Made: A Bad Boy Romance (Bad Boy Games) Read Online Free PDF Page A

girl, it must be good.” Caylee’s words jolt me from my reverie.
    I toss her a sheepish grin and realize I’m blushing. She grins right back at me. “Admit it, you were thinking about sex, the really, really hot kind; the kind you dream about; the kind you need. Am I right?” When I don’t answer, she waves a hand at me. “Oh, don’t bother. I know I’m right.”
    It’s my turn to shrug as I try to act casual. Fat chance of pulling that one off when I’m feeling anything but casual.
    Reality check, Brooke. You’re too cautious to take a risk. Nobody delivered expensive red shoes to your door and no one in this place has looked twice at you, not to mention the fact you’re way too practical and conservative to show up at a random office in Jersey and sign a freaking contract.
    Try telling that to my body. The ache between my legs is still pumping sexual energy into my veins like a drug. I could probably get off if a man dragged his gaze over me too long.
    Which is pretty sad when you think about it.
    Caylee laughs at my obvious discomfort and kicks back the last of her drink. Her eyes are bright; her cheeks flushed. I’m about to suggest we head down to the main floor when a guy in a dark suit comes up behind her. He’s there only long enough to slip something into her hand before disappearing again into the crowd.
    She stills, her eyes going wide. “This is it!” She opens her palm, revealing a burner phone. A red light blinks and then a line of text marches across the screen. After studying it, she holds the phone, so I can see the screen. It looks like a regular incoming call message, except there’s a red button for accept and a blue button for decline.
    She flips the phone around and her finger hovers over the red button.
    Fear clutches at my throat. I have this feeling something bad is going to happen. “Wait! This is too strange. You don’t know enough. You haven’t even seen the guy or talked to him. That’s not a real choice.”
    She shakes her head slowly, seeming a little dazed, maybe from finishing her drink too fast. “I already signed the contract. I can’t say no. I have to do this.”
    “But wait—”
    Before I can grab the phone away from her, she stabs the red button. We both freeze, staring at the screen. For a few long seconds, nothing happens. Then a green text message pops up: Report to the east door. Mr. Daniels will escort you from that point.
    She turns in a circle. “Which way is east?”
    While I’m trying to get my bearings, a tall guy who looks like an MMA fighter stuffed into an expensive dark suit appears at Caylee’s elbow.
    “Miss Bennett?” he inquires. He’s not wearing a nametag, but I assume he’s the Mr. Daniels from the text message.
    She half turns, staring up at him while at the same time reaching back toward me and shoving the burner phone into my hand. I take it and manage not to fumble. Fortunately, Mr. Daniels is preoccupied with Caylee and doesn’t appear to notice what she’s done. His voice is deep, and he’s speaking too softly for me to hear, but Caylee hangs on every word.
    The guy finishes his spiel and turns to go. Before following him, Caylee pivots quickly, pulls me into a fierce hug, and whispers into my ear, “Hold onto the phone for me, okay?”
    Then she’s off. I watch her follow the big man across the club until they pass through a door marked with gold letters, VIP .
    I shove the phone into my bag while muttering to myself how ridiculous the whole situation is, including my irrational fears, which have no basis in reality. The truth is that my friend is going on an adventure and will probably have fabulous sex and come home a whole lot richer. Even Samantha is probably having a better time than I am—assuming she was telling the truth about spending the night at her friend’s house. I should call and check up on her, but I want to trust her; I need to trust her. So I’ve told myself I’m going to do just that until she gives