Gamed (A Standalone Romance Novel) (Bad Boy Romance) Read Online Free PDF

I
couldn't talk to Owen looking like a grief-stricken zombie urchin – if I could
manage to talk to him at all.
    We used to talk on
the phone in high school, quick chats before I handed the phone to Sienna, but
later calls about video games. Sometimes, Owen called to ask my opinion about
certain games or to talk through a new strategy. The calls kept up through
college, so I had his number in my phone.
    The last call had
been about a week ago. It started off about Dark
Flag and his magazine interview. Then Owen had asked me about classes. We
had talked for over two hours about me leaving UCLA.
    "Come to
Vegas and we'll chat more," he had said.
    Well, I thought, I’m back in Vegas . This
conversation was just going to be far different than anything I had dreamed.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    CHAPTER
TWO
    Owen

 
    I had to park two streets over. Once the car was off, I could not force myself to
open the door. Hundreds of people were going to Sienna's funeral. They walked
past my car in their expensive black dresses and hand-tailored suits. It took
all I had not to start the car and drive away.
    Sienna hated my
car. It was the same old, black Porsche I had bought from my father's mechanic
when I turned sixteen. The seats were cracked, the exterior paint so worn it
had lost its shine, and the dozens of dings marred the body. Still, the engine
purred when it started. And, it pissed off both Sienna and my father. I loved
that car.
    Sienna wanted
everything to be perfect. If it worked but did not look good, then it would
never be good enough for her. On the flip side, she was willing to put up with
broken things that were beautiful. That was the reason I could not get out of
the car.
    Her family made me
uncomfortable. Sienna's mother was always way up or way down. One day, I saw
her with her face streaked with tears and smeared make-up. A few hours after
that, she was beaming as she belted out "Sweet Caroline" at the local
bakery.  
    Mr. Thomas was
worse. He was a high-powered lawyer who never turned off his killer instinct
for arguments. I once told him I was looking forward to the nice weather over
the weekend. He looked up three forecasts and the farmer's almanac to prove me
wrong. Sienna had just rolled her eyes at me and canceled my idea for a picnic.
    Still, they were a
beautiful family with a beautiful house in beautiful Summerlin and Sienna loved them. I could not imagine facing them without her.
    What if they knew
what had happened?
    I stopped again at
the foot of the driveway. It was a safe bet Sienna's family would not care if I
did not make an appearance. Her father would probably prefer it. I was about to
turn around when I saw Quinn.
    She was carrying a
huge spray of flowers towards the back entrance. Despite her removal from the
front door crowd, a couple still stopped her to express their condolences. As
she sank under the weight of the flowers, they unloaded their guilt at being
more fortunate than her and her family. I could have punched the man for
dabbing at his appropriately wet eyes instead of taking the heavy vase from
her.
    As much as I
wanted to turn around and never see these people again, I could not leave. If
Quinn was handling it, so could I.
    I strode up and
took the flowers from her without a word.
    "That's the
boyfriend," the man's wife whispered as I headed for the back entrance.
    I pulled open the
door and held it for Quinn. When I looked back to see if she was coming, I felt
as if everyone from the driveway was staring at me. Somehow, they all knew what
I had done. They knew it was my fault. Sienna was dead, they needed someone to
blame, and I was the guy.
    "Thank
you," Quinn said. She led the way in the back door and to the formal
dining room. The long table was covered in tasteful flower arrangements.
    The scent of
lilies made me sick, but we were the only ones in the room. I would have stayed
amongst that sickly sweet stench all night if it was just the two of