought of them being criminals doesn’t sit right. I’ve spent most of my life surrounded by the slime of Chicago; Derek, Hudson, Darcy, and Xavier don’t give off the same vibe.

Daddy.

Viper.

Angel.

Hunter.

I mentally run through the names that I gave the men I just spent the last two hours with, letting them use my body in ways I’ve never even thought about. And now they want me to give myself to them for the entire weekend.

“Excuse me, miss?”

I startle at the cab driver’s heavily accented voice as it pierces the void that has surrounded us for the entire trip from the hotel to here.

Our eyes connect in his mirror, then he turns to look at me, concern written all over his face. “Are you okay? Do you need help?”

I choke on my laughter because, yes? No? I have no fucking clue.

If he asked me that after any other sexual encounter I’ve had, I probably would have answered with ano, when I should have saidyes.

But this time? I want to answer withyes, but I should sayno.

I feel like I’m fracturing from the inside out. They tore me apart at the seams, rearranged the pieces, and put me back together in a jumbled-up mess that somehow feels right.

More right than just a few hours ago.

“I’m . . . fine,” I reply, because what else can I say?

Sorry I’m a touch spacy right now. I just let four strange men, double my age, rail me into the mattress until my soul was wrenched from my body?

He actually turns around and looks at me through the plastic divider, dark eyebrows pulled together over dark eyes. “Are you sure?”

Am I sure?

Not really, no. But I also don’t think that I’m not fine. So...

“Yeah, I’m sure. Thank you for the ride.” I gather my things and get out of the cab.

When I glance back in, I can tell he wants to say more, so I just wave and shut the door before heading toward the gate that opens to the student apartments.

Black lampposts line the way, the golden glow from the old-school lantern-like fixtures lighting my way down what would otherwise be a very dark path because of the thick trees that create a canopy against the wall of the buildings.

I dash up the outer staircase and swipe my security token against the black panel screwed into the wall. The little light above the handle flicks to green, and I pull the door open and launch myself up the two flights of carpeted stairs to my apartment door.

Swiping the token again, I wait for the door to engage, then push into the room. For some reason, I’m shocked when I find the lights and TV on. I expected Oakley to be asleep. But, really, it’s barely even ten on a Friday night.

Speak of the devil—I spot her sitting on the couch, a scoop of ice cream inches from her mouth as she stares back at me. An ad for toothpaste plays on the TV as her face twists in confusion. “You’re home early.”

---