Page 23 of Beauty and the Bosshole
“What do you mean, European markets?”
“The Italian look,” Declan says. “Daniella’s got that classic look, long dark hair, very sensual.”
“Daniella?” He must have said the wrong name. Ava’s modeling for us, not Daniella.
Then I realize why Leon’s cackling so hard he’s doubled over.
I hang up my phone and grab Leon around the scruff of the neck. The snake slithers away under the sofa, causing the guard to do a little dance on his toes that would ordinarily be quite amusing.
“Such a good story.” Leon’s chuckling so hard he can barely speak. “The CEO of Aurora uses his fiancée as his product model. Such a good story that I’ve already leaked it to the press.”
“What…?” It feels like a large object is sitting on my chest as the realization sets in. “What did you do?”
Leon’s face is turning red from laughter and from my choking him, but he waves away the guards that try to step in. “Not my idea. Your mother…” he chokes. “She has a brilliant mind.”
My fucking mother is again sticking her nose into my business with no regard to the consequences.
“You, my future son-in-law, will not only marry my little princess but also launch her modeling career.”
Chapter Eight
Ava
“You, my future son-in-law, will not only marry my little princess, but you will also launch her modeling career,” the other man says to Reese, and I gasp.
Everything freezes, and they both turn to look at me. I’ve been caught. I try to back out of the room but run into a warm body. Not expecting it, I start to fall and scream out. At the same time, everything starts to go hazy.
**
“Ava!” Reese yells, and suddenly, I’m in a dark Las Vegas hotel room with Reese in bed beside me, shirtless and shaking me awake.
“Ava, sweetheart, it was just a nightmare,” he says in a soothing tone, rubbing his hand up and down my arm.
The whole thing feels so real. Did I fall down at the strip club and hit my head? Did I lose a whole chunk of time and end up back here at the hotel?
“Your meeting with Leon. Was it at a strip club?”
“No, we ate at a restaurant,” Reese says, looking a bit confused.
“And he doesn't have a pet snake and didn’t threaten you to marry his daughter?” I ask as all the events come rushing back to me.
“No, he didn't. You were having a nightmare; none of that happened.”
“Did I agree to be one of your models?”
“Now, yes, that did happen. You're not changing your mind, are you?” he asks with concern darkening his face.
“No. It's just that nightmare felt so real,” I say, still trying to shake it out of my head. “Wait, why are you in my bed?”
We have a two-bedroom suite; he should be on the other side of this hotel room.
The old Reese is back in a flash with the smirk that he gives me, but he doesn't say anything as he just runs his eyes over me. I'm in a tank top, cotton shorts, and no bra; I like to be comfortable when I sleep, and I thought I was sleeping alone.
“Listen, try to get back to sleep. Get a few more hours…”
“Not happening,” I say, sitting up wide awake. When I stand up, he grabs my hand.
“What are you doing? You should get back to sleep,” he says again, trying to pull me back into bed.