Page 10 of Tempting the President (Oro Nero MC)

I PACE PATRIZIO’S PENTHOUSE , my sneakers squeaking on the marble floor like I’m auditioning for a role as World’s Most Anxious Professor.

My heart’s still doing cartwheels from that elevator kiss. His lips on mine, his hands everywhere, my brain screaming, Jayne, you’re doomed!

He said it’s “not safe” to leave, which is the kind of thing Eina L. Haze’s heroes growl before whisking heroines off to secret lairs. Except this is real life, and I’m no Charlize Theron-esque badass who can handle whatever Zio’s hiding.

What is he hiding, anyway?

A secret dungeon?

A stash of questionable business deals?

A girlfriend he forgot to mention?

My stomach twists at that last one, and I shove it down. No way. He kissed me like I was the only woman in the world.

But...am I, really?

I stop pacing, catching my reflection in the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Central Park. My blouse is still slightly askew from the elevator, my bun unraveling like my composure.

“Get it together, Jayne,” I mutter. “You’re a professor, not a heroine about to stumble into a plot twist.”

Except I totally am.

Because there, behind a bookshelf of leather-bound tomes (who even owns those?), I spot a faint outline—a panel, maybe?

My inner romance nerd perks up. Secret doors are, like, the hallmark of an Eina L.

Haze novel. In Dominated by the Biker, Leah found a hidden armory behind a bookcase, which led to her hero’s big reveal.

I know that’s not a good enough reason to snoop (okay, there’s really no good reason to snoop at all), but. ..

What else is there to do?

I glance at the hallway where Patrizio and his too-handsome friends disappeared for their “business meeting.”

The penthouse is silent, save for the hum of the espresso machine I’m too intimidated to touch.

I’m sure Patrizio wouldn’t mind.

Right?

“Aaargh, Jayne, you’re an idiot,” I whisper, but my fingers are already brushing the bookshelf, searching for a latch.

My heart hammers as I find a small slot, barely visible, just big enough for.

.. a keycard? I fumble in my bag, pulling out the keycard I spotted earlier on Patrizio’s desk when he was too busy kissing me senseless to notice.

It’s sleek, black, with a gold S embossed on it—Steele, obviously.

I slide it into the slot, and the bookshelf clicks, sliding open to reveal a gleaming chrome elevator.

Wow.

I mean, yikes!

This...is the part where I should remember that I’m a professor who knows better than to step into a secret elevator without telling anyone.

And yet...

As soon as the elevator doors slide open, that’s exactly what I end up doing, and I’m stepping inside before my brain catches up.

The panel has one button, unmarked, and I press it, my pulse racing like I’m about to uncover Patrizio’s dark secret. The elevator descends smoothly. Too smoothly, actually, like it’s designed to hide whatever’s below, and my mind starts spinning with possibilities.

Am I about to find...an underground casino?

Secret fight club?

Oh, please, anything but a red room of pain because I’m not that kind of heroine.

I mean I wish I could be, but since I’m still the type to cry when I need to go to the dentist...

Thanks, but no thanks.

The doors open, and I’m hit with a wall of sensory overload: leather, whiskey, and the low growl of conversation. I’m in a dimly lit club, all concrete walls and industrial steel, a stark contrast to the penthouse’s luxury.

Men and women in leather jackets lounge on mismatched furniture, their sleeves rolled up to show tattoos of skulls and chains. The air smells of engine oil and danger, and I freeze, clutching my bag like a shield.

Is it just me...or does this place seem exactly like a supposedly fictional club featured in Eina L. Haze’s most popular series?

A guy with a buzz cut and a scar across his cheek spots me, his eyes narrowing. “Who’s this?” he calls, and my stomach drops as all heads turn...toward me.

Gulp.

How in the world did I end up here again?

No, wait.

Maybe the better question is...how in the world did a place like this end up occupying prime real estate space in Midnight Tower?

Doesn’t that mean Patrizio has to know about this? And that he’s a part of this world—

Don’t overthink, Jayne!

It’s very much possible that a club like this exists in Midnight Tower because of his friends, not him.

Didn’t Patrizio mention about Giancarlo being in charge of their company’s properties?

He could have been the one to lease this.

..and all without Patrizio knowing. Or maybe it’s Stefano who’s behind this, with how he likes to invest in all sorts of things. And who knows, maybe even Jamie—

Ouch!

A woman shoves me back for no reason, and I glance up.

And up. And up. Because she’s unbelievably tall.

Like...I have no idea how tall Charlize Theron is, but she’s that kind of tall, and so dramatically beautiful with her deep-set eyes, vividly red lips, and yes, of course she also has legs that go for days.

I take sidestepping her, but she mimics my move to block my way.

Huh.

She crosses her arms over her chest, and when the other women around her do the same thing, that’s when I realize fear might have gotten the better of me, since it’s only at this moment I realize I’m actually being... bullied?

“You don’t look like you belong here.”

She...totally has a point, and so I just nod. “I was about to leave—”

“Not so fast.”

She looks at me from head to toe, and every member of her clique—let me see, there’s one, two...seven, eight!— all eight members of her clique are actually following her lead like they’re some kind of flash mob...or playing a game of Simon Says?

“How did you get in here?”

I point to the elevator...which turns out to be a big mistake since all eight of her sidekicks gasp while Head Villainess here looks at me like she’s suddenly developed an intense dislike toward professors with more curiosity than sense.

“Which unit?”

“I don’t think I’m allowed to say—”

She takes a threatening step forward, and me being me—

“The penthouse,” I say right away.

I choose peace over violence, and that’s all there is to it, and my decision absolutely doesn’t mean I’m a wimp or...why are they all looking at me like they know I have an electric bike charging in my garage?

She’s lying, Harlie!

Lemme at her!

Just say the word, and I’ll slap this bitch all the way to hell!

Uh...right.

I think I’ve heard enough.

But just as I’m about to take a step back, Villainous Charlize Lookalike raises a hand, and a hushed silence falls over the entire club.

“If you really came here from the penthouse like you say—”

“I’m not lying.”

“Then you must be a gift to Zio from the other boys,” she says dismissively. “One last prank...before Zio gives up his bachelor days...to marry me.”

Don’t cry, Jayne.

I lift my chin while telling myself that I need to give as good as I’ve got.

Remember who you are!

And so I take a deep breath and say...

“I’m not a gift.”

Great, just great.

I wanted to sound as cool as all of my favorite MC romance heroines, but instead I ended up sounding more like some one-dimensional character who’s just so boring—

“I completely agree,” the other woman drawls.

She did?

“I’d say you’re more like trash to me—” She shrugs, and so do her fanatics. “But we can’t all have good taste, can we?”

I...want to say something. But what? I’ve never been lost for words in all the classes I teach, but there’s just nothing— nothing! —that comes to mind. Maybe I’m really not heroine material like I thought I was?

“Zio is mine for the rest of our lives, but I’m feeling pretty generous, so...just this one night, I’ll loan him to you. So just go back to the penthouse, pretend this never happened, and do make the most out of this evening...since it will never happen again.”

Harlie’s too nice.

This bitch isn’t even fit to look at our queen in the eye.

Just looking at her pisses me off.

Their queen bee in leather gestures to her court. “Let’s go, girls.”

And off they really went, and all I can do is stare because...this is one of those things that my fancy PhD didn’t prepare me for.

My heart starts to crack as I spin toward the elevator. I can feel them staring at me. Hear them laughing at me as the doors slide open, and I stumble inside and jab the lobby button.

Was Patrizio really engaged to another woman?

If he wasn’t...then who was she, and why would she lie about such a thing?

But if he was...

Then there’s nothing to think about.

My thoughts are still a mess as I walk out of Midnight Tower, and it’s a struggle to even lift my hand up to hail a cab.

The cab driver looks at me through his rearview mirror as I slide into the backseat. “You okay?”

I manage a smile as I give him my address.

Manage to wait until he turns his gaze back to the road ahead, and as the city blurs past...

I finally start to cry.

I don’t understand.

I hear a curious rumble of engines behind us, almost like we’re being tailed by a group of bikers, but I just can’t make myself care.

Why did he...How could he? Why?

The End...for now.

Love a dangerous man with secrets? You’re not alone.

Patrizio and Jayne’s story continues in Book 2...where the world of Oro Nero grows more dangerous, desirable, and devastating.

But while you wait...

Meet Kellion Argyros.

He’s a billionaire. A biker. A playboy with a smile that hides a thousand scars.

And for one quiet girl, he’s everything she should run from...and everything she can’t resist.

The Playboy (Kellion) is yours, completely free, right now.

Just flip the page.