Damaged: A Dark Bad Boy Romance: Forbidden Desires, #1

By Evelyn Glass

Damaged is book 1 of the Forbidden Desires trilogy. Books 2 and 3, Broken and Torn are available everywhere now!

I’M NOT HERE TO SAVE HER. I’M HERE TO MAKE HER SCREAM.

She was looking for a way out—a way to keep her head above the waters.
She had no idea it meant letting people do whatever they wanted.
To let them ruin her. To let them break her.
Strip her of her dignity and leave her a shattered, damaged mess.

She thought I might be the one who could save her.
She thought I’d be different from the rest.

She has no idea what I have planned for her.
She has no idea about the truth, but I’ll teach her.

From the moment I put the collar around her neck.
The moment I pin her to the bed.

The moment I whisper in her ear everything that I’m going to do.

She’ll know that I’m not here to save her.
I’m here to make her scream.

And I can’t wait to get started.

• Language: English
• Publisher: eBook Publishing World
• Release date: Jan 15, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386820017

Book preview

DAMAGED: Forbidden Desires (Book 1)

By Evelyn Glass

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I’M NOT HERE TO SAVE HER. I’M HERE TO MAKE HER SCREAM.

SHE WAS LOOKING FOR a way out—a way to keep her head above the waters.

She had no idea it meant letting people do whatever they wanted.

To let them ruin her. To let them break her.

Strip her of her dignity and leave her a shattered, damaged mess.

She thought I might be the one who could save her.

She thought I’d be different from the rest.

She has no idea what I have planned for her.

She has no idea about the truth, but I’ll teach her.

From the moment I put the collar around her neck.

The moment I pin her to the bed.

The moment I whisper in her ear everything that I’m going to do.

She’ll know that I’m not here to save her.

I’m here to make her scream.

And I can’t wait to get started.

Chapter 1: Uncorked

Not again! Ugh! Why can’t you just leave me alone!?

I looked down at my phone as it lit up suddenly. The vibrations rattled my dorm room’s wooden desk and jolted me back to the present. My stomach turned as I scanned the screen. I recognized the number almost immediately despite it not being attached to the name in my phone’s miniscule address book.

It was the same number that called every single Friday for the last three years. And I wasn’t going to be the fool who picked up. They would just have to track me down and kick me out of school themselves. I was nowhere near prepared to pay off the $10,000 I had in tuition debt. And unlike what I promised the last time I was tricked into answering, I hadn’t found a bank that was dumb enough to let me get a loan out in my name.

So I was going to have to dance this dance once again. I was going to have to be coy, lay low, and avoid any official looking people on campus. If they couldn’t find me, they couldn’t demand I pay the money I owed. Or, worse, they couldn’t kick me out of school. I knew this for sure since they threatened to last year but hadn’t yet pulled the trigger.

It wasn’t like I was a deadbeat or a bad person. I wanted to pay. I actually wanted to be that college student with the pile of student loan debt I would have to scrimp and save for after college. But no one trusts the poor to pay back on time even when they have full-time jobs and work their asses off to be straight-A honor students. I followed the rules, I never skipped a class, I even volunteered on weekend mornings when I wasn’t recovering from a late night shift. Still, I was the one who couldn’t be trusted.

The phone call reminded me I should check my bank balance. It was like a Friday routine for me. University of Nevada Las Vegas’ Student Finances Office gives me a call. I pretend I didn’t hear it go off as I frantically log in to my bank account. As the page loads, I cross my fingers and pray to a higher power that some mysterious being has taken pity upon me and deposited a large sum of money into my account. But I was always wrong. I had exactly $3,280 in my name. UNLV wasn’t getting their money today. Or tomorrow. Or the next day either.

I waited for my phone to ding a notification of a missed call and voice mail before I peeled myself away from my desk. I spent all afternoon prepping my paper for History of Middle Eastern Trade Relations that I completely forgot to keep track of the time. With only twenty minutes ‘til my shift at the club, I had to rush. I opened the closet doors next to my own and started rummaging through Lana’s wardrobe. She kept the sluttiest clothes in the back. I started there.

I’d normally pick something more demure, something more fitting of a girl like me who lived her life in baggy t-shirts with funny slogans on them and loose fitting yoga pants that hid my bony waist. But Lana was, yet again, late on her laundry and had yet to restock on her overnight bag she brought along to every work shift just in case she decided to hang around with a customer.

I sighed as I pulled down what I hoped was a spandex black pencil skirt and a sparkling silver halter top. It was way too flashy for me, but at least my stomach would be covered and my scarecrow like legs would be concealed. Taking one quick glance in the mirror as I tied my waist-long straggly blonde hair into a flowing ponytail, I looked at the reflection staring back. This wasn’t the girl I wanted to be. This wasn’t the girl I'd envisioned for my future. But I had to do what I had to do to be that international businesswoman with an office in Tokyo, New York, and Paris. And working at the Strip Top Bar was what had to be done tonight.

I slipped on my favorite pair of beat up Chuck Taylors and grabbed my bag. My work shoes were already packed and ready to go. A pair of strappy black stilettos, I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing them anywhere else but work. And, even then, I struggled to walk like a normal human being in them. Luckily for me, working as a greeter meant I just had to stand there as I told tourist after tourist how ridiculously long the wait would be to get in.

No one trusted me to be a waitress like Lana. That required a skill I certainly didn’t have: flirting. On slower nights, I watched her as she coolly bent down low, dangerously close to a man as she took his drink order. She giggled at the right moments, touched arms at exactly the best times, and always had a devilish grin plastered to her Nevada sun-kissed skin that seemed to say, Tip me, I’m so worth it.

You’re late, D’Angelo! Daniel barked at me, as he always did, as I burst through the back door.

I leaned up against the kitchen’s prep counter as I struggled to slip on the strap of my shoe.

He’s in a pissy mood. Two girls called off sick, Cal, one of the security officers, walked past me, whispering in my direction. He winked as he warned, I wouldn’t piss him off if I were you.

I nodded back my appreciation as I awkwardly attempted running after Daniel to his office. I was just able to catch the hook of the door with my arm as he slammed it behind him, just barely sneaking in. I slithered past the other girls who waited around with bored, robotic looks on their freshly-painted faces until I found Lana. She wore a cut-off black tank and a gold mini-skirt with just enough fabric to cover her ass. Her severe bob brushed against her eyes as she stared at me amused.

What the hell happened to you? Did my closet explode on you or something? I told you to go for the clothes in the back. You look like you came from my grandmother’s funeral. She gestured to the skirt that just fell at my knees.

This was the best I could do. I didn’t have much time to go through your costumes. Plus, I thought this wasn’t bad. I mean, my shoulders are showing at least. Isn’t that enough?

Lana let out an exaggerated burst of air