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

ready to go out into the hurricane, find Sam, and beat him until there was no breath left in his body. I wouldn’t have stopped him—except I didn’t want to be alone right now. If I was alone, I would think. I would go over and over and over and over in my mind all the moments where I played my cards wrong and ended up screwed.
    “What if this was one of those books of yours?” Duke asked. “What would the good guy do?”
    “If I were a girl in Regency England and I had been assaulted or raped, what would have happened? The same thing as so many girls in third world countries today. I would have been forced into marriage with my attacker because of some sick and twisted notion of honor.”
    I paused, imagining the horror of that fate. No matter what, I would avoid that. A blessing.
    “What would the hero have done if this happened to his girl?” Duke asked softly. Because of course there was a hero, and his girl had been wronged.
    “You would meet him in a remote corner of Central Park at dawn with pistols at fifty paces.”
    “Or I could hack into his email and social accounts and ruin his life forever with a few posts mentioning his lack of concern for a woman. I could make it so he never worked again, never got a girlfriend again . . .” Duke paced around his living room, muttering about all the ways he could destroy Sam’s online reputation and thus his prospects in real life. He’d maybe never get a job again. Any prospective date would Google him and see that he got drunk and attacked a woman—and hopefully know better than to go out with him.
    I knew he could do it, too. With just a few lines of code he could ruin another man’s life. I could just say the word and Duke would do it.
    “Or just hold me,” I said. I wasn’t sure if that’s what I wanted, but then Duke’s arms lightly enclosed around me and I tensed. Then, with a deep exhalation, I softened. I breathed him in and the familiar scent soothed me as it always did.
    “Let’s just go to bed tonight.”
    Hand and hand we strolled down the hall to his bedroom. There was a large king bed flanked by bedside tables. One wall was nothing but floor to ceiling windows. Outside, the hurricane raged. Raindrops splattered against the terrace where we had once made love.
    “You’re safe here, Jane.” His voice was soothing. I was tired—but still ready to fight. I noticed a suitcase open on the bed that he quickly removed.
    “Going somewhere?”
    “San Francisco, remember? Doesn’t matter, my flight was canceled along with every other flight out of Manhattan. There’s no way to leave the island. Not that I would leave you now, anyway. So I’m here, Jane.”
    Duke said all these lovely words while gazing into my eyes. I knew he wanted to reassure me. But I also sensed that he needed reassurance that I was okay. Or that he hadn’t failed me by letting this happen.
    By now I was tired—bone tired, soul tired. There were questions plaguing me: Had I asked for it by meeting him? Had I drunk too much? Did I belittle him by paying the bill? Was it my fault?
    Why did I think it was my fault? He had assaulted me. If I had extended the same friendly thinking toward, say, Roxanna, she never would have hurt me like that. It wasn’t my fault.
    But it felt like I was.
    Duke tucked me into his bed and climbed in beside me. I closed my eyes, shutting out the thoughts and the questions. The raindrops and wind provided a soothing sound, along with Duke’s steady breathing beside me. Something bad happened, but I was inside, safe and warm. I drifted off to sleep.
    I WOKE UP in the middle of the night, seized with an idea for a story. My own throwaway line from earlier in the evening had worked its way into my dreams: If I were a girl in Regency England and had been assaulted or raped, what would have happened? The same thing as so many girls in third world countries today. I would have been forced into marriage with my attacker because of some sick and