The Perfect Con (A Bad Boy Romance Novel) (Bad Boy Confessions Book 1) Read Online Free Page B

whatever, Sofi.”
    “I was converting to lesbianism because I’d been seriously wounded by a player,” I reminded her acidly. “Ivy League—I mean, Leo—is…well—okay—I don’t know him that well. But—I’m not in love, am I? No. I’m on vacation. He’s sexy, and he’s mysterious, and he wants to go dancing.”
    “Relatively speaking,” Madeline murmured.
    “He wants to talk business, and I want to go dancing,” I corrected myself hotly. “We’re already showing how well we can compromise together.”
    “I know you, Sofi,” Madeline went on. “That’s all I’m saying. You’re going to build yourself a trap, swear it isn’t there, fall right into it, and then comfort yourself by building a whole other trap in someone else’s name. It’s kind of depressing.”
    “Yeah, well, you’re wrong,” I insisted—though I quickened my pace and refused to look over at her. “Like I said. I’m on vacation. It’s not like I’m in love with the guy!”

4
Leo
    “ S o , Garrison’s,” Gabe mused in the passenger seat of my Porsche 911. “Where hot girls go to become bored and leave.”
    “This isn’t a fucking date,” I reminded him for the third time. I laid on the horn as a low rider swept in front of me. “Hey, douche-bag, is wherever you need to go worth dying for?” I yelled out the window, then shifted my attention to the other douche-bag in my immediate vicinity.
    So maybe I was a little more tense than usual. I swallowed at the vivid memory of the boho chic crime daughter, her rich auburn curls and haughty, laughing eyes, then consciously stifled the flow of blood to my groin—pretty ineffectively. She was just a girl. The world was full of them. Still—damn it—I almost liked the way she made fun of me. Was that weird? To me, it showed strength. Confidence. Not enough women are built with such hardy exteriors.
    I shunted the thoughts back down into my subconscious. This is not a date!
    “It’s a campaign,” I reminded Gabe tensely. “Don’t ruin it with your mouth.” Gabe scoffed and reached for the dial on the radio, which was currently playing a slow symphonic version of an old Jane’s Addiction song. “And don’t change my stations.”
    “I’m not trying to change the station, I’m trying to change the input,” Gabe replied. “Who still listens to the radio? Seriously, what decade are you living in?”
    I glowered. “1963, the year this model was manufactured,” I reminded him staunchly. “It doesn’t have a fucking USB port, you newb.”
    Gabe sighed and sank back into his seat. “So, then, this campaign.”
    “Yes. Its aim is not to fuck Castillo’s niece,” I reminded him.
    “Obviously,” Gabe smilingly chimed.
    “Its aim is in finally putting Cyrus to use. Besides—he’s been a good boy. Perhaps it’s time to give him something for all his wasted effort. Someone to bring home to his department.” Cyrus had been on my operation for years without success. I was pretty sure I knew more about him than he knew about me. “He takes long, boozy lunches at Garrison’s.”
    “You’re really going to take down that little ballerina?”
    A pang of grief sang through me, immediately stifled. I didn’t even know the girl. And her problems—well—they weren’t my problems. “Collateral,” I explained, “for the two million and all those weeks Castillo took from us. I think it’s fair. Besides—it’ll be her first offense, and she’s a national sweetheart with a moneyed uncle. Press coverage will be insane. I give it less than three years before she’s out again. With a face like that? She might just get a suspended sentence.”
    “And a hit on you,” Gabe suggested idly.
    “You saw it too?” I asked, forgetting myself. “I thought that maybe she’s just one of those girls who always has that look in her eye.”
    “A hit,” Gabe clarified. “The kind of thing that puts a club to your skull, not a club in your boxers.”
    “Right,