Service Was Mediocre: Reviewing My Billionaire Lover

cked up the three hundred dollars. He crushed the bills in his fist, his

lly felt when he discarded a nuisance.

awake. F

ers down a woman's spine. But for Avery Hall, it triggered a sharp, bli

over gravel. The scent of sandalwood and expensive, chemically crisp laundry deterg

ll of money. C

ling glass was too bright. She turned her head, ignoring the stiffness in her neck, and looke

m. She knew the minimalist grey furniture that looked uncomfortable to sit on.

white dress shirt that wasn't hers. Her legs were bare. T

she was supposed to be in this script. The desperate, clawing need for validation. The drugs slippe

settled in her chest, heavy as a stone. She had woken up in the "Death Flag" scene. This was t

ilence that followed was lou

maybe tw

or, and the shock helped ground her. She spotted her dress-a torn, s

avy, cream-colored personal stationery lay next to a signed, bl

way the last of the fear. She wasn't going to cry. She wasn't g

raped over a sleek, black valet stand that had steamed them perfectly dry and wrinkle-free

om door cl

dark hair on his chest, trailing down his abdomen. He was beautiful in the way a sw

eyes narrowed. He braced himself, his jaw tightening. He was waitin

. She met his eyes. Her face w

"Avery, don't make this d

r him. Her voice was ras

pulled out her wallet. It was thin. She took out everything

he nightstand, right on top

a genuine crack in his armor. He looked from the cash

Avery lied. She kept her

hammering against her ribs like a tr

It wasn't a question anymore. It was a wa

't turn her body, just her head. She looke

e, Mr. Hunter.

or and slammed it

for a second, squeezing her eyes shut, exhaling the breath sh

e pressed the button with a shaking finger. She had ju