The Perfect Con (A Bad Boy Romance Novel) (Bad Boy Confessions Book 1) by Alexa Wilder, Raleigh Blake

sauntered over from her musky little cloud, stripping off her top, implying things about my honor which were actually pretty accurate. It wasn’t any of those things, but I was shaking. As I pulled my keys from my pants pocket, my hands were trembling.
    I wrenched open the car door and ducked inside.
    It wasn’t that Madeline had come on to me. That was no big deal. The world is full of shitty people, like Maddy, and they always gravitate toward decent ones off whom they can leech, like Sofi.
    It was that she was right about me.
    And she said she’d been trying to tell Sofi, but she wouldn’t listen. Because, for some crazy reason, Sofi liked me.
    As I twisted the key in the ignition and peeled away from the Castillo estate, I felt like I was going to puke.

9
Sofi
    I ’m not going to lie. I was confused, and then disappointed, when I woke up with the beach sunshine burning into my face, the fire pit dead, and my partner in crime having slipped away in the night. It was early in the morning when I tiredly pushed that quilt off my naked body—I didn’t remember cuddling up underneath it, but then, I hardly remembered my own name by the end of it all—and I fished my clothes from the sand—Leo’s were gone, of course—and dressed, then hobbled back to the house. I made a pot of coffee and yelled for Maddy, who loves coffee (of course), but got no response. No surprise, either. She’s a big night owl.
    And I’m not going to lie about kind of waiting for the phone to ring all damn day, like a loser.
    When it finally jangled around noon, I pounced on my luminous cell phone like it was an oasis in the desert. Fuck yeah. Leonardo Battista.
    I straightened my hair and cleared my throat, as if he could see me. Then I swiped over the phone and held it to my ear. “Hello?” Polished. Calm. Perfect.
    “Hey there,” Leo’s pleasant baritone rumbled on the line. An automatic blush thronged to my cheeks. I had such a love-hate relationship with this reaction he gave my body. “I trust you slept well.”
    “Like a goddamn kitten,” I replied. “Thanks for that, hot stuff. Where’d you run off to?”
    “I had to get home,” he answered, evasive. “But why don’t you come by today? I want to familiarize you with the floor plan my brother just picked up. And I’d like to see you again.”
    “Sure,” I said, still high on confidence. I was excited to go over the plan, but, at the same time, I was sure that he was being coy. Obviously, we weren’t JUST going to talk about motion sensors. We got off the phone and I rushed to my closet for something that screamed, “Rip me off.”
    Two hours later, I was struggling to feign interest in his explanation of the timing system on the motion sensors. He hadn’t tried to touch me once. My neckline was plunging, and I was wearing a sheer, floral beach dress that most men would probably be able to shred with their bare hands during foreplay. I was obviously up for grabs. But nothing. Nothing.
    After another hour of this ego torture, I was done. Forget it. God, I was tired of trying to figure this man out. Just FORGET it.
    I stood up from the couch, sighed loudly, and told him that I really needed to go. I was tired. “Someone kept me up past my bedtime last night,” I said, though my tone was flat and there was no air of flirtation with it.
    Leo finally looked at me. Really looked at me.
    And his eyes softened, as if a layer of cataracts had suddenly, graciously peeled away.
    “I’m sorry,” he said, and I went still. “You’re right. We’ve been drilling this stuff for hours, and—you deserve a break.” He pursed his lips and forged on, “Want to hit up that place you like so much? Belly of the Whale?”
    I stared at him for a moment, uncertain how to take this invitation. Fuck it, I couldn’t help it. I grinned. Leo could flip-flop all he wanted, but I knew the truth. He wanted me. Men like Leo didn’t just go to kitschy restaurants whose specialties are their