The truth is the truth—Bridgetisa beautiful woman. She looks incredible tonight.
What many men would call a dime piece.
The sage-green dress she’s got on brings out the color of her eyes, and her red hair is styled in loose beachy waves designed to look carefree but complicated enough I’d believe it took hours.
She’s put in effort, I’ll give her that.
But two hours? To get ready for dinner?
I don’t understand it. She’salreadya naturally beautiful girl.
Why does she need to spend half her evening painting her face and curling her hair to sit across from me at a restaurant?
She could’ve shown up bare faced in an old dress from her closet, and I would’ve been just as pleased.
My phone buzzes again, and I curse under my breath,assuming it’s Dez sending me another viral video. But when I check the screen, it’s a text from Tom.
Your girl never showed up for her shift.
I’ve got no server.
What the hell’s going on?
My stomach drops, and I freeze reading the message.
What the fuck does he mean Jhene didn’t show up for work?
That means one of two things: either she ran... or she was found.
I pull up the security app on my phone, navigating to the live feed from the ring camera I installed a while ago in my studio. The footage loads slowly, buffering for a few agonizing seconds before the image finally appears.
The apartment is empty.
“Killian?” Bridget’s voice sounds far away. “Is everything okay? You look kind of upset about something.”
Her question goes unanswered.
I’m too busy scrolling back through the footage, trying to find the moment Jhene left.
There it is.
About an hour ago, she grabbed her backpack and walked out the door. No one forced her. No one dragged her. She simply left on her own.
She fucking ran.
Bridget’s hand lands on my arm, her voice morphing into a low, seductive purr. “Hey, tough guy. Put the phone away. I’m right here.”
She scoots her chair closer, pressing her body against my side. Her perfume is overwhelming, strong floral notes that make my head spin.
“I’ve been thinking,” she murmurs, her lips brushing against my ear. “Maybe after dinner, we could go back to your place. I’ve always wondered what a boxer’s apartment looks like.”
Her hand slides under the table and lands directly on my crotch.
On my fucking cock and balls as she gives the boys a rough squeeze.
I react on instinct. I shove her hand away before even realizing what I’m doing.
Bridget jerks back like I’ve slapped her, her eyes wide with shock and hurt. “What the hell, Killian?”
