Pretty Bitches Read Online Free Page A

find some other wounded chick to use your game on.” I could feel the traitorous tears coming. I yanked my arm from his grip and headed for the door.
     
    He caught me easily. “Hey, look, I’m sorry if I’ve offended you somehow...”
     
    I don’t know if it was the sincere look in his eyes or the familiar sound of his accent but my shell cracked and I dejectedly allowed the first public tear to roll down my cheek. His startled expression gave me the fuel to power my legs through the door and basically sprint to my car.
     
    Just as we were pulling away I saw his fleeting image—arms outstretched pleading—as I turned and let the rest of the tears follow.
     
    What the fuck is happening to me? I couldn’t gather a single plausible explanation. My brain was firing away but coming up empty. This man had the ability to render me completely useless and anyone that had that power over me needed to be exterminated. I couldn’t allow myself another interaction with him. It was detrimental to my sanity and needed to be avoided at all costs.
     
    The remainder of the week was spent brooding and obsessively working. I was avidly aware that the sheer amount of work I’d accomplished was mind numbing. I was a machine and that was usually the case when my brain wanted a break to process something I wasn’t prepared to face.
     
    By the time the weekend rolled around I was just about packed for my Anchorage excursion. I was looking forward to a bit of downtime, actually. To get away from this contrived city would do me some good. I yanked the zipper on my monogrammed bag and placed it atop my trunk.
     
    It was just about five o’clock and I meandered over to the wet bar grabbing my usual crystal glass and tipping the decanter a cool eighty degrees watching the amber liquid melt into my glass. I sipped while I carried it to the bathroom and finished packing my products.
     
    Sleep came easy thanks to the whisky. The alarm buzzed at six-twenty and I groaned as I slipped the eye mask down and sauntered into the bathroom. Once I was showered and dressed I began to feel giddy about my trip. I called Elliott up to help with the bags. Within twenty minutes we were heading to the airport.
     
    We pulled to the private airstrip and I watched as they loaded my bags. I walked across the tarmac and stepped up to board. My usual request was sitting there—finalized edition waiting for my approval and, Glenlivet, of course.
     
    I settled into the leather armchair and began my assault. Three hours later I had my final approval on the materials and shot my changes to Alison, zipping my tablet away for the remainder of my trip.
     
    We touched down at four in the afternoon and it was a dismal gray. Even through my down jacket and thick wool sweater the cold bit my skin. I descended the stairs and crossed the pavement to the awaiting car. Pamela and Charles were sitting in the adjacent seats smiling, well smirking actually.
     
    “What the fuck are those looks for? Did you run over a moose or something?”
     
    Pamela hung her head and laughed. “Just seeing you in that coat and in the wilderness has got me a little miffed. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you out of your stilettos and Burberry.”
     
    I sneered. “Well, I don’t think most people have seen you with your clothes on .”
     
    Charles snorted into his hand and cleared his throat before he said, “So, the location is confirmed as are the models. They flew in yesterday. We have a new photographer and he is supposed to be absolutely amazing. Only really shoots nature and outdoor scenes.” He was smiling broadly like he had just scored a winning touchdown.
     
    “What the fuck happened to Carl? I always work with Carl. I don’t want a replacement. Get me Carl.” I reached for my cell and slid the lock waving it in the air checking for a signal.
     
    They looked between one another. “Well… um… well, you see, Carl declined the job. Said he would rather swallow nails