Scandal: A BAD BOY Romance Novel
Read Scandal: A BAD BOY Romance Novel Online
Authors: Kendra King
CHAPTER ONE
Scandal
Scandal
A Bad Boy Romance Novel
Published by SINdulgence Books Publishing
© 2016 Kendra King
All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author's imagination.
Please note that this work is intended only for adults over the age of 18 and all characters represented as 18 or over.
Kindle Edition
Want to know about new releases, freebies, and discounts from some of today's hottest romance authors?
Click here
to join the
SINdulgence
Books mailing list!
To receive free books in exchange for reviews,
click here
!
#
License Notes
License Notes
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
~~~
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the expressed written permission of the author or publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.
~~~
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events or locales is purely coincidental. All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older. This book is for sale to adult audiences only. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers.
#
SCANDAL
Chapter 1
Be punctual. Don't gossip. Look professional. Find someone to go to lunch with. Be cheerful.
One by one, I tried to recall the pieces of advice I had read in "10 Ways to Make a Great First Impression at Your New Job!" I'd already reviewed what felt like a dozen websites, soaking in any and all pieces of advice I could. This was the first job I had gotten that wasn't in retail or the food industry.
If that wasn't enough to make it a big deal, the fact that it was at a place like Harding & Co
was
. I quickly glanced at myself in the overhead mirror, smacking my mauve-painted lips together before redirecting my eyes to the road.
My ancient Honda isn't good for much, but, at least, I can always rely on the mirror,
I thought. Excitement washed over me again about my first job post-graduation
.
The fact that I'd received a position after only my
first
interview at a place like Harding & Co was practically unheard of, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride.
Friends with higher GPAs had been required to go through more rigorous interview processes for companies not anywhere close to Harding & Co's ranking.
I heard that one person had to go through five different interview stages
plus
a probationary period.
Me?
Nope.
Why Theodore Harding, CEO of Harding & Co, chose me, I had no idea.
While I did try to keep my grades up in university, they weren't the best. My extracurriculars consisted of the book club and debate club rather than top-tier sororities. I had nothing exciting to show on my resume or letter of intent. I can't even talk about living on the edge with missed classes or being late due to a hangover...because I never did anything like that. Not since freshman year, anyway.
I pursed my lips as my eyes searched for the company parking lot I'd been to once before, then frowned. Should I really consider missing classes or being late as living on the edge? God, my life is sad.
I let my mind drift back to the interview and recalled when Mr. Harding was glancing over my resume. When he asked me where I saw myself in six months, I had responded that I would hopefully be working within the public relations department. I involuntarily cringed at the memory, but I couldn't get the look he shot me out of my mind. It was a look that said, "
Really?
" I couldn't tell if he thought it was laughable that I expected I would make it that far or if he was intrigued by my interest. While his response was as poised as ever, it was not much more reassuring than the look he shot me was.
"We'll see how you're able to handle difficult situations," he said finally before asking a few more typical questions and dismissing me from his office.
When I left my interview, I remember feeling numb.
What just happened?
I was left to wonder. Did that mean I had gotten the job or that he didn't think I'd be a good employee? I wasn't sure. What I did know was that I didn't feel like I'd nailed the interview, and I had assumed that you'd
need
to nail the interview in order to get a position at Harding & Co. Instead, Mr. Harding's secretary called the next day and informed me that I was to start on Monday at 8 AM sharp. She let me know where to pick up my employee ID, key pass, and parking pass and stated that she would fill me in on my projects once I arrived.
I shook my head to clear my thoughts while I pulled into Harding & Co's underground parking lot. The parking lot almost looked familiar since I had briefly been there the day before to pick up documents and badges I'd need for my first day. I flashed my shiny new employee ID at the parking security and he allowed me to enter.
I glanced down at my assigned parking number while reaching over for my thermos. I felt just a little lame going into work with a thermos full of home-brewed coffee instead of a Venti from Starbucks, but that was exactly why I had this job--to be able to afford luxuries like macchiatos. I took a sip of my nearly burnt coffee, brewed with my prized $5 coffee maker, and searched the enormous parking lot for spot ninety-three.
From the corner of my eye, I saw '90-100' painted on the far end of the parking lot and turned my old Honda in its direction with a sharp
screech
. The sound made me wince as it echoed softly through the enormous parking lot.
Yet another reason why I desperately need this job
, I thought as I pet my broken down car's steering wheel in a mock-loving fashion, as if it understood.
My spirits lifted a little bit more as I drove towards my assigned parking spot.
That's
my
parking spot,
I thought, elated that I had an excellent start of making something for myself. I could feel the cheerfulness I was trying to summon earlier naturally filling me as I took another sip of my coffee. My lifted mood made the coffee taste a little richer and more enjoyable.
If only mom and dad could see me now,
I thought, trying to not let the sadness get to me about the fact that we lived in different states. Soon, I would be able to move them out here. I'd work hard and move up in the company and we could all be together in the city.
And I'll even upgrade my car,
I thought optimistically.
The cheerfulness was short-lived as vrooming and blaring metal music interrupted my thoughts and the peace of the parking lot. I slammed down on the brakes, spilling my coffee all over my new white button-up blouse from H&M, and hardly even realized what had just happened because everything happened so fast it was a blur.
Correction: it was a loud, red blur.
"Shit," I swore under my breath. I yanked out as many napkins as I could from the glove compartment, attempting to soak up as much of the coffee as I could. Fortunately, my thermos was mostly a piece of crap so my coffee was already ice cold and didn't burn me in the slightest. Unfortunately, removing heat didn't remove color and my white top looked closer to failed cow prints.
Smelly, failed cow prints.
Remembering the cause of this disaster, I looked up to see what the emergency was and frowned. It felt like I was seeing things. I glanced at the number spray-painted on the ground, then at my parking pass, then back again.
Nope. Some asshole on a black Harley had cut me off
and
stolen my parking spot.
Double shit,
I thought, glancing around the parking lot in hopes of just filling another vacant spot. Literally every spot was taken.
The culprit was already off of his bike and walking away without a second care. My arm worked its magic, furiously winding down the window faster than it ever had before.
Well, that's my exercise for the week,
I thought, only half-kidding myself.
"Hey," I called out to him as soon as it was down more than a crack. He was completely oblivious. Either that or he gave zero shits, and I couldn't tell which it was because he continued to walk away. "
Hey!
" I yelled even louder, to the point of nearly being shrill.
That caught his attention. He turned on his heel, his brow hiked inquisitively in my direction. My mouth opened and closed like a stunned fish at the sheer beauty of this man. If he had just crawled out of an issue of
Vogue,
then I wouldn't be surprised. Well, a grungier, tattooed version of a
Vogue
-model. I wasn't sure if it was because I'd left my glasses in my purse or if it was because I wasn't able to fully consume my morning coffee (seeing as how half of it was now on my shirt), but my breath hitched when he locked his eyes on mine. For a moment, I forgot about my new shirt and my occupied parking spot. He was too far for me to make out his exact features, but even with the distance, I could tell that his facial bone structure was just gorgeous. His cheekbones were high, his jaw strong, and his blue eyes penetrated me even from the distance. I felt a blush creep to my cheeks and I grew angry with myself that a man I didn't even know was able to have that effect on me with just a look.
A look of recognition flashed in his eyes but was gone just as quickly. I frowned, studying his face.
He
does
look familiar,
I thought. I just couldn't put my finger on where I knew him from.
Maybe he really was on the cover of
Vogue
,
I pondered.
"Yes?" he asked, a smug smile tugging at the corner of his lips, almost as if he knew what I was thinking.
That pissed me off and I snapped back to my senses. This asshole had the nerve to cut me off
and
take my parking spot and he wasn't even going to acknowledge the fact that he had?
"You're parked in my spot." I mustered as much composure as I could, not wanting to show the fact that I was angry in case being nice helped get me my spot back. And in case he was a client.
His eyes flickered to his motorcycle then back at me again. "So?"
My mouth dropped, and I bit my cheeks to stop myself from saying anything I'd regret. My nostrils flared. "So... I need to park my car there." I flashed him my sweetest smile, trying my hardest to contain my irritation.
He flipped his thick, dark hair out of his eye before shrugging. "There's parking in the front. I'm sure you'll manage."