Training Her Curves - Dallas (A BBW Billionaire Domination and Submission Romance) Read Online Free PDF Page A

school, the kind that medicates the kids until they're zombies. When I told the woman who showed up to transport me to the facility what was going on, she stopped...to renegotiate the price."
    The truth of that final betrayal twisted in my gut. Even with my accusation against Donald and evidence that I wasn't truly a problem child, the institute had been willing to lock me away, but only at a higher cost.
    "Ruth sent me to my room while they haggled," I continued. "I grabbed my bag and her purse and crawled out the window. I was going to run away to Canada but the money only lasted as far as Chicago."
    "I was fourteen," I finished. I pushed at Jake's chest again, lightly this time.
    He pulled back, his face unreadable as he stared at me. I brushed my hands against my cheeks, my knuckles stained by mascara from all the crying I had done. Rolling one of my sleeves up to my elbow, I gestured at the tattoos.
    "This isn't evidence of some self-destructive streak," I accused as I remembered some of his comments to me that first night at the club. "It was camouflage. But the only way I could survive was to display myself, so a lot of fucking good that did."
    Jake reached out and slowly rolled the sleeve back down. Whether or not the gesture was meant to comfort me, I only felt sick and cold inside.
    "I made one friend in Chicago," I said, an image of Charlie Warren surfacing before I could shoot it down. "He helped me get identification so I could work, helped me invent a fake history."
    I shut off the information spigot. My life with Charlie was the only thing I had done that I truly regretted. I hadn't loved him, but I had been grateful. Before he knew how young I was, I gave him what Donald had been trying for years to get from me. When the truth came out, he had set me up with an ID saying I was eighteen and a social security number. He had even secured my first modeling gig and let me live with him a few more months, on his couch, until I could afford my own place. All without ever touching me again.
    "How old are you?" Jake asked at last.
    Lifting my head, I met his gaze and answered. "Twenty-four."
    Until that second, he thought I was twenty-six. Now he had enough information to know that I had left home at fourteen and started modeling with Razor Dolls when I was only sixteen.
    I watched emotions and thoughts flicker across his face but couldn't deduce just what they were. I thought I saw glimmers of anger, flashes of sadness, more than a little revulsion.
    "High school--"
    "Ninth grade," I snapped before he could finish. I absolutely refused to be embarrassed over my lack of formal education. "Next question."
    "The institute--" he started.
    I interrupted again. "Shut down, its directors indicted a few years after they tried to lock me up."
    "You could have gone to the police at..."
    Something in my face must have frozen his tongue.
    I yanked up my sleeve a second time and gestured at my skin and over-generous flesh. "You really think anyone wants to listen to someone like me accusing Ozzy and Harriet?"
    "I didn't mean--"
    "Yeah," I bit out, "you did."
    It always came down to blaming the victim because the truth was too uncomfortable.
    Shoving the table away from me, I stood up. Anger, hurt and hate filled me. I pointed my finger at him, my hand shaking wildly from all the adrenaline coursing through my body. "I'm going and I only told you all this so that you know, whatever trouble you want to send my way about my legal name or the contracts, I don't deserve it."
    He stood and I circled the table as fast as my plump thighs and high heels would allow. I held my palm up, hoping to stop his approach.
    "I have almost every dollar you gave me because I knew this would end badly one way or another. So you'll have your money back, just don't call the cops..."
    Jake came to a sudden stop, the only motion in his body the slow blink of his eyes.
    "Just what are you saying, Alexa?"
    Damn, the man was dense! How many times did I have to