The Reckless Secret, Complete Series (An Alpha Billionaire In Love BBW Romance) by Alexa Wilder Page B

herself.
    Who did he think he was? He might be Mr. Desirable Bachelor Number One in certain circles, but that kind of crap didn’t wash with her. She didn’t care that he was panty-meltingly attractive, that he oozed money and power, that he was dynamite in bed. The charm-offensive way he’d taken down her barriers had been little more than a tactic and it left a bitter taste in her mouth now, a sourness that smothered all appealing thoughts of him in ugly truth. He was a player, and she was no game.
    She called her brother, needing to hear a friendly voice right now. Wanting to feel that old comfort of her brother’s care.
    What she got instead was a snappy tone that left her reeling.
    “It’s not a good time right now, sis.”
    “What? Why?” She was standing at her floor-to-ceiling window, staring out at the gloomy grey skyline like the world’s most pathetic cliché. And here we have our classic jilted heroine , said a voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like Aunt Constance, standing in misery and feeling sorry for herself. She could almost hear the Adele soundtrack.
    “I’m busy.”
    The words brought her out of her own ridiculous thoughts and back to reality. And not what he said—but how he sounded as he muttered them. Strained and scratchy and weak.
    “You don’t sound good,” she said, frowning, already turning away from the window and searching out a pair of shoes. “Should I come over?”
    “I’m fine. I’m just…tired. Don’t fuss.”
    “I’m not fussing. I’m worried . This can’t be the flu—you were okay last night.”
    “Speaking of last night—what happened to you?”
    The abrupt change of subject worked—instantly she was flooded with embarrassment and anger again, drowning out her concern for her brother’s wellbeing.
    “Nothing.”
    “Mags,” he said flatly. “You disappeared before the cake even came out.”
    She considered lying. A story about getting a headache and slipping off to bed was on the tip of her tongue. But there was a part of her, the part that still lived with the memories of her broken childhood, of her brother’s strength in pulling her through it—that part of her desperately wanted to confide in Grant, just so he could make her feel better about it somehow. Like he always did.
    She opened her mouth, closed it, swallowed dryly, and then took a sharp breath and said, “Declan.”
    “What about him?” Grant asked, and then almost immediately: “Oh my God, Maggie, tell me you didn’t.”
    Her cheeks burned hot and she had to resist the urge to abruptly hang up. “You made me dance with him!”
    “Yeah, dance . To give me a break from your nagging. I didn’t want you to hook up with him, Jesus Christ.”
    Nagging . He didn’t say it harshly, but it unsettled her all the same. Like she’d become a nuisance in his life, one he wanted to palm off to some other poor unfortunate soul.
    She stored that thought away for another time and brought her mind back to the hideously mortifying topic at hand.
    “I thought he was a good friend of yours.”
    “He is. You know we go way back. Which is why I know that this—you and him—is a terrible idea. It was bad enough hearing you’d been on a couple of dates with him, but sleeping with him?”
    Rather than make her feel better in any way, the thinly veiled accusation in his tone put her hackles up. He was judging her. Never mind how dare Declan—how dare Grant!
    “What’s the big deal?” she bit out. God, she was so done with men today. “Girls can do the casual hook-up thing, too, you know.”
    “Yeah, and as long as that’s all it was, you’ll be fine.”
    She scowled at her empty apartment. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    Hesitantly, as if he could sense the danger zone he was currently tiptoeing through, he said, “The guy’s not one for settling down, all right? He likes…fun.”
    “Fun.”
    That hollowness was slowly making a reappearance, making her wish she could end this