Chapter 1 Tori Tennar

This book is dedicated to Pinkie Alaha,

For loving bad boys and taking no days off in creating memories and penning beautiful stories.

Disclaimer:

The people and events in this book exist only in the author's imagination. Any resemblance to real life bad boys, yacht parties, or secret billionaires is purely coincidental...probably. This story contains drama, danger, and swoony romance. Read at your own risk of falling in love with my imaginary friends.

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations used in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Acknowledgments

First and always, to God-for the strength, creativity, discipline, and courage to turn wild ideas into stories that live on paper.

To Clifford Obi, thank you for making this book a reality. This one is for you.

You are the reason behind every late night writing session and every crazy plot twist of BAD BOY AND ME

Chapter 1: Tori Tennar

"Tori Tennar."

Her name rang through the auditorium, spoken by the dean at the microphone.

Tori stood, adjusting the black cap on her head, and walked up the steps to the stage. The graduation gown rustled against her legs as she walked across the stage.

"Congratulations, summa cum laude," the dean said as he handed her the certificate and shook her hand.

"Thank you," Tori said, forcing a small smile.

She turned toward the crowd as the photographer snapped pictures. Families were cheering loudly, waving at their kids, holding up phones and flowers. Tori's eyes searched the rows of seats.

She looked left, right, center. Her chest dropped when she realized her father wasn't there.

She kept her smile in place for the camera, but it felt weak.

The announcer listed her other awards-Best Graduating Student in Fine Arts, special honors for her portfolio, and she accepted them one by one. The applause was loud, and her course mates cheered her in the crowd.

***

Outside on the campus lawn, students clustered into groups, throwing their caps into the air and taking photos. Parents carried flowers, balloons, and gifts. Tori stood with her classmates, holding her awards as the pictures went on and on.

"Smile, Tori!" her friend Lana said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

Tori managed another smile. "Yeah."

Lana's eyes softened. "Your dad didn't come?"

Tori shook her head. "No. He couldn't make it."

"He should've been here. You're the top of the whole school. He'd be proud."

"Yeah," Tori said again, though the word caught in her throat.

When the crowd began to thin, she slipped away, pulling her phone from her bag. No texts. No calls. She opened the rideshare app and booked a car to take her back to her apartment. She was still deciding if she'd go for the after party or not.

She was staring at her screen when it rang. The number was international. Her stomach flipped. She answered quickly. "Hello?"

"Tori."

It was her father's voice, but rough and tired, nothing like how he usually sounded.

"Dad? Where are you? Why didn't you come?"

"I'm sorry, baby. I couldn't make it." His words were broken by short breaths. "Congratulations my love, daddy is super proud of you."

"What's going on? Are you okay?"

There was a rustling sound, then the video camera switched on.

Tori gasped.

Her father was in a hospital bed. Bandages wrapped his chest. His face was pale, and tubes ran from his arms. The sheets beneath him were stained faintly red.

"Dad-what happened to you?"

"I was shot," he said plainly. "In Italy."

Her heart froze. "Shot? By who? Why? What are you even doing in Italy? I thought you were in New Jersey?"

"Tori, listen to me." His tone sharpened. "You can't come home. And you can't stay in Washington. Do you hear me?"

She shook her head, gripping the phone tighter. "What are you talking about?"

"Things are not safe. For me and you. You need to leave Washington immediately. Go somewhere else. Don't use my name. Keep a low profile. Use the money in your account and stay quiet."

Her eyes burned with tears. "I don't understand. Why? Who's after you and why?"

"I can't tell you right now." He coughed, wincing. Someone in the background spoke in Italian. He turned his head toward them, then looked back at her. "There isn't time. Promise me you'll do as I say. I want you to leave tonight."

"Dad, this doesn't make any sense!" She was crying openly now. "I graduated today! You were supposed to be here. You promised me."

"I know," he said softly. "And I wanted nothing more than to be there. You're everything I'm proud of. But I need you to leave Washington tonight. Do not call my numbers or message, do not speak to anyone about me. Do not tell anyone where you're doing, just leave. Do not use Tennar for now and stay away from social media."

"Please don't talk like that."

"I may not be able to call again. If I don't-"

"Stop it. Don't say that."

"I love you, Tori."

Her throat closed. "Dad, don't-"

The call cut off.

"Dad? Dad!" She redialed immediately. The call failed. She tried again. The line was dead.

She sat down hard on the stone steps outside the auditorium. Her gown pooled around her, but she didn't care. Students walked past laughing, hugging, still celebrating. She was hunched over her phone, shaking, pressing call after call.

There was no connection. Tears ran down her face.

***

The rideshare driver said "Congratulations" when she got in, but Tori barely nodded. She stared out the window, the city passing in a blur.

Her apartment felt cold when she entered. Usually, her canvases and art supplies scattered across the space made it feel alive.

She sat on the couch, clutching her phone. She replayed his voice in her mind. The bandages. The blood. The words Don't stay in Washington. Leave tonight.

Her stomach churned. She opened her banking app. The balance was higher than she remembered. He must have transferred more money recently.

Her phone buzzed again. She grabbed it instantly, praying it was him. It was a different number, an unknown number.

She answered. "Hello?"

It was silent before the call ended.

Her skin prickled. She tossed the phone onto the couch and stood up quickly, her breathing uneven.

She went to her bedroom, pulled a box from the closet, and began packing. Jeans, t-shirts, jackets, dresses. Her passport. Her sketchbooks. Whatever she could grab quickly.