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

fries and shakes just because they want to be polite. He was in fucking love with me.
    “I, uh, yeah,” I said, smothering the big-ass grin threatening to split my face in two. “That sounds really fun, actually. You wouldn’t mind? I thought you hated it.”
    Leo nodded and smiled back at me. God, those lips. “I do hate it,” he assured me. “But like I said. You deserve it.”
    “Well, great,” I beamed. “I’d still like to catch a shower at home and stuff, though.” I cleared my throat. “Still have a shitload of sand in my hair.”
    “Okay.” Leo briefly touched my arm, but it was enough to send those damn butterflies nuts in my stomach again. His eyes were like a field of freaking storm clouds. “How about seven?”
    “Seven sounds perfect,” I breathed, then cursed myself as I was heading out the door. I needed to get my head out of my ass about this guy before it was lodged up there permanently. I can’t remember the last time I felt so happy and so stupid at the same time.

    * * *
    I charged through the foyer , stripping off my shoes as I went, and passed the living room on my way to the stairwell, where I was hoping to go up and find a nice hot shower to revive my feminine wiles.
    “There you are,” Madeline’s voice called from the den. “Where have you been all day?”
    “I think ‘all day’ might be a generous term,” I said, turning from the stairwell and sauntering into the living room. “Considering that I left here around one in the afternoon. You were still in la-la land.”
    Madeline rolled her eyes. She was draped across one of the sofas, ensconced in a quilt. “All right, where have you been all—the past four hours?”
    I raked a palm through my curls. “Well—”
    “Leo?” Madeline asked, raising one perfectly penciled brow cynically.
    “Yes,” I answered, trying to keep things as vague as possible. I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of Madeline, too. “We’re about to go for a business dinner. I just came to change.”
    “A business dinner,” Madeline said flatly.
    “I’m on vacation!” I repeated my mantra, stalking out of the room and up the stairs.
    “From common sense, or…?” she countered, yelling from the couch but following me no further. “Just think, Sofi, while YOU’RE on vacation, HE’S not. He’s working.”
    I paused and leaned over the bannister, glowering. That was annoyingly perceptive of her. “What exactly is that supposed to mean?”
    “That he’s working an angle,” Madeline clarified.
    I came pounding down the stairs, infuriated. For someone with almost no emotional register, she could be a real thorn for those around her.
    “What the hell are you talking about?” I demanded. “What ANGLE? We’re both professionals. We’re associates. This is business—”
    “Enemies,” Madeline disagreed, leaning back again to lounge in the throne she had built herself out of the quilt-strewn couch. It was now ringed by melted daiquiris and open bottles of fingernail polish. She propped her foot up on a pillow and carefully selected a deep purple, glittery polish. “And you don’t even know it. Too busy getting lobotomized by his schlong. You’re right where he wants you, mamacita.”
    “Since when are we enemies? We both want the same things: the Heart of Icarus, and to get off with ridiculous amounts.”
    Madeline’s mouth twisted up into a dark little smile as she painted one thick stripe down the center of her big toe. “Hold on, I need to focus,” she breathed, but I knew that smile couldn’t possibly mean anything good. When she was finished perfectly painting her big toe, she leaned back and dunked the brush into the polish again. “Okay, maybe I’m wrong,” she allowed, shrugging. But when she looked back to me again, her eyes were sparkling with sadistic amusement.
    “What’s so funny?” I demanded. Normally, her fucked-up sense of humor really appealed to me. She wasn’t the type of girl who worried