Badass In My Bed 3 (Badass #3) by Rae Lynn Blaise Read Free Book Online Page A

fanciest, hippest places in the city to be seen together. While I doubt anyone’s actually paying attention to us, Blaine’s convinced we’re under the microscope, so every motion is painstakingly choreographed to make it look like we’re a young couple in love.
    It’s tough to fake something like that when I’ve forgotten how to smile. I’m drowning in this new, exhausting life, but I’m too numb to care, so I let myself be carried along in Blaine’s wake. It’s easier to do what he says.
    The only things that make me feel alive are when I’m playing music or listening to Fallen Angels, but hearing Dylan’s voice sends shards of pain like glass straight to my heart. That’s not what I want to feel, so most days, I’m happier to be numb.
    But in the cold hours of the night, when I remember the warmth of his body beside me, below me, inside me, I give in and gorge on his music, aching to feel one scrap of connection to the man who let me walk away.
    Blaine leans closer. “Are you feeling all right?”
    I nod. “Just tired.”
    “I imagine it will be worse, once we start… you know.”
    IVF. Blaine decided it would look more authentic if I get pregnant before we get married. He’s agreed to wait until mid-season. At least that way I’ll have time to finish one season before the baby comes.
    Even with full-time nannies, it will be another year before I can rejoin the orchestra.
    I swallow more wine, drenching the panicky feeling in my gut.
    “Porter!” Blaine warns me with his eyes while shining a smile at Porter Lofthouse, ambling toward our table. “What a pleasant surprise. Care to join us?”
    Porter shakes Blaine’s proffered hand and shakes his head. “I’m just here for a meeting with a grants committee. If all goes well, we’ll be able to upgrade the lighting. How are you?”
    “We’re fine, just enjoying a nice meal.”
    Porter looks at my plate. “How’s the duck? I always mean to try it then end up going for the lamb instead.”
    “It’s delicious,” Blaine answers for me.
    “Oh, looks like that’s my group over there. Have a good night, you two.” Porter saunters off toward another table.
    Blaine’s already rigid posture gets more severe.
    Spikes of annoyance drive right through my temples. Father did the same thing, parading me around at his events, but God forbid anyone actually speak to me or listen to my opinion.
    “Can we skip dessert? I’ve got a headache coming on.” I massage my temples for effect, though a headache is appearing, strong and fast.
    “Sure.” He leans closer. “It will make it look like we were… eager… to get home.” He motions for the check as I finish my wine.
    Blaine’s hand dips inappropriately close to my ass as we pass Porter on the way out.
    Porter winks at Blaine, enjoying the show.
    I seethe.
    The valet brings Blaine’s Range Rover around, and he opens my door, waiting until I’m nestled in the seat to shut it for me.
    This whole thing is making me feel less and less like a capable adult. He chooses what I wear, what I eat, where we go. It’s all for show, not because he actually cares.
    I turn on the radio and punch the pre-set buttons—only classical stations—so I fiddle with the dial, wading through static until a rock song comes on. The crunchy tones of the guitars cut through my numbness a little, and I bob to the bass line. The unfamiliar singer weaves through the rhythm guitar, making an interesting counterpoint that—
    “How can you listen to this noise?” Blaine kills the radio, buckles up, and pulls the vehicle away from the curb.
    “Some of it’s pretty interesting if you’d give it a chance.”
    He derisively snorts. “You could hand a five-year-old a guitar, and they’d accidentally play something just as ‘complicated’ as that. You know what they say about monkeys and Shakespeare. It’s the same concept.”
    The city lights go by, a blur in my window. Was I that snobby once? Will I become that way again if