Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91361 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91361 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
I shake my head, desperately. “I’m serious. This can’t—”
Patrizio’s attention snaps to something over my shoulder, his expression hardening as he catches sight of someone near the entrance. When he looks back at me, all traces of flirtation have vanished.
“Wait.” He catches my wrist as I turn to leave. “I need you to come back upstairs with me.”
“What? No, I—”
“Jayne.” His voice drops to almost a whisper, urgent and commanding at once. “Will you wait for me upstairs? It’s not safe for you to leave right now.”
The request is so unexpected, so at odds with our usual banter, that I can only stare at him in confusion. “Not safe? What are you talking about?”
He doesn’t elaborate, just holds my gaze with an intensity that makes my protest die in my throat. The playboy billionaire is gone, replaced by someone grimmer, more dangerous...and someone who seems genuinely concerned about my safety.
“Please, darling. Trust me on this.”
I should refuse. Should laugh it off as another of his tactics to get me alone.
But the stark seriousness in his eyes makes the word “Okay” slip from my lips before I can think better of it.
The tension eases from his powerful build, and he even drops a kiss on my forehead. “Thank you.”
The tender gesture leaves me dazed and speechless, and the ride back up to the penthouse is silent, Patrizio’s body angled to shield me, his focus elsewhere. When we arrive, his friends look up with surprise that quickly shifts to understanding when they see my bewildered expression.
“I need ten minutes,” Patrizio tells them, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Make yourselves comfortable in my office.”
They nod and withdraw without question, leaving us alone in the massive living room.
“I’ll be right back,” Patrizio says, his thumb brushing my cheek in a gesture that’s more reassuring than romantic. “Don’t open the door for anyone but me.”
And then he’s gone, following his friends down the hallway, leaving me standing alone in the center of his world.
I sink onto the nearest sofa, my mind racing. What just happened? One minute we were engaged in an illicit elevator encounter, the next he’s talking about danger and safety like we’ve suddenly stepped into...
Wait.
I stare out at the Manhattan skyline through his floor-to-ceiling windows, a hysterical laugh bubbling up in my throat.
Has my life turned into an Eina L. Haze novel all of a sudden, just minus the big bikes?
Rule #5: Never snoop in a billionaire’s penthouse. It’s not an Eina L. Haze novel.
I PACE PATRIZIO’S PENTHOUSE, my sneakers squeaking on the marble floor like I’m auditioning for a role as World’s Most Anxious Professor.
My heart’s still doing cartwheels from that elevator kiss. His lips on mine, his hands everywhere, my brain screaming, Jayne, you’re doomed!
He said it’s “not safe” to leave, which is the kind of thing Eina L. Haze’s heroes growl before whisking heroines off to secret lairs. Except this is real life, and I’m no Charlize Theron-esque badass who can handle whatever Zio’s hiding.
What is he hiding, anyway?
A secret dungeon?
A stash of questionable business deals?
A girlfriend he forgot to mention?
My stomach twists at that last one, and I shove it down. No way. He kissed me like I was the only woman in the world.
But...am I, really?
I stop pacing, catching my reflection in the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Central Park. My blouse is still slightly askew from the elevator, my bun unraveling like my composure.
“Get it together, Jayne,” I mutter. “You’re a professor, not a heroine about to stumble into a plot twist.”
Except I totally am.
Because there, behind a bookshelf of leather-bound tomes (who even owns those?), I spot a faint outline—a panel, maybe?
My inner romance nerd perks up. Secret doors are, like, the hallmark of an Eina L. Haze novel. In Dominated by the Biker, Leah found a hidden armory behind a bookcase, which led to her hero’s big reveal. I know that’s not a good enough reason to snoop (okay, there’s really no good reason to snoop at all), but...
What else is there to do?
I glance at the hallway where Patrizio and his too-handsome friends disappeared for their “business meeting.”
The penthouse is silent, save for the hum of the espresso machine I’m too intimidated to touch.
I’m sure Patrizio wouldn’t mind.
Right?
“Aaargh, Jayne, you’re an idiot,” I whisper, but my fingers are already brushing the bookshelf, searching for a latch.
My heart hammers as I find a small slot, barely visible, just big enough for... a keycard? I fumble in my bag, pulling out the keycard I spotted earlier on Patrizio’s desk when he was too busy kissing me senseless to notice. It’s sleek, black, with a gold S embossed on it—Steele, obviously. I slide it into the slot, and the bookshelf clicks, sliding open to reveal a gleaming chrome elevator.
Wow.
I mean, yikes!
This...is the part where I should remember that I’m a professor who knows better than to step into a secret elevator without telling anyone.