He hugs me and before long, Nicholas called the attention of everyone by tapping a fork against his champagne glass. He starts out thanking our guests for coming and explains how he could not have chosen a better person to have gotten the job done with such great success. The more he talks, the closer he walks towards me.
When Nicholas is within arm’s reach of me, he grabs my hand and drops to one knee. My heart thumps out of my chest. It’s beating so fast I’m afraid it may actually explode. It’s happening.
Looking up at me with nothing more than affection and care, he asks, “Riley Moore, would you do me the honor of becoming Mrs. Nicholas Brooks?”
The entire party is in awe, but no one more than me. I never thought I would be someone’s wife. Hell, I don’t know what I thought would happen in the future between us. If someone had told me a year ago that I would be marrying one of the most eligible, rich, and powerful bachelors in Boston, I would have laughed in their face.
The room is quiet enough to hear a pin drop. It takes me a moment to understand what is happening. I thought my answer came out, but evidently, it didn’t.
Nicholas jolts me back to reality, still on one knee, holding my hand and waiting for an answer. “Riley, sweetheart?”
“Yes! Yes, of course! It would be an honor, Nicholas.”
The family is filled with joy, and the sound of cheers and congratulations are heard throughout the room. Nicholas places a beautiful emerald-cut diamond on my finger. He stands up and kisses me as the guests cheer us on.
The music resumes playing, and he whispers something in my ear.
“Let’s go upstairs for a quickie.”
He grabs my hand, and we sneak out of the party, full of laughs. He presses the button to call for the elevator. While waiting, he undoes his necktie. I look down at his crotch and see his dick bulging through his pants.
“Now’s the perfect time to end the night in the way that we met.”
“What do you mean, Nicholas?” The elevator pings and the doors open.
“Are you ready for another ride?”
As ready as I’ll ever be.
Thank You for reading Elevators & Bosses, to read more books in this series check out our website www.bleedingheartromance.com
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About the Authors
J.L. Beck and C. Hallman are a USA Today and international bestselling author duo who write contemporary and dark romance.
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Roni
By Carmel Rhodes
Carmel Rhodes
Roni
Falling in love is easy, it’s everything else that’s hard.
How could I not fall in love with Devin Tedesco? I’ve known him my whole life. I’m not just saying that in the way some people say it—the way most talk about their grade school friends. He knows me better than anyone else in this world. He’s my constant. Like the oak tree in the backyard at gran’s house, or the tiny mole that sits just above my lip.
Like air.
Like grass.
Like art.
Like home.
Falling in love with him was easy. He was my first friend, the very best to ever do it. I loved him in secret until one day that secret became too much to bear, so I told him.
Then I lost him.
*Roni is a spinoff of Truly. While you don’t have to read it first to enjoy the story, it is recommended that you do.
Roni © copyright 2021 Carmel Rhodes
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
1
Chapter 1
Roni, age 18
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Momma asks as she puts the car in park.
I stare up at the pale-yellow house with the crooked blue shutters and smile. “Yeah,” I whisper. “I think I need this.”
She huffs, and I turn in time to catch her pink lips pucker into a pout. “I don’t understand why you can’t chase your muse at home?” Willow Abernathy—well, Jacobs, now, I guess—is supermodel gorgeous. I’m not just saying that because she’s my mother, it’s true. She did a Guess campaign when she was sixteen. To hear her tell it, she had been destined for greatness, at least she was until I invaded her womb—crushing her teenage dreams and forcing her into domestic hell.
“Because I need a break from you and Paul and all your newly wedded bliss,” I tease.
Her face falls. “I thought you liked Paul?”
“I do.” I reach for her hand over the center console and squeeze it tight. “I mean it, he’s a great guy, and I love him for you.”
“Just not enough to spend the summer with us.” She glances over my shoulder at the house, and I wonder what she sees when she looks at it. For her, Newton is a past she’d gladly forget. I think it reminds her too much of the mistakes she made and the person she was back then. She doesn’t understand my desire to come back here, but to me, Newton will always be home.
“Momma, I love you—”
“Do you?” Her voice is hopeful, yet unsure. My mother and I are as different as night and day. She’s got the whole long-legged, blonde-haired, blue-eyed goddess thing going—and me—well, I take after my father. Dark hair and eyes. Fair skin and freckles that look a lot like constellations on my cheeks. She’s soft and sweet, and I’ve got rough edges and speak fluent sarcasm. She lives for spa days and manicures, while I typically have paint stains on my fingertips. Despite our differences—despite our difficult past—we grew up together in a sense. That bonded us. And even though most of the time it feels more like I’m her mother and she’s my daughter, I do love her.
“Mom.”
She holds up her hands in surrender. “I know, I know. I’m not supposed to guilt trip you about this,” she says, repeating the words our therapist said to her at our last session.