Page 54 of The Pucking Wrong Rookie

I stared at him, trying to reconcile the big, intense guy who just moments ago was smirking like he ruled the world with the one now babbling about tacos like a golden retriever desperate to please.

“It’s perfect,” I said, my voice soft because the bastard was ripping through my defenses like they were made of paper. “I like it here. Steak is my favorite.”

His grin instantly returned, bright and easy. “You just told me something else about you.” He did a fist pump in the air, and a small giggle escaped my lips.

“Fuck, that’s my new favorite sound.”

I blushed at the look in his eyes.

And for a second, I forgot how strange this all was. I forgot the rules, the walls…the constant need to be on guard. In that moment, with his eyes shining as he stared at me like he’d found everything he’d been looking for in life, it felt like maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t a trap.

But then again, in my experience, things that felt too good to be true always were.

* * *

Dinner with Logan was going perfectly. I could barely eat because I was so caught up in listening to him, in looking at him…in just being with him.

He was smiling across the table, saying something about the game, and I caught myself smiling back.

“Sorry, I have to use the restroom,” he said a few minutes later, a slight blush to his cheeks, like he was embarrassed.

It was adorable.

“I’ll be right back.” He slid out of the booth before turning back to me. “Please don’t leave.”

“I won’t,” I murmured, surprised at how much I meant those two words.

“Good,” he said, a hint of that cockiness leaking into his voice. “Because Iwouldfind you.”

With those…interesting…words, he headed to the hall with the bathrooms.

The second he was out of sight, I felt it—a shift in the air. My stomach tightened, and before I could even look around, I heard a voice that I dreaded.

“Sloane Calloway. If it isn’t my lucky day.”

The voice sent a cold shiver down my spine. I didn’t have to look to know who it was—Charles Spiker. A rich financier…and one of my regulars. My stomach rolled at the memory of the last time I’d seen him, his old, shriveled dick down my throat as he pounded into me.

I hadn’t been able to swallow normally for a week.

I forced myself to glance up, and there he was.

Charles’s hair was steel gray, combed back with too much product, because he thought it made him look distinguished. The navy suit he wore was expensive, but even the finest craftsmanship couldn’t disguise the paunch straining against the buttons of his shirt or the way the fabric pulled awkwardly over his midsection.

His eyes—small, watery, and too close together—raked over me with a lecherous intensity that made my skin crawl. His gaze lingered far too long, his lips curling into a smile that was more predatory than polite. There was a shine on his forehead, the kind that spoke of too many martinis and too little shame, and his cologne was heavy enough to choke a horse.

“Charles,” I said quietly, my voice steady. It had disappeared, that glittery, light feeling I’d been experiencing only moments before. The familiar numbness was seeping back into me.

He looked me up and down, his eyes lingering on my breasts.

I wanted to disappear.

“You look stunning, as always,” he said, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I’ll be contacting you soon for a little…meetup. I know how much you enjoyed last time.”

His words dripped with suggestion, and I felt like I’d been punched. My throat tightened, and the best I could do was muster up a blank look as a wave of disgust washed over me. Why men like him pretended they were doingmea favor by fucking me—I’d never understand.

They were all unequivocally terrible in bed.

It was a good reminder, though.Thiswas my life. Whatever Logan said, whatever Logan did…it wasn’t real.

---