Emotionally Compromised (Emotionally Compromised Series) Read Online Free PDF Page A

itself in my brain, and it has me reeling.
    The long, pitch-black, curly hair; the glittering gold in her hazel eyes ; her perfect, pink, pouty lips always twisted into a challenging smirk; and those adorable eyebrows ever furrowed with confusion or frustration at each and every interaction between us.
    I scoff at the personal confession. I've never met someone so persistent at telling me no. It doesn't make sense —or am I an arrogant asshole?
    Maybe she is right. Maybe I'm more annoyed that Marcus got her number.
    I guess I could let him have this one. I've snatched many a girl from him, but this one, I don't want to.
    That's because you are a selfish bastard.
    I smirk at the thought even though I shouldn't.
    Now what do I have? Nothing! No number. No information whatsoever. I guess I have her name. What good would that do me? I could get Rebecca to pull a background check. Tell her it's for future employment.
    Hmm . “Alex Turner.” Or is it Alexandra, Alexandria, or what?
    I collapse onto my couch , shaking my head and questioning my sanity. She is only a girl. She is only a girl, I repeat as a mantra.
    Trying to make myself feel better, I remind myself she is only a waitress. But a smart waitress.
    I appreciate a good challenge, and I have never met a woman that seems like one .
    U ntil now.
    I sigh, rubbing my face and feeling crazy again.
    What's the point of dwelling on this? I've lost my chance, and will never have the opportunity again. Even if I do see her again, it would be an obnoxious encounter if she were with Marcus. I know when Marcus is gaga over a pretty girl, and this one was too easy to fall for. I know, because I fell too.
    With that thought, I realize it's two in the morning. I need sleep. I don't need to be thinking about some insignificant encounter. I have a breakfast meeting tomorrow that should be on my mind.
    I get up from my couch, walk into my bedroom, and empty my pockets. As I remove my clothes and slip into bed, I have an unsettling thought. What did Marcus have tonight that I didn't?
    I rarely lose, and I have a sinking feeling I am not going to be able to let this one go.
    I let my eyelids sink closed as I recall her face when she drove away in the cab —lost, confused, and speechless. Sometimes it felt like her eyes were telling me something entirely different from her mouth.
    I know attraction when I see it. I didn't see it for Marcus. I saw it every time her eyes caught mine, but they always seemed cloudy and full of doubt, even though her words were crisp and confident.
    Who is this girl? I want to know more, and dammit, I have no idea why.

CHAPTER FOUR
    Chance
     
     
     
     
    ALEX TURNER
    I am exhausted from last night. Tracking Marcus's car proved to be useless. Derek went and checked the situation out. All we know is Luc is at the top of our suspect list. He is most likely the European contact. He left Marcus's house via cab around 2 a.m., and it looks as if Marcus didn't head to bed until close to four.
    I wonder what kind of game Marcus is going to play. Will he text me soon?
    I wander around my apartment, deciding what I should do with my day. It is only ten in the morning. I debate if I should head to the office or hit the gym.
    I should be studying. My LLAT exam is on Tuesday.
    The test could make or break my career within my agency. It took me years of dedication to qualify to take the test that put’s the details right in its name: Law, Linguistics, Artillery, and Teamwork. It’s a test that is earned through experience, and I cannot mess this up.
    I peer over at my coffee table and squint at the sight of my review books on law and agency technicalities. Oh, how I want to light those books on fire and throw them off the tallest building in Boston.
    I sigh as I realize the right answer.
    I grab my backpack, my books, and decide coffee is necessary.
    My cell phone rings.
    "Agent Turner speaking."
    "What are you doing?" Derek asks.
    Rolling my eyes, I respond with, "I am