Executive Toy Read Online Free Page A

is much more accessible when he’s smiling.
    That still doesn’t make me forgive him. “I don’t care if you share a toothbrush. You had no right to tell them.”
    He steps a little closer, and I’m aware of his yummy scent, that spicy aftershave. I stare up at him, and as we look into each other’s eyes, I realize that if he kisses me right now, it wouldn’t be completely unexpected.
    He moves his face closer to mine, and my breath catches. “I know one way to fix that,” he says, his voice low.
    I frown. “How?” I murmur.
    “We can recreate the scene.”
    I have never hit another person in my life except in self-defense, but my hands are curling into fists. We’re standing so close together that I can see the pulse of his heartbeat in his neck. His blue eyes are flecked with gold. Knowing what I know now, it’s probably 24 karat. I should have realized he was filthy rich by the way he acted. Entitled. Confident. He carries himself like a man who has never been beaten down by the world.
    He moves closer, and now our lips are millimeters apart. Even though they’re not touching mine, I know his lips are soft. I know he’s a good kisser. I hear myself whimper, and I’m aware that the sound feels helpless, and that breaks the spell.
    Someone shoves a glass of champagne into my hand. Startled, I step away from Hawthorne, who also takes a step back. He’s rubbing the back of his neck, and for the first time, I can imagine what he’s like when he’s wearing jeans and being normal. That makes me realize that for a moment, I was almost normal, too, and a weird ache unfurls inside me.
    “We’re celebrating,” Romeo says. He holds his champagne flute out at me. “Toast with me,” he says. And just like that, my anger and anxiety diffuse. His warm brown eyes… there’s something about him that makes me trust him.
    “Toasting what?”
    “Hawthorne’s freedom,” he says.
    “Divorce?” I look at Hawthorne. I can’t imagine what kind of woman would marry such an egomaniac.
    “What you’re thinking is written all over your face, Lindsay,” Hawthorne says. His expression has gotten tight again, like when he was examining my expenses. He sloshes champagne into his empty glass and then clinks it against mine. “To freedom.”
    Freedom is the one thing I will always drink to, because I never know when mine is going to come to an end.
    “You’re wrong,” Hawthorne says after a minute. It startles me because for a moment I think he somehow read my mind, but then he says, “Not a divorce. Today is my twenty-eighth birthday, and twelve hours ago I gained full control of my trust fund as well as the company I’ve been improving the last six years.”
    “Shit,” I say. “I mean, happy birthday.” There is nothing shocking about a man named Hawthorne Tarraget having a trust fund, but, damn. All that hassle he gave me about salon visits, an amount that would just be pocket change to him?
    I wonder what he would say if he knew that I broke off my nails fighting for my life and they’ve never been right since.
    Suddenly I don’t want any more champagne. I just want to go home.
    “Hey,” Hawthorne says. I look up into those piercing eyes of his. “Are you ok?”
    “Sure. I’ll see you later.”
    It’s Romeo who stops me. He hands me a business card. “In case you find yourself in need of a new job. I’ve got offices all over the world, and I can tell you’ve got a good head on your shoulders.” The way he says it makes me wonder if he somehow knows about me.
    But he can’t. No one knows who I am.
    I tap the business card against my leg. “Thanks.”
    It’s not until I’m halfway across the parking lot that I realize that I blew an easy chance to have a good time. Not Hawthorne, of course. I’m not interested in him. But the other two… either one would have been a good time, maybe even a warm body to fall asleep next to, an escape from the fear that haunts my nights.
    With a resigned sigh, I