Something about that deep baritone made me melt like wax, soft and pliable to his whims. I decided to text him. I needed that electronic distance between us. That way I could keep emotion out of the equation. Angie: I got your pictures. I called them pictures instead of photos. It was my way of belittling them. My way of showing that I didn’t care about them. He responded almost instantly. Dom: Did you like them? I didn’t like them. I loved them. But I’d be damned if I was going to admit that to him. I decided to ignore the question altogether. Angie: You said you wanted to explain. Atta girl, I thought. Stay strong. Stay in control. He was the one who messed up. Not you. Dom: Yes. Angie: So explain. Yes, just the right level of bitchiness. I wanted him to feel my anger through the phone. Dom: Not over the phone. Angie: I don’t want to see you. Dom: I know. We should meet anyway. The nerve of this guy. Fine, see if you like this. Angie: So you don’t care what I want?
What do You think about Naked Canvas (An Alpha Billionaire Romance)?
