The Bad Boy Billionaire: What a Girl Wants Read Online Free PDF Page A

with tightly coiled rage.
    “I got him to stop before . . .” I couldn’t say it. Before he raped me. Before it became more than “just” assault. Or whatever. It was awful and it was wrong. I felt violated and defiled and this hot water wasn’t enough.
    “FUCKING HELL, JANE,” Duke swore because I didn’t have to say much for him to understand. Eyes dark. Mouth firm. Jaw clenched. “Where is he?”
    “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.”
    He was drunk and god forbid—driving. But at this point, I doubted he would make it out of the city. The bridges and tunnels were closed. We were trapped on this island together. Me and my insane, psycho ex-boyfriend.
    I shuddered. In the hot water, I shuddered.
    “It fucking does matter,” Duke said, slamming his fist against the marble wall. I knew he wasn’t mad at me but the intensity of his anger was too much for me now. I closed my eyes.
    Duke questioned me anyway. “Where is he?”
    “I don’t know. You won’t find him and . . . just let it go tonight.”
    “Jane . . .” he reached out to touch me. I flinched.
    I had opened my eyes for that, so I saw the agonies in his eyes when I didn’t respond to his touch.
    “I’m sorry,” I said.
    “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
    “OK.”
    “Let’s call the cops.”
    “No.”
    “No?”
    “What can they do? There were no witnesses. It’s his word against mine, and I doubt they’ll believe me. If they do, I doubt they’ll even find him.”
    “Jane, what he did was wrong. Whatever he did to you, it was wrong.”
    “How will the cops and pressing charges make it right?” I asked. Duke didn’t have an answer for that. “I just want to forget it ever happened.”
    “Let’s talk about this in the morning,” Duke said, his voice strained and weary.
    The hot water came down over my head. It wasn’t enough. I started to peel off my cardigan. I needed to clean every inch of my skin. But did I want to be so exposed? I was aware of Duke’s darkened gaze on me.
    He was my guy. I didn’t have to be scared.
    But you thought Sam was your guy . . .
    Duke stepped into the shower with me. Fully clothed. He clasped my hands lightly in his and gazed into my eyes.
    “You are safe now, Jane. Let’s take care of you.”
    I didn’t respond, other than to nod. Just let the water rain down on my head.
    “Do you want to go to the police?”
    “No. Not now.” I didn’t dare say maybe not ever. It was one bad night—wasn’t it? Did Sam deserve jail for a one-time drunken lapse in judgment? I didn’t know. Did I want to wreck his life? Or had he been the one to wreck his own life? I didn’t know. Why did I feel so guilty, so responsible?
    “We won’t go to the police tonight,” Duke said.
    Tonight. Maybe tomorrow. But there was that hurricane . . . The police had bigger issues tonight.
    Duke and I both stood in the shower, fully clothed, soaking wet. Then, as if understanding, he handed me the bar of soap. When I had lathered up and rinsed and repeated a few times, he helped me wash my hair. I brushed my teeth until he took the toothbrush away.
    For a minute he disappeared and returned with a pair of navy blue pajama pants of his and a grey T-shirt that said “Instagram,” both of which were too large, as I discovered when Duke left me alone to change.
    It was still me looking at myself in the mirror. I looked the same, but everything felt different. I had been hurt and attacked by someone I had loved and trusted. There was a chanting chorus of what if questions echoing in my head. What if I hadn’t hit him? What if I hadn’t run? I closed my eyes, tried to ignore the thoughts. I left the room.
    Duke was in the living room. Pacing.
    “Can you tell me what happened? I’m going crazy imagining the worst, Jane.”
    I told him about the drinks. The awkward texts. The emails. I told him how I tried to be a friend—the curse of a good girl. I told him about what happened next. I could tell Duke was