Free Bad Boy's Cinderella: A Sports Romance by Alexa Wilder, Raleigh Blake Page B

by.
    “There’s no guessing where you’ve come from.”
    I nodded. “Doesn’t really take a genius to figure out.”
    I would’ve regretted my catty tone, but I didn’t have the energy. I was still reeling from the abrupt ending of my perfect night with Reade, and all I’d wanted to do was take a long bath and wallow in misery for a while. Instead I was in some kind of polite standoff with his mother, while his sister hovered a few feet away, looking at me with disgust.
    “We need to come inside and have a little chat,” Mrs. Lennox said, glancing around as if she thought she was a spy on some kind of top secret mission.
    “Can it wait?”
    “No.”
    “Fine.”
    I let them into my apartment, keeping my fingers crossed that Jazz wasn’t doing anything inappropriate. But the place was empty, so I led them into the living room and opened the blinds, turned to find them standing in the middle of the room with their purses clutched to them, looking for all the world like two people terrified of contamination.
    “Can I get you a coffee, or…?”
    Mrs. Lennox looked up from the half-eaten sandwich Jazz had left on the side table. “Sit down, Ms. Weatherby.”
    “Kylie’s fine,” I said, but got no response.
    They sat on the couch while I perched on the edge of the armchair, and Mrs. Lennox did not beat around the bush.
    “We’re aware of the pictures,” she said bluntly. “Of you coming out of Reade’s home this morning. In next to nothing.”
    I blinked at her, my mind running entirely blank. “But that was…less than two hours ago. How—”
    “We have connections, Ms. Weatherby. Highly influential ones.”
    “Uh-huh.” Of course they did. I didn’t know why I’d even questioned it.
    “Fortunately for Reade, we’ve been able to issue a block on those pictures.”
    “Fortunately?” I said, feeling my hackles rise.
    I knew what Mrs. Lennox was thinking—it was clear on both her and her daughter’s faces—but I didn’t expect her to express it so plainly, so I was struck dumb by it when Mrs. Lennox opened her mouth and said with an entire lack of emotion, “Your presence in our family and in our affairs is an embarrassment.”
    Georgia turned her nose up, silently agreeing, but Mrs. Lennox wasn’t quite done yet.
    “For one, you’re a daughter of a convict. A man currently serving time.”
    It was like the walls were closing in on me, making my chest feel very tight. “For something he barely had any involvement with,” I said. “His term is minimal.”
    Mrs. Lennox waved it away with a careless hand. “Nevertheless, we don’t want that sort of thing connected to our family. Especially in light of the current scandal with the team. Reade needs someone respectable, but more than that,” she said, her tone growing colder with each word, “someone who understands our world, and how to behave in it.”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “You wouldn’t find a single eligible young woman in our society who would be stupid enough to leave a man’s house in her underwear.”
    It was on the tip of my tongue: I was in your son’s shirt, actually, with NO underwear on . But I didn’t think that would go down well. “It was an accident. I thought it was—”
    “I don’t care,” Mrs. Lennox said, effectively shutting me up. “Let’s stop playing games, shall we? I can give you what you’re really after.” Then, with her daughter smirking nastily beside her, she reached into her purse and withdrew something that made my stomach turn over with sickening slowness.
    “What’s that?” I croaked, though I didn’t need to. Didn’t want to. Wanted, in fact, to get up and walk away, slam the door, forget any part of this conversation was happening. That someone would care so much about separating me from Reade, that this was an option, lying there on the coffee table, like a neon sign flashing something like the end.
    “That, you silly girl,” Mrs. Lennox said, “is ten thousand