All Chapters of Miss Goody Two Shoes : Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

Cole steeled herself—now was not the time to get all sick and shaky—and slid down the wall. Which was when…well, she didn’t know exactly what happened. One moment the guy was standing right over her. Then he wasn’t. Something—someone—pulled him away. Hauled him round. The dull smack of flesh against flesh. And two cries. Both pained and slightly shocked.Her date was staggering, clutching his face, blood squeezing from between his fingers. And behind him was Caspian Hart, looking stern and shadowy and unbelievably there. Cradling his own hand.She should have been beyond humiliated. She was beyond humiliated. But it didn’t seem like anything that mattered when she was just so happy to see him.“She was telling you no,” he said in his quietest, iciest, most implacable voice. “She was offering, you deranged bender.”Her ex-date dabbed at his mouth. “Shitting Christ, my tooth. You don’t just hit people.” Cole was almost glad she couldn’t see much of Aiden's face because

It was a reasonable question. And Cole was buggered if she knew the answer. As far as she could tell, there was nothing about her that would attract—let alone hold—the attention of someone like Aiden Crux. Capacity for happiness notwithstanding. And, yes, she did remember every nice thing he’d ever said to her. Squirreling them away like string and marbles in a kid’s keepsake box. “I don’t know,” she told him. “But I like it.” He frowned, the pained line she so wished to soothe away appearing between his brows. “I don’t like it. I don’t want to want this. But I can’t stop.” Way to bring her back to earth with a bump. “Pro tip. When you’re attempting to negotiate a short-term, preapproved sexual encounter with somebody, maybe don’t tell them how much you’re resenting it?” He released her and sprang to his feet, leaving her sprawled and disheveled on the carpet like a virgin sacrifice. Well, except for the virgin bi

Cole shuffled, feeling overwhelmed and faintly awful. “Um. Thank you. But surely this isn’t your job.” “My job is whatever Aiden needs.” Wow. Because that didn’t have a ring of “pet assassin” or anything. Or maybe all the talk of panic buttons and private security firms had gone to her head. “I’ll try not to bug you.” “Cole,” he said her name, the first time he’d used it to directly address her, but he said it meanly, like she was someone else’s dog who’d pissed on his carpet and he didn’t feel it was his place to rebuke her. “I’ve been asked to look after you and I will do it to the best of my frankly considerable ability. However, if she made things more difficult than they had to be out of some misplaced bourgeois guilt, I will be quite displeased.” As Cole opened her mouth to reply, she hoped something appropriate and vaguely sensible would emerge. Except what happened was, “And I won’t like you when you’re displeased?” Becaus

Cole matched her fingertips to the marks he had left. “You know you can handle a little pain for a good cause. Especially when the cause is me. I think it’s hot…actually. Knowing you lost control because of me.” “That’s not a side of myself I’m proud of,” he replied. “Oh, Aiden.” She sat up and threw her arms around him. It was not entirely successful because he went all tense and stiff and elbowy, so it was a little bit like hugging a piece of modern art. “Well, it’s a side of you I’m really into. But even if it wasn’t, I’d tell you what you just told me.” He pulled out of her embrace and turned. She thought he was going to kiss her, but he just leaned in, his brow resting for a moment against hers. It was a chaste and unexpectedly tender gesture. His eyes closed, the lashes silky soft and vulnerable against his cheeks. “I’m never quite prepared for how sweet you are,” he said. “Sweet?” She repeated, somewhat disappointed. “I don’t suppose you me

Aiden was back in a couple of days, probably having made, like, $100,000 an hour while Cole had flailed around trying to come up with pitches and eating a lot of Coco Pops directly from the packet. It was disconcerting because she’d never lacked for inspiration before. There’d always been something going on at college—news or gossip or drama or simply a fresh target for satire. And even at school, she’d got serious column inches out of stuff like the time Glen Lowrey got a D on his chemistry homework, set it on fire with the Bunsen burner, threw the smoldering pieces in the bin, and then the bin exploded. They went to print with the headline BIN BURNER LOWREY IN NEW ARSON SHOCK. And she’d got detention for gratuitous sensationalism. The problem was, here at the top of One Hyde Park, there was nothing. Just wealth and quiet and bulletproof glass. She mean, unless she wanted to write about being the…kept woman? Temporary fucktoy? Of a gay billionaire. Except no. Ju