Book Boyfriend Read online

  It wasn’t until he became friends with Mason, the guy needing guidance and someone to be a friend and brother to him, that his walls started to come down and the man he once was started poking through. He had been trying to get his life straightened out ever since, but it was a difficult road to travel. Today was a perfect example. He wanted to buy a bar that needed fixing up and new management, but the owner was an older guy who had sworn the bar had been in his family for years. He needed to sell it because he had no one to pass it off to, but when he saw Benny and his many tattoos and hardened edge, he laughed at him.

  “No way,” the guy sneered at Benny. “My family didn’t build this up so that it could become some place to sell drugs.” The fact that Benny no longer sold drugs didn’t matter, he wasn’t going to change this guy’s mind without some kind of coercion, and he couldn’t do that anymore. He just couldn’t. It did, however, serve to remind Benny of the kind of life he’d been living, the kind of life he got into, and the price of it. Ethan. That was the price of his life. And it had never been worth it. Too bad he had been too late in realizing it. The price of Ethan’s life was never worth any of this, ever.

  Excerpt from A Brutal Betrayal

  “No, God, please. No!” she screamed, her voice hoarse from the screaming and begging, her face tear stained and bruised. No one could hear her in the dark alley, no one cared. Her pleas were drowned out by the sounds of the traffic nearby and the music vibrating through the many clubs in the area.

  She felt like she had been crying out for hours, but it had probably been no more than a few minutes. Her assailant had her hair in a tight grip, the roots on the verge of being torn out. The rough surface of the wall cut into her cheek as she was pressed against it. The biting pain was nothing compared to the terrifying violation being forced upon her.

  With his face buried in her neck, she could feel his hot breath coming out in small puffs with each thrust. He was mumbling, but she couldn’t hear his words over the thunderous roar of blood in her head or the sound of skin slapping on skin.

  “Please, stop, please,” she whimpered, her voice almost gone at this point. She closed her eyes, willing the pain to stop, willing the violation to end, willing her mind to leave her body behind.

  Three hours ago, she had told her parents she was spending the night with a friend, which wasn’t a total lie. She just hadn’t told them that she and her friend would be utilizing their new fake IDs to go to some clubs first. Her friend’s parents were out of town, so no one would notice or disturb them. They took advantage and drank at the house first before taking a cab to the main street where all the bars and clubs were located. Making their way through three clubs quickly, they picked up free drinks from men who assumed they were much older than they were. Twenty minutes before, things changed when she lost her friend in the crowd. The booming music and the throngs of people, bodies pressed against each other, writhing to the notes coming from the loud speakers, immersing themselves in the beauty of letting go. With the added relaxation from the drinks she’d had, she let go, maybe too much, only to realize that she was without her friend, groping and being groped without the safety of someone she knew. She needed air. Just a little, she told herself. She would step out for just a moment, maybe text or call her friend. Worst case, she could always grab a cab back to her friend’s place and wait it out.

  She had stood by the door of the last club, sucking in clean air. Well, cleaner than the musty air from inside. Her head was still throbbing from the pounding music. She didn’t hear him approach. She hadn’t realized what was going on until she was pressed against the wall, until the hands pushing her face into the wall felt wrong, violent.

  “Don’t make a sound,” he had said, his voice low and gravely, and the enormity of the situation hit her. She didn’t listen, she screamed, a loud, shrieking sound coming from her lips. He punched her, slamming her head against the corrosive wall. She didn’t care, that was better than what she knew would happen. She screamed again, and he pushed her into the wall, hard. She bucked into him, trying to push him away. Her arms flailed where he hadn’t pinned them down, trying to scratch him somehow, although she knew she couldn’t reach him at this angle. He got a hold of her arms and pinned them in front of her and pushed her against the wall. She felt her lip starting to swell, and her body felt like someone had snapped it in two. But still, that kind of pain would heal. The pain she knew he intended on inflicting would not, so she didn’t care. She didn’t stop screaming. Not when he lifted her dress, not when he tore her underwear like it was a piece of tissue paper, not when his rough, calloused hands pinned her hips to the wall, not when he forced himself inside her, not when he pounded away the remnants of her innocence, not when he continued to violate every part of her being.

  “Please stop. No. Please, don’t do this.” Her lips moved, even as her voice disappeared. But it didn’t matter. He was doing it. He had done it. She felt the pain, the ache in every crevice and corner of her body, in every niche of her mind. And he had been rough. He had beaten her to get this. She could feel the telltale signs of bruising all along her body. But she could have taken that. He continued to mumble, the words still incoherent to her, but she finally felt herself starting to check out from this time and space. Her mind was finally starting to protect her, pulling her out of the moment. The numbness began to take over, but just before she lost consciousness of the here and now, she felt his body tense, and he went rigid with his release. She vaguely felt him push her down to the floor when he was done with her. She barely remembered hearing the zipper on what she assumed were his jeans. And she only just understood that the sounds of footsteps were his as he ran away from her, leaving her there bloody and broken, used and discarded, sullied and ashamed.

  Coming Soon: Three Loving Words

  I hate you. I heard those words so many times from his mouth that they lost their meaning. His “three loving words” is how I mockingly referred to them. It didn’t bother me, though, because I hated him, too.

  He was gorgeous, with dark tousled hair, full lips, a strong jaw, and a body deserving of a magazine cover. He was rich and cared for his mother deeply. On paper, he was the perfect husband. The problem? He was my husband.

  I dreamed of a fairytale love story for as long as I could remember. I dreamed of a boy to fall head over heels for me and treat me like the sun rose and set at my feet, especially after living in the shadow of my perfect sister and never feeling good enough for my family. When I decided to earn my parents’ love in a dramatic fashion, I’ll admit that I never imagined marrying him would end up part of the bargain.

  The kicker? Enzo Faust didn’t want to marry me, either. And yet, here we are, a man that I both fear and loathe is my “I do…for better or worse.” I just didn’t anticipate that it’d be more ‘worse’ than ‘better.’

  I’m Paige Stiles, and here’s my story.

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  Thank you so much reading Book Boyfriend! Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. For more information on upcoming books, feel free to follow me:

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