FAKE FLAME BY ADELE BUCK – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Adele Buck
- Language: English
- Genre: Contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Eva was in her office when the music started. At first, she didn’t pay
attention, immersed in the paper she was grading. Then, the back of her
neck prickling with dread, she recognized the tune. “Wonderful Tonight.”
Darren used to say, “They’re playing our song,” when he heard it
anywhere. It wasn’t even a tune she liked. Just the one the band had been
playing when he’d first asked her to dance back at Juliet and Mike’s
wedding three years ago. But Darren had decided that it meant something,
that song. That it was some sort of sign from fate or God or the universe
that they belonged together.
Well, if he still thought that, he could just go fuck himself.
Grabbing her office keys and ID off her desk, she stomped out into the
hallway, pretty sure actual steam was coming out of her ears. Slamming her
hand into the crash bar of the door of Wooton Hall, she emerged onto the
quad and stopped dead.
There was Darren, playing Eric Clapton’s asshole ballad on an actual
baby grand piano on the grass. That was bad enough. Worse, there was a
giant hand-lettered sign taped from the open lid of the instrument, wafting
gently in the spring breeze. It read, I’M SORRY, EVA. PLEASE TAKE ME
BACK. I’M PLAYING OUR SONG FOR YOU.
Eva realized her mouth was open and she shut it with a sharp click of her
teeth.
“Oh, my God, that is so romantic,” someone in a small group of
undergraduates a few yards away enthused.
Romantic? No. This was emotional blackmail. This was coercion. This
was Darren being a manipulative little assweasel. In the past two months,
she’d donated the flowers he sent her to the local hospital. She’d blocked
his texts and sent his email to the spam filter. She’d taken a Sharpie to the
handwritten letters and written RETURN TO SENDER on every envelope
before shoving them back into the mailbox, unopened and unread. And that
was just the beginning of his onslaught and her endless iterations of no.
He looked to the side, still playing, and caught her eye. And that fucker
winked at her. He winked.
Eva took a deep, cleansing breath, and then another one for good
measure. Then, she turned on her heel and stepped carefully back into the
university building. Her first stop was Celia Petrov’s office. “Hey, Cee, can
I borrow a lighter?”
Celia, a professor of Russian literature and someone who’d never been
able to kick her pack-a-day habit, looked up at Eva and grinned. “Joining
the ranks of the wicked?” she asked, rummaging in her pen drawer and then
tossing a pale pink Bic over to Eva’s waiting hands.
“Something like that,” Eva muttered as she caught it. She could still hear
that damn tune. Darren had run through it once and was starting again.
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