by Mira Bailee
Devon tries to grab my hands, but I flinch and move toward the door.
“Okay Miss High and Mighty. Educate me about my lifestyle since you seem to know so much.”
I stand there in silence. I want to run away, but where the hell will I go. Hundreds of miles away from home, and the only person I have to rely on has been lying to my face.
I can rely on myself.
Devon turns his back on me, instead walking to the oversized windows and staring out at the ocean. “That’s right. You don’t know. And maybe you shouldn’t know. It’s obvious you can’t handle it–that you’re so stuck up in your ways, you can’t let anyone else live their life how–”
“Devon, do you even hear yourself?!” I’m losing it. My entire body is shaking now. Tears stream down my face. I choke back a sob. “You’ve been self-medicating to detach yourself from everything. How is that any way to live? How am I supposed to ever know you when you keep yourself from the entire world? From me?”
He turns back in my direction. The backdrop of the serene Pacific is an uncomfortable contrast to the tension in Devon’s body and the look of utter frustration and contempt on his face. “I don’t like my life, Olivia. And neither would you. Trust me when I say–”
“I can’t.” I open the door, not having any clue what I’ll do if I leave–when I leave. My trembling hand grips the doorknob tightly as if I can transfer all my anger to it. I steady my voice. “I can’t trust you. That’s the problem. And I don’t think I can be with someone who can’t face his own life–his own problems.”
“You mean like you? Tell me Olivia. How long have you been running from your life? If our pasts are following us wherever we hide, then what’s your excuse? You aren’t exactly facing your problems, so don’t be a damn hypocrite.”
I let out an exasperated sigh. He can’t turn this around on me, making me the problem. Doesn’t he get that there’s something between us–something that can replace both our needs to escape? “I really want to be with you, but I can’t be with this version of you. I don’t know–”
“Don’t know what? Look at you, with one foot out the door. You’ve already made your decision. So run away. Again.”
He walks to the table, retrieving the blue box as if he’s choosing sides. I look from him to the bed behind him. Did last night really happen? I divert my eyes back to Devon, taking a long look at him as if I can find the answers that way. But my gaze travels back down his arm, to his hand…to his stash of drugs.
“You think I’m the only one running away? You do it your way.” I inhale a deep, shaky breath as I prepare for my next move. “And I’ll do it mine.”
I walk out of the room, closing the door behind me.
I can’t breathe. I gasp for a single, reliable breath as I hurry down the hall and back downstairs. I can’t get outside fast enough, but as soon as I get to the main doors and out on the sidewalk, I freeze and kneel down, sucking in the fresh air. What do I do now? Devon’s right. I have nowhere to go. But I can’t stay here. I can’t let him do whatever he wants no matter how it affects me. I vaguely recall seeing a bus station on our way here, so I turn in that direction and start walking down the road, adding distance between me and a man I was certain meant more to me than a sexy tryst between the sheets.
Once I feel I can breathe again, I pull out my phone and confirm the bus station several blocks away. I can do this. I’ll buy a one-way ticket back home and can be in L.A.–in my own bed–late tonight or early tomorrow. Then life can go back to normal.
But what’s normal now?
I can’t simply let Devon go. When I’m with him, I come to life. He can’t tell me he doesn’t feel the same. All the times he’s gone out of his way for me, I know there’s more to us. But it’s his turn to call the shots. I know what I want. It’s up to him to decide what he wants–who he wants.
My mind races as I quicken my pace, getting closer to my destination. Devon’s words flash through my thoughts.
“How long have you been running from your own life?”
This time, I’m not running away. I left, yes. But this time I’m running toward something. I’m running toward my future, taking control. I can make it on my own. And when I prove that to myself, when I become a better version of me, then maybe Devon will do the same.
I’m running toward the possibility of a better life. Fleeing toward the chance of a great love. As long as Devon comes to see it too.
I reach the bus station and buy my ticket from an old man with white hair and round glasses. I glance toward his left hand to see he’s married. I bet he had to take chances for his great love as well. And I bet it paid off in decades of happiness.
I smile at him as I pay and then clutch my ticket in my hand as I take a seat on a bench to wait. A thousand thoughts cross my mind, mostly wanting to change my mind and hurry back to Devon and that luxurious hotel suite. But I push all thoughts aside and focus. I have no excuse. I’m going to prove it to Devon. And to myself. I can face the nightmares of my past. I can take care of myself.
The bus arrives and I settle into a seat, leaning my head against the headrest and closing my eyes, breathing through my own nerves.
I gaze down at my phone. What was Devon doing right now? Did he leave yet? Or did he stay behind to…I don’t want to think about it. I’m confident it’s not the end for us, not yet. I just need him to realize he’s so much more than his family name–than his reputation.
A tap on my shoulder interrupts my thoughts. I turn to see a girl a year or two older than me holding her laptop in her lap and gawking. “Are you Olivia Margot?”
“Yes,” I answer. “Why?”
She turns her laptop to show me what she’d been looking at. ScandalLust. I almost roll my eyes. A photo of Devon and I made the front page with the headline: Has Devon Stone met his match? Maybe ScandalLust can answer that for the both of us.
“Are you really his girlfriend?”
No? Yes? I’m not sure where we stand. All I can do is smile at the girl.
She grins from ear to ear as she goes back to reading about me and Devon online. “You are so lucky,” she says, her eyes never leaving the screen.
I settle back into my seat, wanting her to forget I’m here.
You are so lucky.
God, I hope so.
* * *
The Lust List (Devon Stone)
THIRD DEGREE
In order to find a great love,
sometimes you have to find yourself first.
Available on Amazon!
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* * *
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Acknowledgments
I’m humbled by the support and encouragement I’ve received. The second book in Devon’s series wouldn’t have been possible without the enthusiasm and expertise of so many wonderful people.
Nova Raines, thank you for creating this world alongside me.
I’m forever grateful for Jamie Rich, my fearless beta; Nicole Bailey at Proof Before You Publish–the personification of a big white-out pen; and Marina and Jason of Polgarus Studio who turn my manuscripts into perfect ebooks.
My husband, Josh, you are my biggest fan, and I am yours.
And to my family and friends, and of course, my readers, you all make my job the greatest job of all.
Thank you.
About Mira Bailee
Mira Bailee, a beer-brewing librarian, has been writing leisurely, scholarly, and professionally for the past twenty years.
While she’s always maintained a high standard of chaos in her daily routine, The Lust List allows her to pass on some of her hectic lifestyle to her characters. Her storytelling balances humor and pleasure with sincerity and conflict, providing a wild ride of human emotions.
In the past she studied filmmaking and screenwriting and determined what goes on behind the
scenes is just as tantalizing as what’s seen in front of the camera. This revelation is the basis for her inspiration for The Lust List.
Table of Contents
The Lust List Series by Mira Bailee and Nova Raines
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Acknowledgments
About Mira Bailee
