Unwillingly Yours (Warning: Love Moderately)

Nerdy. Boring. Unavailable.
18-year-old Jaike Hepburn is happiest when those words are used – and they always are – to describe her. Anything is better than the truth…until she meets a billionaire heir who makes it impossible to deny her true self.

Gorgeous. Charming. Friendly.
As part of both a business and political dynasty, 21-year-old Derek Christopoulos is used to living his life in the limelight, pretending to be the embodiment of a modern-day prince. Throughout his life, he’s kept his secret side leashed, waiting patiently for that one girl who’d find pleasure in belonging to him, body and soul.

Even as the feelings he arouses in Jaike pushes her into the arms of his rival, Derek knows it’s only a matter of time before the truth between them is laid bare.

She is his, and he is hers.

WARNING: LOVE MODERATELY 

Copyright Feb 26 2013
Cover Art by Lourdes Marcelo

Copyright 2013 by Streak Digital Publishing

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

• Chapter 1
  
• Chapter 2
  
• Chapter 3
  
• Chapter 4
  
• Chapter 5
  
• Chapter 6
  
• Chapter 7
  
• Chapter 8
  
• Chapter 9
  
• Chapter 10
  
• About the Authors
  
• Excerpt: Chased: Book 1 of How (Not) to be Seduced by Billionaires
  
• Excerpt: The Werewolf Prince and I
  
• Excerpt: Drawn: His Secret Toy
  
• Excerpt: Evren: Enter the Dragonette
  
• Excerpt: Death Loves Me Not
  

“That controlling son of a bitch stood you up again, didn’t he?” Her best friend Marcy growled from Jaike’s balcony, which overlooked the Roosevelt Bridge, its pillars outlined by an incandescent glow at night. Scenic views or even the balcony weren’t typical features for the dorm rooms of Blake Hall, but then her unit wasn’t the typical dorm room either.

          Instead she had a
suite,
one of the many perks offered to students who did extremely well on scholarships.

          Jaike Hepburn was one of those students, and her kind was the minority in Christopoulos University. All the others were rich and privileged like her friend, the kind who learned how to say “credit” and “card” before “Momma” and “Poppa”. Or at least that was what Marcy said.

          “I just don’t know what you see in that little shit.”

          Jaike smothered a laugh when she saw Marcy glaring at the scenery, knowing it was her boyfriend Marcy wanted to glare at instead.

Briefly, Jaike considered denying the obvious since the six-foot-tall “little shit” Marcy was talking about had indeed stood her up again. Not that it was a big deal. Angelo Ricardo Valencia III, her boyfriend for fifteen wonderful months, had been re-elected as Student Council President. Of course there’d be a lot of times he had to prioritize his obligations over dates with his girlfriend.

          Marcy was still grumbling.

          “Stop it,” she said laughingly. “I don’t have an issue with it so why should you?”

          “Did he at least text you to say he’s not coming?”

          Jaike took a deep breath, but in the end she couldn’t lie. “He’s just busy, okay?” The excuse that readily leapt to her lips only seemed to reinforce what an old edition of
Cosmo
had revealed to her.

Earlier at the library, Jaike had impulsively taken one of the quizzes featured in the magazine. The title had grabbed her attention.
Are You Playing the Martyr?
By the time she finished the quiz, Angelo still hadn’t shown up. She had also scored ten out of ten, the only time she was aghast at getting a perfect score.

But it was impossible for her to be a martyr
, Jaike thought. Martyrs weren’t happy. Martyrs didn’t smile. And she was
both.
So she wasn’t a martyr, never mind if Angelo was ditching her for the second time in less than 24 hours.

Cosmo
was so stupid. If – when – she passed the bar exam four years from now,
Cosmo
would have the honor of being the recipient of her first lawsuit. She’d sue them for fraud on behalf of young women like her whose minds they had messed up when they were perfectly happy.

And she was happy.

Or at least she had been until Angelo had suddenly changed. For weeks now, he had been aloof to the point of cruel indifference, and she just didn’t know what to make of it.

          “Where is he supposed to be anyway?”

          Jaike brightened at Marcy’s question, declaring proudly, “He’s at a photo shoot. The Photography Club asked him to model for their Valentines’ poster. They’re auctioning him off – the girl who wins gets to date him for one evening, all expense paid.”

          Marcy’s glossy pink lips formed an O of surprise. “And you agreed?”

          “It’s for a good cause!”

          “Hopeless!” Shaking her head, Marcy walked back into the living room and grabbed her shiny wrist bag from the leather sofa. “I wish I can stick around to give the little shit a piece of my mind---”

          “Marcy!”

          “---but I have to go. I promised Eric I’ll drop by his party.”

Jaike frowned, wondering who that Eric was. The only Eric she knew---

Marcy took one look at her face and said dryly, “It
is
Eric Saunders.”

“No way! Eric Saunders?” Eric Saunders was throwing a party? And she wasn’t invited? They were
both
nerds, and he wasn’t inviting her? Did that mean she was so geeky even fellow nerds didn’t want her showing up at their parties?

Marcy laughed. “I keep telling you, right? You don’t need to have a boring life just because you like to have straight A’s.”

“I do
not
have a boring life,” Jaike argued as she followed Marcy out of the door. As she locked her door, she added, “It’s not my fault I enjoy studying.” She rattled the knob twice for good measure.

Marcy was grinning when she turned around. “What?” Jaike asked defensively.

“You are such a control
freak
.”

“I just locked my door!”

“You
triple-
locked the door,” Marcy retorted. “And what’s the most precious thing you have inside it? A framed photo of the little shit?”

Jaike choked back a laugh. “You have got to stop calling him that, okay? It’s not cool. Angelo is my boyfriend.”

“He used to be but now he’s just a first-class ass,” Marcy said as she pressed the down button of the elevator. “An asshole who has your number. It makes him your asshole owner and you’re his bitch slave.” She huffed in indignation. “It’s like Christian and Ana in a totally sadistic unemotional---”

Jaike rolled her eyes. “Enough with the
50 Shades
analogy, Marcy.”

“No, I’m serious. I’ve read the entire
Top 100
for Amazon’s erotica bestsellers so I know what I’m talking about. You’re, like, the classic case for a sub---”

“I’ll kill myself rather than wear a collar around my neck, call someone
‘sir’
and I swear I’ll kill the guy who thinks he can tell share me with another
master.
Is that submissive enough for you?”

Marcy sniffed. “That just shows how much you don’t understand. Being a sub is all about needing someone to take care of you – so that you can totally let go. And you need that, Jaike. You’re always so…
rigid.
”

Jaike forced out a laugh, not wanting Marcy to know how her words reopened old wounds inside her. “Please don’t say that in front of Angelo. You’ll make it seem he’s got a robot for a girlfriend.”

The scowl reappeared on her friend’s face. “That little shit is the
worst
Dom---”

“Eww!” Jaike couldn’t help wincing, her mind tainted with the image of Angelo wearing some squeaky shiny leather thong and holding a whip. She raised her hand. “Just…just stop it, Marcy. It’s…” She shuddered. “I’m all for you going into BDSM if it’s your thing but it’s
not
mine.”

“Oh, it is,” Marcy answered so confidently it sent unease skittering over Jaike’s spine. “You just haven’t found someone you’re willing to trust yourself to.”

The elevator doors slid open then, saving Jaike from replying.

“Hey. You okay?” Worry underscored her friend’s tone. Behind Marcy were the mirrored walls of the elevator, its full-length reflection displaying the slim back that her friend’s beaded gold dress exposed, together with Marcy’s shapely legs, a direct contrast to how Jaike was covered virtually head to toe. An embarrassment really, considering Florida’s weather.

 “Yes.”
No. Not really,
Jaike thought with a heavy heart as she got out of the elevator. But she couldn’t tell Marcy something so disloyal.

Outside Blake Hall, Jaike and Marcy stopped by the nearest lamppost as Marcy lit a stick.

 “What are you going to do now that the little---” Marcy sighed, seeing Jaike’s warning look. “---I mean your AWOL boyfriend won’t be coming over?”

“I still have a couple of papers to research---” Jaike grimaced at her friend’s groan. “What? You know I hate TV, I hate surfing the Internet, and I hate listening to music.”

Marcy took a long drag from her cigarette. “Why am I friends with you? I just don’t understand why. I’ve tried and I’ve tried to be the bad influence everyone thinks I am but I’m not! You’re un-influenceable!”

“That’s not even a word.”

“And you’re still not letting me influence you,” Marcy muttered.

“Trust me,” Jaike murmured with a twist of her lips, the irony of her friend’s words something only she could enjoy. “You don’t need to influence me. I’ve got my bad side, too.”

Marcy threw her cigarette butt into the trash bin. “Yeah, yeah, so bad you can’t even make yourself skip classes if you’re not on your deathbed.” Arranging the strap of her bag around her wrist, she asked, “Why not come with me to the party?”

“No, thank you.” She didn’t even have to think about her answer. She hated it that much.

“You’ll enjoy yourself, I promise,” Marcy wheedled.