Read Locked In (Locked in Love) (Volume One): An Alpha Billionaire Romance for Free Online Page A

hire me, but no one said I had to play by all of his rules. Maybe while I was there I could scope the scenes for real potential clients. North Carolina’s elite (and more!) would be at this event most likely. They tended to be paranoid assholes with deep pockets.
     
    Basically my ideal clients.
     
    Okay. My mind's made up. I stop fingering the card and pick up the phone to call.
     
    If you do this, you can’t sleep with him again. Absolutely, one hundred percent off-limits!
     
    Everyone knows business and pleasure don’t mix. Especially for a Private Investigator.
     
    I wasn’t worried. Locke had been a fucking fantastic lay. My ass still ached, a tender reminder of how he’d taken me to new and dark places. But that personality?
     
    Please. I could stay away from him, easy. Take his money and go. Like I said-- not worried.
     
    My fingers dial before I can talk myself out of it. The phone barely rings before someone picks up.
     
    “So you are interested in the job.” His low, husky voice pours into my ear and my thighs clamp together. Uh-oh.”
     
    “I’m interested in the real job. The one you’re not talking about.”
     
    He chuckles and a shiver runs down my spine. “It’s just basic security.”
     
    “So you keep saying. But if that were the truth, you’d have no business hiring me. I’m an investigator, not muscle. You’re playing a game. I’m just throwing in my chips, Locke. Let’s play. But you’ll need to pay me up front.” My heart is skipping now, the adrenaline flooding my system.
     
    Here’s the thing about men like Locke. They know the effect they have on people. On women. He knows he turns me on. I know he does, though I’m a bit concerned at how little it takes now. He likes power, too. The worst thing I can do is submit. Show him my belly like a dog.
     
    So I snark back. I’m picking a fight with a guy bigger than me. He’s got the looks, he’s got the resources, and he’s got enough money to cover his ass if the first two things don’t get him what he wants.
     
    I’ve got sarcasm, an eye for details, and the sheer, stubborn willpower to push his buttons in return. He’ll want to play, sure, but he’ll get bored. He’ll stop wanting to play, and I’ll be sitting pretty with a padded bank account.
     
    There’s a long pause on the other end. Too long. My palms start sweating and I’m worrying that I’ve read him wrong, come on too strong, and I’m about to lose the chance at twenty grand because of my big mouth--
     
    “You’re on. But I play for high stakes, Elise. You should be careful.”
     
    A thrill courses through me. He’s admitted it; something bigger is going on. It’s probably harmless, but still… Jameson Locke just threatened me.
     
    The rush of pushing him and succeeding is heady. Which means I ignore all good sense and say, “No offense, Locke, but you’ve got a lot more to lose than me. I’m damned good at my job. You’re the one who needs to be careful.”
     
    He laughs again, this time casually. If I’ve fazed him at all, the moment is gone. He’s back to being a royal dick again. “The auction is tomorrow night. I’ll need you at my home by noon.”
     
    I fumbled for a pen and a scrap piece of paper. “Fine. What’s your address?”
     
    He lets out a cartoonish sigh. “You’re a P.I. And, to quote you, ‘damned good’ at your job. Figure it out.”
     
    There’s a dial tone in my ear before I can fire a reply.
     
    Oh, I’m steaming. It’s juvenile, is what it is.
     
    Twenty thousand dollars, Elise .
     
    Right.
     
    My laptop is still in my bedroom. Strolling from my office into it, I plop on my twin bed and crack open my laptop. It’s the most expensive thing I own, second to my camera.
     
    There’s a lot of things you can skimp on in my line of work. Dress clothes? Who needs them. Fancy phones? Eh. Although I’ll admit my smart phone has been coming in handy, so this may change. But a computer and camera?