Dirty Beautiful Rich Part One

BOOK: Dirty Beautiful Rich Part One
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Dirty Beautiful Rich

by

Eva Devon

Part 1

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are either the work of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.

Dirty Beautiful Rich Part One

Copyright © 2014 by Maire Creegan

All rights reserved. No redistribution is authorized.

All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any electronic or mechanical means—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without written permission.

Cover design by Kati Rodriguez / Romance Wrangler

Cover photo by
 
Depositphotos.com/konradbak

For more information: [email protected]

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

This story would have been impossible without Kati, Theresa, Missy, Misty, Barbara, and Patricia but most especially I must thank Lindsey who always holds my hand and tells me to jump. And Jenn. . . Who gave me an unintended push. | For my son. | May you always know how loved you are.

SNEAK PEAK: | Dirty Beautiful Rich Part Two | Out Jan 30

This story would have been impossible without Kati, Theresa, Missy, Misty, Barbara, and Patricia but most especially I must thank Lindsey who always holds my hand and tells me to jump. And Jenn. . . Who gave me an unintended push.
For my son.
May you always know how loved you are.

Chapter 1

J
ulie Doyle had choked down her very last starvation inducing diet shake. This time she meant it. She picked up the unwieldy cardboard box full of insanely expensive fat burning liquid and cursed. The thing barely fit in her arms and she used her knee to quickly balance the half full box.

Of course, it had been Derrick’s idea. She could still remember with a sick feeling in her stomach him whispering,
but baby just think how hot you’d be if you lost thirty pounds
. God, it was so hard not to hate herself for being such an idiot. Again. She grabbed her keys out of the dish by the entry with the tips of her fingers then hauled the front door open. She huffed for breath then managed to wedge herself through the opening and slid out into the hall. She should have done this before she got dressed up for the official
We Hate Derrick the Cheater
night her friends had arranged, but she just hadn’t been able to face the box and the fact she’d tried for three whole weeks to eat nothing but liquid. For him.

Truthfully, she hadn’t wanted to go out tonight. She’d have way preferred staying home and binge watching something on her laptop but Stella had been insistent. And Stella usually got what she wanted. Besides, a proper man hate was in order and so, she’d maneuvered herself into her one sparkly, slightly too tight, club dress, pulled on leggings to protect the world from her less than svelte thighs, and finally buckled her feet into shoes that might have doubled for stripper heels. Why designers thought women shouldn’t really be able to walk was beyond her, but she wanted to look as good as she could.

Down the hall, she balanced the box with her knee then pushed the elevator button several times. She really needed to move or one day she was going to die in an elevator accident. Though there was a certificate that said the thing was serviced last year she had her doubts.  The green elevator door shuddered open and she stepped in, wincing at the strange odor like sweat and old curry that always seemed to hang out in the small depressing space.

As soon as the doors opened at ground level, she charged outside, feeling like she was walking the gauntlet with her contraband.

Icy wind bit through her thin leggings and cheap coat as she headed out into the winter night. God she wished she could afford a garage. Colorado winters were not great for high heels and jumping into a car and just heading out. Nope. First she’d have to haul out her snow brush and clean the car off.

But what with her student loan debt at a massive sixty-five thousand dollars and a personal loan at twenty thousand, she couldn’t exactly afford a place with a covered parking lot. She was lucky she had a reserved spot. She was even luckier she’d bought herself a Honda before her world had gone to hell a few years ago.

Going as fast as she dared in her heels, she focused on the dumpster, wishing she could fling Derrick into it instead. She let out a breath, hating that she had to think about him. How could she have thought he actually cared about her?

She’d just been one of many girls he kept on call for when he was bored and wanted to get lucky. She shook her head. She wasn’t going to think about it. She wasn’t going to think about that jaw dropping moment she’d run into one of his friends who called her the wrong name and then tried another
two
names before getting Julie. When she’d asked Derrick about it he hadn’t even tried to lie, just looked at her confused and replied,
hey baby I never said we were exclusive
.

Hey baby
was a phrase she was going to hate until she died.

When she got to the dumpster she realized the lid was down. Great. Just great. She stared at the box then at the massive black plastic dumpster lid. No way could she open it like this. Well, the faster she did it, the faster she’d get it over with. She plunked the box down, grabbed the lid and grimaced as she flung it back in the wind.

Just as she turned and bent to grab the box, her leg hit the side of the dumpster and her legging caught a rough metal edge.
Damn
!

She felt the fabric tear and cold air hit her exposed skin. Julie froze, a feeling of desperation washing over her.  Why was she even trying to go out? The night was just going to be a disaster. This was a sign. It had to be. She hated clubs anyway. She always felt like a giant squishy cow next to all those skinny perfect girls.

It would be so much easier to just pick up a bottle of merlot and hide under her quilt.

Her phone dinged and she slipped it out from her pocket.

The text was from Stella and it was only two words.
You’re coming
.

Stella had sixth sense. Julie didn’t know how her friend did it, but somehow, she always knew when Julie was just about to chicken out on a social gathering.

She fired back.
Just leaving
.

Somehow, she’d get through the night. Maybe a bottle of vodka would do it. And cake. Surely they could get cake somewhere.

She picked up the box, heaved it into the dumpster, then wrangled the lid closed. Brushing her hands off, she gave a nod of satisfaction and went to her Honda, swept the powdery snow off, jumped in, and headed out to the freeway. Tonight, was the last night she was going to let herself feel like shit about a guy. And she was going to make Stella keep her to her word this time.

Chapter 2

The base pounded with the kind of intensity that made Julie intimately acquainted with her insides. Everything shook slightly, matching the pulsing strobe and colored lights waving over the dance floor. 

She couldn’t hear anything. Everyone was shouting but they all had that opened eyed, leaning in look, as the packed room tried to hear each other. But nobody could. It wasn’t really that kind of place anyway. Nobody was going to have a life changing conversation here. One of the hottest
It
clubs of the minute, people came here to be seen and to get laid.

Julie clutched her cocktail and tried not to get elbowed in the boob as she waited for Stella and Kat to pick up their drinks. She felt exposed. She’d had to take off her torn leggings. And she hated the feeling. Her legs were her least favorite part of her body and well, in a club, she felt like they looked like twin fluorescent tubes. She was proud of herself though. She had forced herself to come inside, even without leggings.

She took a quick swig of the sugary, girly drink that Stella had ordered and fought back her anxiety. Crowds weren’t her thing.

Suddenly, she felt someone slither up beside her and she fought the urge to shrink back.

A guy, about twenty-five she’d guess, with spiked blond hair grinned down at her. “You’re hot.”

He reeked of whiskey.

She flinched. She knew what was coming. “Thanks.”

“Not like these skinny girls.” He gestured with his drink toward the floor.

It was all she could do to just nod and take another drink. “Thanks,” she said again and took a step away, staring straight ahead.

He cupped her elbow. “I mean you’ve got a great body. I bet it would fill up my hands.”

Her stomach twisted. Why did guys think if they told her this kind of stuff that she’d melt? She’d heard all the
more cushion for the pushin’
jokes there were in existence.

“I just broke up with someone,” she replied quickly, glancing back at the bar. “Not interested in anyone just now.”

“Hey, a break up is perfect.” He circled his hand around her waist. “I’ll show you a good time.”

In an instant, she couldn’t breathe. She felt frozen and not in a good way. His hand was sliding down to her butt. “Stop,” she said firmly.

“You don’t mean that,” he oozed.

She shoved at his hand.

“Look,” he said his face abruptly less nice. “I’m doing a girl like you a favor. Just enjoy it.”

“A girl like me,” she echoed.

“Yeah,” he said, trying to push his hand back around her waist.

She shoved at him. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, not taking the hint, and pressed his body against hers. No doubt, he thought he was god’s gift.  “You know,” he whispered on booze soaked breath.

She jerked away, “No, I don’t,” she said, even though she knew exactly what he meant. “What do you mean?”

He scowled, stunned that she wasn’t just doing what he wanted. He laughed suddenly. Maybe to cover for the way she wasn’t just enjoying his attention. “Look, you’re hot.”

“You said that. Please leave me alone.”

“Why are you being so difficult?” the guy whined.

“Sir.”

She tensed, looking around to see who had spoken. Her heart was slamming in her chest.

A six foot tall African American man stood just behind her, the yellow words
security
written on his black shirt. “Sir, I believe the lady wants you to leave her alone.”

“No, she doesn’t, do you honey?”

“Yes. Yes I do,” she said, her voice shaking slightly, but she squared her shoulders. 

“Its time for you to go, sir.”

“What?” The blonde snarled. “That’s bullshit. This bitch came on to me.”

The security guard sighed, then grabbed the blond haired guy like he was a rat and shoved him toward the exit. It would have been funny, the big guard manhandling the jerk like a squirming Chihuahua, except she was still too shaken.

But as they headed further away from her, she drew in a deep breath and stared back at the dance floor. Any minute her friends would be back. And she wasn’t going to let that jerk ruin her night. If anything, all he’d done was strengthen her resolve.
No more men
.

The floor was packed with mindless dancers and she knew at some point, Kat was going to want to head out there for most of the night. Kat was the outgoing one of the group who partied all the time and lived off of free booze and her fun personality.

“Miss,” a deep voice said beside her.

She blinked, realizing that another massive guy, the equivalent of a human brick wall, all in black with an earpiece was talking to her. This one was had brown hair and was wearing sunglasses in the club.

“Sorry! Thanks for getting rid of that guy,” she shouted.

The security guard nodded. “I’m sure Shawn thought it was a pleasure.”

She waited for him to go but he didn’t.

“Am I in the wrong place?” she asked. In her experience when staff talked to her, she’d managed to wander somewhere off limits. Her general cluelessness in such places only made going out more awkward, but maybe she had to fill out a report with the club or something.

The behemoth of muscle gave her a strange look. “There’s a VIP table for you and your friends.”

She smiled with relief. At least he didn’t want anything. “Oh, it’s not for us.”

He shook his head. “Yes, it is.”

Just at that moment, Stella and Kat returned from the packed bar, drinks in hand.

Julie grabbed Stella’s hand and leaned toward her, “Did you reserve a table?”

Stella laughed. “No way. Too rich for my blood.”

“See,” Julie said to the security guard.

“Miss the table is for you. On the house, ok?” Without waiting for her to argue he started up towards the VIP section

Kat let out a squee then danced behind him.

Stella shrugged. “Who knows? If it's free, we should do it.”

Julie nodded but at the same time, she felt a weird sort of anxiety. Free stuff usually wasn’t free. Was it because of that guy? That was kind of hard to believe. There had to be guys who hit on girls like that every night. And VIP tables cost hundreds of dollars, if not thousands, to reserve. Even she knew that.

BOOK: Dirty Beautiful Rich Part One
3.4Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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