12 Inches:A Secret Baby Dark Romance(6)

By: Alexis Angel

But I never expected that I was going to spend forever with him. God knows I didn't love him.

So, whatever, you know?

But Grady doesn't know that. I mean, he could be a little bit more dignified about it. Because all he's doing now is hopping from one foot to the next.

I look at him with curiosity.

"Abby!" he yells, and I see Alyssa turn around, her mouth turned into a perfect O.

Yes, I'm still a big name author in the publishing world. I may not have had many successes lately, but people still know who I am.

"So this is why you're not answering your phone, Grady?" I ask, putting one hand to my hip. "Because you're too busy with a new client?"

"It's not like that, babe," Grady tells me, running over to me.

I back off slightly. His cock is swinging. But it's not even like a big swinging dick. It's a little tiny sausage link that's waving its tail like a little Dachshund.

I make a face and Grady steps back.

"I thought you were writing, too!" he yells at me. "What're you doing here?"

I look at him with a mix of confusion and absolutely fucking puzzlement.

"So because you thought I was off writing, you thought it's okay to fuck another author?" I ask him, my voice rising. "And her?"

I'm pointing at Alyssa. Don't get me wrong. I have nothing against models and authors. But seriously, Alyssa Moore?

She never writes anything. She just puts her face on the cover in a skimpy bra and gets author credits.

I don't know if I'm more upset that he was fucking another woman or he was fucking her.

"Alyssa and I have been talking for a while, babe," Grady says, trying to explain it to me. "I'm sorry."

"No, Grady," I tell him coldly. "I'm the one that's sorry."

And then, the fateful words. "Consider this visit my termination visit for any arrangements with Bad Boy Publishing."

I turn around. Really, that's all I really need to do here. Very simple. Very civilized way of saying fuck off.

"Abby, you can't fucking leave," Grady says, his voice reaching ever higher octaves.

I turn around to look at him.

Don't get me mad, Grady. Please don't go there.

"We had a deal," he tells me. I look at him to see if he's really being serious.

He's not joking.

"You can't back out now," he says to me.

"Really? I can't back out of an arrangement that specifically says I can back out at any time?" I ask him, cocking my eyebrows.

"If you back out now, then it'll look very bad for my career, babe," he tells me, completely serious.

I swear to God, Grady has made thinking only about himself an art form.

I reach down and grab his pants and his boxers and bunch them up. I take Alyssa's short skirt. I bunch all of it together into a tight little ball.

"I can't leave?" I ask him, walking toward him.

"Not if you want to keep your end of the bargain," he says to me, sagely.

I smile and go toward his window that's cracked open slightly. The cold New York City air is coming in. Helps the building save on air conditioning.

Then without a second glance I stick my hand out the window.

Alyssa gasps because this is the hand that has her skirt, her thong, Grady's pants, and his boxers.

And I let them go.

They flutter in the wind, dropping down toward the ground.

"That's what I think of my fucking end of the bargain," I tell him. "And it looks like you have a bigger problem at work than worrying about losing me as a client."

And that's it.

My exit. I head to the door.

"You're going to regret this, Abby," Grady says to me.

"Fuck off and die, asshole," I say without turning back. "You're the one that'll regret it if you come after me."

Don't look at me like that babe.

I may be an angel most days.

But fuck with me, and I'll go from sweet and cute into the Angel of Death.



"Un-fucking-believable," I say, releasing my grip from the pull-up bar.

A bead of sweat rolls down my temple and I wipe it off. "Did you call the right people?" I ask.

My PA, CJ, looks at me like I’ve grown a second head.

"What kind of a question is that? Of course I did, and I'm not going to lie," CJ replies. "The situation is bad. I made over a hundred calls yesterday. That's a hundred and counting Aidan! Do you know how long that takes? And not a single person wanted to work with you. The numbers aren't good. I'm beginning to get worried."