Hot Wicked Romances

“Stupid, so stupid. Why did I let myself fall for the words? I’m nothing but a monster. Lance Aragon is a multibillionaire who oozes perfection and Phoenix’s most eligible bachelor. Of course he didn’t mean to kiss me.” I smack myself in the forehead as I cry into my hands.

The doors open on my floor. I head to my room that I’m sharing with Brittany and London and hurry through getting out of the dress and putting on my black leggings and green sweater. I look around for my flip flops and then remember they are in the bathroom. I slip them on and start throwing my clothes, make-up, and everything I brought into my bag. I look around making sure I am not leaving anything behind. Grabbing a pen and paper from the bedside table, I scrawl out a quick note.





London, Brittany, and Corinne,

Thank you for trying to make me beautiful but I am nothing but a monster. Please don’t contact me as I am going to take a vacation where there is no cell service. I need this time away so please respect my wishes. If you could let Devin know that we will have lunch when I get back into town, I made a promise and I will keep it even if his dad is an ass.

Love,

Riley





I take one more look around and head out the door. I see the stairs and decide that I will go down those instead of the elevator so I don’t attract attention or run into Lance. I make it the bottom of the stairs and look around. I see London and Lance in the hallway, arguing. I tiptoe over to the door near the parking lot and quietly open the door to get out. The cool air hits my face and I hunch over feeling like an idiot. I am twenty-four years old and acting like a teenager sneaking out of my house.

I remember where I parked and throw my bag into the back of my car. Starting my car, I pull out of the parking lot and see the hotel getting smaller and smaller in my rear view mirror. I have the windows down, Linkin Park blasting through the speakers, drowning out my thoughts. I decide when I get home that I am going to head to Lake Tahoe for a week with my parents. I know they are out of town for a few days, but I can take those days to rethink my life.

I need my dad’s words of wisdom and my mom’s hugs. Growing up, I hated their no electronics on vacation, holidays, or weekends until the chores were done, but now I am so grateful for them because I can avoid talking to people.

I catch my reflection in my mirror and see the scars—they are the reason that I am alone, and I can’t even get them removed. My face is too damaged and no surgeon will touch me. I get to my house and run upstairs to pack some clothes then I come down to my office and check emails really quick to see if there is anything of urgency, but I see the only project I have is Lance’s and that isn’t scheduled for a couple of weeks. I shoot off a message to Brittany to ask her to check on the house, get the mail, check messages, and let her know where I am. I told her not to let anyone know where I am headed and to only call my parent’s house in case of an emergency. I change the voicemail to let them know we are closed and will return to back to regular hours in a week and a half. If it’s an emergency, leave a message and someone will be checking them.

I shut off the computer and lights, lock up, and head to my car. I throw my duffel bag into the passenger seat. It’s 11:30 PM, and I should get to my parents’ by mid-afternoon. I set off driving.

“Happy New Year, Riley, another year alone.”

I’m about two hours into my trip when my phone starts ringing. I look to see who is calling, and I sigh with relief that it’s my dad’s picture staring at me. I answer through my Bluetooth.

“Happy New Year, Daddy.”

“Same to you, pumpkin. How was your fancy party?” I sniffle, remembering the final moments with Lance.

“I left early. I’m actually coming to see you. I need my mommy and daddy.” I hear laughter in the background and wonder where he is because I thought they were going to a hotel with a couple of friends in the nearby town.

“Oh, honey, didn’t Mommy tell you? We’re on a trip with friends. The house is empty so go through your tantrum, and I’ll come see you at the end of the month when I get back. Oh, I gotta go. We love you.” He abruptly hangs up on me.



“I am not throwing a tantrum.” I keep driving only stopping for gas and to pee. My phone won’t stop going off—it’s either Lance, London, or Brittany. “Sorry, guys, not talking to anyone.” I toss my phone on the front seat next to me and focus on the road.





Lance - 11





I’m such an idiot for letting Riley run away from me and using that tone with her. I was more upset with myself because I was pawing at her like a teenager instead of the treasuring her like she needs.

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