Crazy Nights (The Barrington Billionaires Book 3) by Danielle Stewart Read Free Book Online Page A

off to college she dated a few guys and slept with a couple of them. None had ever touched her the way Emmitt had. But none of them had ever left her so abruptly either. She must have done something or said something to run him off.
    She was shaken from her thoughts by a knock on the hotel door. “Yes?” she answered tentatively.
    “It’s Emmitt.” His gruff voice penetrated the door and sent shivers up her spine.
    “I’m just getting out of the shower; hang on, I’ll get my robe,” she said, running her fingers through her wet hair to bring some life to it.
    “No,” he bit back quickly. “Just get dressed and meet me in the lobby in fifteen minutes.”
    “Okay,” she said through the door, looking quickly through the peephole to see if he was still there.
    He looked annoyed, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he clenched his mouth shut. Emmitt stood for another moment or two, looking like there was more to say, then shook his head and walked away from her door.
    After dressing quickly and blow-drying her hair, Evie hustled toward the lobby. She had a million questions for him and kept faltering between being angry and being sorry, even though she wasn’t positive why she felt either.
    “Where have you been?” she asked, trying to sound cool and unaffected when she strode up to him in the glamourous hotel lobby.
    “Doing recon,” he answered, without looking up from his cell phone. “You still dead set on staying up here? If you are, I have a job you can do.”
    “I thought you might come back or at least call me. Did I do something wrong? The way you left—”
    He cut her off, finally dropping his phone down. “That’s not happening again,” he asserted. “You want to do some stuff and make some money here, fine. I can probably use you. But we’re not doing that again.”
    “Why?” she asked, fidgeting with her hands nervously. “You’re the one who kept saying—”
    “You just aren’t my type. I’m not interested.”
    “Oh,” she croaked out. “Yeah, all right. That’s fine.”
    “So when I knock on your door, don’t answer it with just that robe on again.”
    She looked up at him curiously as she worked it over in her head. “Why would it matter what I had on if you’re not interested in me?”
    He opened his mouth to speak but closed it quickly as if the wheels in his head spun for an answer. “I need you to go to Lance’s office today and plug this into one of the computers.” The subject changed so fast and with such assertiveness she didn’t feel she could drive him harder toward answering her question.
    “All right,” she said, taking a small zip drive from his hand. “Am I just supposed to walk in there and do it? Won’t I need a badge or something?”
    “Those are your badge,” he said, pointing to her chest.
    “Excuse me,” she asked incredulously, covering herself with her arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “The daytime security guard’s name is Sinclair. He’s a sucker for a damsel in distress and a nice set of boobs. You wear that pink top you have with the little roses on it, give him a few kind words, wink, and he’ll let you right up.”
    “Which pink shirt?” she asked, ignoring how insulting the rest of the proposal was.
    “That one with the lace trim. You wore it to Mathew and Jessica’s that night they were celebrating some shit. I can’t remember.”
    “You can’t remember it was Jessica’s birthday, but you remember the shirt I was wearing?” She cocked her head to the side as she glared at him. There was something behind the shutters of his eyes but they were nailed shut.
    “Go change,” he said, looking down at his watch. “I’d like to be in and out of there early.”
    “Then what?”
    “Then I take the data and information you download and start formulating a proposal for Asher on the security assessment.”
    “But I mean, like what about lunch? Or tonight, what else are we doing up here? I’m sick of eating room