Bad Boy Blues - Saffron A. Kent
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Bad Boy Blues © 2019 by Saffron A. Kent
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Cover Art by Najla Qamber Designs
Cover Model: Clauss Castro
Editing by Leanne Rabesa
Proofreading by Virginia Tesi Carey
April 2019 Edition
Print : 9781092216685
Published in the United States of America
A War like Ours
(Dark enemies to lovers romance)
(Sexy student - teacher romance)
Gods & Monsters
(Un - conventional coming of age romance)
(Doctor - patient forbidden romance)
Cleopatra Paige hates one thing in this world – just one – and his name is Zachariah Prince.
In grade school, he pulled at her pigtails. In middle school, he spread false rumors about her. And in high school, he ruined her prom.
She hates that his smirks are unfairly sexy. And she definitely loathes that his dark eyes seem to follow her everywhere. Sometimes, even in her dreams.
It doesn’t matter that he’s rich and popular or that he lives in a freaking mansion full of butlers and maids. He’s rude and arrogant, and she wants to stay as far away from him as possible.
But unfortunately for Cleo, she lives in the same freaking mansion as Zach.
Only he’s the prince and she’s the lowly maid who serves him.
To the brave: who stand up for what’s right even when they’re afraid.
To my husband: the bravest man I know.
And well, to me: This book is proof that I’m brave and that I will always, no matter what, stand up for what’s right.
Prince: of English origin; Royal son.
Paige: of English origin; Young servant.
There’s a line in the town I live in.
It’s invisible, this line. It’s also paper-thin and razor-sharp.
But it’s there.
For about nineteen years, I’ve lived on one side of it. On the south side. It’s the side with hardworking and honest people, but we don’t have a lot of money. We have run-down buildings and shabby front yards and houses that creak and shake in a strong wind.
The north side is that of the rich and the powerful. It’s the side with big houses, mowed lawns and expensive cars.
It’s the side I absolutely hate for a variety of reasons. But I’m not getting into that right now.
I have a mission, a very important mission.
For the past six months, I’ve been living on the topmost corner of the north side. Not by choice, mind you. But by circumstance.
I’ve been calling an estate called The Pleiades my home.
It’s named after the constellation of seven stars up in the sky. Probably because the palace-like mansion that sits on this estate has seven towers.
And tonight, my mission is to break into it. The mansion, I mean.
Well, to be honest, if you know the code of the service entrance, is it really breaking and entering?
I don’t think so.
It’s more like punching in the code and entering. Something I do every day.
The only difference is that every day I do it in broad daylight. But right now, I’m doing it under cover of darkness with my stealth mode on.
I’m wearing my black shorts, paired with a black hoodie that covers my bright blue hair, and quiet leather boots.
I’m like the night: dark and silent. Oh and hot. Temperature-wise.
Another thing to know about our town is that it’s always hot. It’s always muggy and humid. Summer is our perpetual weather, even in winter. Weirdly, The Pleiades is the hottest spot of all.
I’m sweating with all the black stuff that I have on. But it could also be the nervousness. It’s not every night that I punch in the code and enter like this.
But desperate times, desperate measures.
Not to mention, I can’t shake off the feeling that I’m being watched.
Stopping at the service entrance with my hand poised at the keypad, I look around for probably the tenth time since I headed out for my mission. But there’s no one there. The night’s dark and the lush grounds are quiet and lonesome.
Maybe paranoia comes with doing kinda shady stuff.
Sighing and turning back around, I hit the keys and enter the code. When the automatic door clicks open, I enter the small lobby-like thingy that has the stairs going down to the basement. To the servant’s wing.