Frat Boy Billionaire (Dirty Billionaires, #1) by Blacklace Ana C

Author:Blacklace, Ana C.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: billionaire romance, dark romance, stalker romance
Publisher: Ana Calin
Published: 2023-04-18T00:00:00+00:00

Mia

The rain patters heavily against my windshield. I’m watching the frat house from my car, my chest heaving. I’m scared out of my mind, and not only by the prospect of facing Declan, his disdainful laughter and that of his guys, or the humiliation he is going to put me through.

It’s that house in itself.

It resembles a shipwreck on land, the ghost of the loud and boisterous place where that damn party took place. All lights are out, and the entire street seems abandoned. The street lamp next to it, the only one still working in the whole street, is flickering. The power is out in the entire neighborhood. They said on the radio that the storm knocked over some power lines, but this looks like it took down whole chunks of the city.

I look down at my phone sitting on the passenger seat next to me. Timothy had been sending me gross texts for hours until he suddenly stopped about an hour ago. My eyes move slowly back to the frat house. He must be in there, waiting for me. Knowing I’m on my way. They are all ready to do nasty things to me, but I’ll put them in their own nasty place or die trying. I’m gonna save Declan for last, too. I will see that bastard at the gates of hell, if it’s the last thing I do.

I decide to leave the car here, too, a safe distance from the house. With the power out, it’s far enough for them not to spot it, so I don’t run the risk of them driving it away so that I can’t get away from them. Jittery and anxious as I’ve been all day, I forgot all about grabbing an umbrella on my way out, so the only option is walking through the rain.

Holding my leather jacket over my head like a hoodie, I step out of the car. The jacket is hardly any help with the downpour, and my oversized sweater, black skinny jeans and sneakers are soaking wet by the time I find refuge on the porch. Stomping my feet against the last wooden stair, I lower my jacket and shrug into it normally, my eyes sweeping over the ground floor windows.

It’s quiet, too quiet. And too dark. The porch creaks under my footsteps like an old ghost house from a freaking horror movie. Reaching out for the doorknob, I realize the door is ajar. All it needs is a slight little push, and it slowly falls open to reveal the darkness of the house. The same space where people were dancing and drinking in tight, sweaty clusters resembles the living area of an abandoned manor.

Lightning strikes outside, sending a flash through the windows. The furniture casts shadows along the floor, the room heavy, with an ominous feel. I walk slowly, water dripping onto the floor from my soaked jacket. The closer I get to the stairs that lead up to the gallery, the more laden the air seems with a strange scent.

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