He sighed and looked at me like I was a child. “Olivia,” he said. “When you have money, you can pretty much do whatever you want.”
He might have thought he was clueing me in to some universal truth, but I already knew this – money got things done. It wasn’t the way the world should work, it was unfair and unjust and you could debate the reasons why for hours. But I wasn’t interested in any of that. All I was interested in was getting him to admit that money could get you things you wanted.
“Fine,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “I’ll help you. I’ll do whatever you want. I won’t ask questions. I’ll trust you, I’ll even stay at your apartment. But I want something in return.”
“Of course I’m going to pay you, Princess. What kind of guy do you think I am?” He raised his eyebrows at me and gave me that smarmy grin again, letting me know he knew exactly what kind of guy he was.
“No.” I shook my head. “I mean, yes, I expect to be paid. But I want something else, too.”
“Oh, yeah? And what’s that?”
“I want you to find someone for me.”
“Who?”
“Declan Keene.”
Colt frowned. “Who the hell is Declan Keene?”
I raised my chin into the air, daring him to contradict what I was about to say. “He’s the man I’m going to marry.”
END OF BOOK TWO
Part III
Consumed By Him by Hannah Ford
(Obsessed With Him, Book Three)
Colt looked at me incredulously. “How old are you?” he demanded.
“Twenty,” I said, hoping I sounded haughty. “How old are you?”
“Old enough to know that at twenty, you have no idea who you’re going to marry.” He shook his head. “So you can forget it.”
“Forget what?”
“Forget about me finding some asshole you have some crazy crush on. Let me guess. He dumped you. And now you’re obsessed with him and think if you can just see him again, he’ll realize what he’s missing. Like your life is some kind of fucking romantic comedy.”
“What?” I asked. “No! He didn’t dump me.” I was pissed. Pissed that Colt was acting like I was some kind of silly schoolgirl trying to stalk some guy who had no interest in her. “Declan was my foster brother.”
Colt raised his eyebrows. “Jesus,” he said. “You think you’re going to marry your brother?”
“No! He’s not…we’re not related. He’s my foster brother. Well, was my foster brother.” I expected Colt to give me a sad look, or say something sympathetic, the way people always did when they found out I’d been in foster care. But Colt just held his hands up and took a few steps away from me, like maybe my crazy was contagious.
“Hey,” he said. “What you do on your own time…”
“You know what?” I said. “You can go fuck yourself.” I turned around and headed for the door. I didn’t need this. He needed help from me, too. He should have been kissing my ass, but instead, he was mocking me. And if I wanted to be ridiculed, I could get that any day of the week, just by interacting with society.
“Okay, okay,” Colt said, reaching out and grabbing my arm. “Wait. I’ll help you find Deacon.”
“Declan.”
“Whatever.”
“Fine.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “And what do I have to do for you?”
“Whatever I want,” he said, his voice a mix of husky and cocky. He took a step toward me. “Are you okay with that?”
“Bring it,” I said, forcing myself to meet his gaze.
“Good.” He looked at me. “The first thing we have to do is get you an outfit.”
“An outfit?”
“Yeah. You’re going to be working here.”
“Oh.” I twisted my hands nervously, hoping he couldn’t tell how anxious I was. “I’m going to be stripping?”
This seemed to amuse him. “Are you serious?” he asked. “You really think I would hire you as a stripper after that audition?”
“What was wrong with my audition?” I countered, even though of course I knew what was wrong with my audition.
“You ran out in the middle of it.”
“Just because I didn’t want to get naked for you, doesn’t mean –”
“Doesn’t mean you don’t want to get naked in front of the guys out there?” He shook his head. “Trust me. If you can’t get naked for me, you can’t get naked for them. And besides, you did want to get naked for me.”
“Oh, yeah?” I asked. “Then why didn’t I?”
“Because you were afraid.”
“Afraid?” I repeated “Afraid of what?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “You tell me.”
“I wasn’t afraid.” I swallowed and crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m in love with someone else, is all.”
“Mmm. Deacon.”
“Declan!”
“Right. The guy you need me to help you to find, because you have no idea where he is.”
“Yes,” I said. “But that’s not my fault.”
“What isn’t?”
“That I don’t know where he is. Once we aged out of foster care, it was impossible to keep track of him.”