Training Her Curves - London (A BBW Billionaire Domination & Submission Romance) Read Online Free PDF Page B

hands. It didn't matter if it was illustrations, dresses, or decorating a room. It only mattered that it had some permanency in the real world, a quality sorely lacking before my father's death.
    "Do I get as many questions as I want?" I asked, hoping I hadn't just wasted one of a very small, finite number of available queries.
    "Depends, Ree."
    Another sigh. I didn't know a lot about Simon to begin with. He barely existed on the Internet despite his wealth. Dylan wouldn't talk about him. Our phone conversations hadn't gone beyond design and were almost always antagonistic. His logic in emails seemed inhuman and his voice on the phone calls ridiculous.
    "He's smart," I started, hesitantly.
    "Genius," Rick corrected. "Holds over one hundred patents, but you would have to know all his holding companies to realize the number and variety as he always creates a company to hold the patent. But all the work is his."
    I absorbed the information, but didn't know what to do with it.
    "Sometimes, on the phone, he sounds a bit...flamboyant. But just his voice." When Rick said nothing, I tried to explain a little better. "Dylan said that Simon is like some book character called the Scarlett Pimpernel, how it's all an act to deceive."
    That earned a small guffaw from Rick, followed by more silence.
    "You disagree?" I poked.
    "Not at all," Rick answered. "I'm just trying to decide how much to tell you."
    I shot upright into a sitting position. Rick's voice had taken on a dark tone, one that sent chills, the bad kind, down my spine. "Is he dangerous, would he--"
    A low growl of warning cut off any further speculation on my part.
    "Do you really think I would place..."
    His words trailed off. I knew if I puzzled over them long enough, I would figure out something important, but Rick didn't give me the time to think.
    "If I were going to pick a character from a book to be Simon, it would be Evan Tanner."
    "Help a girl out," I half-whined. "Big brother already highlighted how poorly read I am beyond vampires and warped billionaires."
    "A Lawrence Block character," Rick laughed. " The Thief Who Couldn't Sleep, to be exact. Except, the metal that invaded Tanner's brain and obliterated his sleep center was battlefield shrapnel."
    Brain...invaded...shrapnel? What the fuck?
    "Wait, you're saying Simon barely sleeps and he has a piece of metal in his head?" Now I was officially astounded -- although chronic insomnia went a little way in explaining and exculpating the irritating hours he sometimes called or messaged.
    "It was a bullet, long since removed, and he never sleeps," Rick corrected. "How do you think he has a hundred patents?"
    My pulse had alternated between dipping low and racing fast throughout the conversation. The word "bullet," especially with all my existing anxiety over Mishka's disappearance sent my heart rate through the roof. As hard as the organ was pounding, it was certain to break out of my chest at any second.
    "You're saying someone shot--" I stopped, suddenly incredulous. "Are you lying? Or, rather why are you lying? He's fucking perfect to look at. No way has his head has been physically injured by a bullet and his body--"
    I decided to shut my mouth before I praised Simon's looks too much. Well, I already had, but I didn't need to go on. "Tell me, Rick. Is this a game or a con the two of you are playing?"
    The words were harsh, my tone even harsher. Tears welled along the barrier of my lower eyelids but I would not allow myself the release of crying.
    "If you think it's either," Rick answered. "You should leave the hotel immediately and hop the next plane home, princess. Good--"
    "Wait," I shouted, knowing his next word would be "bye" and I'd lose whatever chance I had to find out more about Simon and decide if this was all an ill-considered joke.
    "I'm afraid," I confessed to keep him on the line, my tears finally falling fat and hot against my cheeks. I couldn't tell Rick that I had an excellent reason for being paranoid