Page 58 of Claim

My cock only wanted Sophia Morelli.

The woman I’d pushed away.

Her moans. Her pleas. Her whimpers. Her fucking pain and those damn beautiful tears.

Gritting my teeth, I set the glass on the bar top and walked out of the lounge.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Sophia

SOPHIA MORELLI – ELITE MODEL OR HIGH-END SOMETHING ELSE?

I stared at the headline on the screen of my phone wishing for nothing more than to hide under the covers of my bed and never come out.

According to multiple outlets, I made a name for myself in the fashion industry by sleeping my way to the top. And to add insult to injury, in a few articles, allegedly my friends and I positioned ourselves for the top jobs in a manner that made us nothing but elite escorts.

That fucking bastard.

There was no doubt in my mind, in every fiber of my being, that Keith Randolph was behind this. He had so much money and time, and he wasted it on me, making my life hell instead of working on his fashion house with its subpar line of clothing.

How had he figured out it was me?

Since the night two weeks ago when Lizzy and I visited Keith’s penthouse, I’d consistently checked the reports and used my connections to find out who they suspected as the intruders. According to the police report, they believed the culprits among a list of models Keith had publicly humiliated during the fashion week selection process.

Having a well-known reputation for being an asshole left a large pool of conspirators.

He’d been correct in fixating on me, but that was beside the point. In the grand scheme of things, I hadn’t interacted with the bastard in years. Whenever possible, I avoided being in the same building with him.

Then again, I should have expected him to come for me. Of all the people he’d fucked with over the years, the only one who’d have any ability to fight back was me.

We, Morellis, had our underworld connections, after all. If only I’d thought to use them.

The fucking nerve of the asshole.

He utilized the services of escorts and now trashed me as one—misogynistic asshole.

Turning off my screen, I swallowed down the worry and terror of what I’d face when I stepped outside my apartment and made my way to my kitchen.

Yeah, it was one in the afternoon, but a girl needed something to calm the hell down. I searched through my cabinets and shelves, finding nothing but mineral water.

Where were all the wine and bottles of liquor I kept around for guests?

Then I thought for a second. Lizzy had a key to my place and had strolled right in that day. That sneaky little… She stole all my alcohol.

I guessed I couldn’t hold it against her too much. I had scared the shit out of her with the Keith incident.

I’d checked up on her every day, and she insisted she had a new respect for my lady balls, but I still wasn’t convinced she’d recovered from all the excitement. As the youngest of us, we’d done all we could to protect and preserve her innocence. That was until I nearly got her into the biggest trouble of her life.

Dread settled in my gut, thinking about what could have happened to us and what I’d face with this new shit spreading about me.

How would I explain this? Only the small circle of people who truly knew me wouldn’t believe a word of these new lies, but the public had already latched on.

Oh God, oh God, oh God.

I’d survived worse.

People believed I’d snorted drugs and danced on tables at eighteen.

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