A Wifey for the Bad Boy(174)

The sidewalk was slick with ice under her heels, and she was careful to take small steps as she walked to the bus stop. As a public defender, her offices were in the courthouse, something that she was grateful for as the lampposts lit her way through the quiet night. It was like the city was sleeping, finally taking a break from its usual non-stop way of life.

Claire checked her wristwatch. The bus was due in fifteen minutes, though she knew it liked to arrive early sometimes. Speeding up a little, she barely registered the alley that she was passing by until two hands shot out of the shadows and dragged her into it.

Her scream was muffled by fingers covering her face, and she kicked as she felt an arm curled around her stomach. “Shhh,” a voice whispered in her ear. It was a man, though she could’ve guessed that much by his strength alone, and she struggled in his grip as he only pulled her farther down the alley. “Calm down, girl.” She flinched, freezing when she felt something sharp against her side. “I don’t want to kill unnecessarily.”

“Mhm!” Claire tried to yell, but he just held her tighter.

“Your bag,” he said, his voice excited. “Give it to me—”

“Hey!”

The man holding her jumped, and she gasped as she felt his weapon cut into her blazer from surprise. A figure was running toward them—a man—his bright eyes flashing in the darkness. “Let her go!” he yelled, his hands fisted at his sides as he raced to them.

“Damn,” her captor cursed. She felt him release her, but her legs were too numb to hold herself up. As his footsteps sounded his escape, she fell to her knees, catching herself as she splayed her hands out in front of her. The cold of the alley’s road beneath her was a welcomed sting, and she thought about curling up on it as her heart continued to jump into her throat.

“Are you okay?” a breath puffed into her face. The man who’d scared her mugger away was kneeling in front of her, his blue eyes inches from hers. “Ah,” he said, realization startling his perfect features. “Claire? Claire McGee?”

She blinked, looking into the face of her savior. He looked normal enough; nice enough. He had a straight nose, oddly perfect eyebrows, and a soft mouth. But the way her said her name made her nervous—like he knew her.

She thought she recognized it.

“Uh,” she tried, swallowing hard for a moment. “Chad…?”

“Aw fuck,” he breathed, and she smelled peppermint. “C’mere,” he said, pulling her up by her arms. She was slightly relieved when he didn’t try to grab her waist, but his close proximity was still jarring after being held by knifepoint. She let him lead her back out into the street in a confused haze.

“Over here! Ainsley!” he yelled suddenly, making Claire flinch. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“Sir?” another man suddenly appeared, though he was much older.

“Help me get her to the car, she’s been attacked.”

Claire jumped at the new set of hands coming up to support her back, but Chad was still next to her, so she didn’t resist. They led her to a black limousine, one with chrome handles that Chad opened to urge her inside. She slid in, all the way to the other end of the seat, and Chad stepped in after her. The other man, Ainsley, must have closed the door after them. It was only a moment before he slipped into the front seat ahead of them.

“Claire,” Chad said as the man started the car. “This is Ainsley, my driver. Ainsley,” he said, leaning between the divider. “Take us back to my place, would you?” Then, sitting back beside Claire, he said, “You’re staying with me tonight.”

The ride to his ‘place’ was quick, which didn’t really surprise Claire. Chad was the rich son of a rich father, something she’d learn quickly when she’d met him back in college. She’d been a scholarship student then, a girl who had gone to public school all her life and was lucky enough to have the talent to get into Yale. Chad, on the other hand, was the child of a Yale man, and his entrance was all but prophesized.

They’d run into each other during her second year, though his reputation had more than preceded him. He was a womanizing billionaire asshole who loved his scotch and his lacrosse games. It wasn’t all that much of a shock, then, when she saw him heavily making out with a student in the east hallway.

The girl had been too wrapped up in the kiss to notice, but Chad had met her eyes, a sick smirk on his face as he held up a finger to keep quiet. It wasn’t any of Claire’s business, so she kept walking, pretending she hadn’t seen anything.

That had just made Chad interested.