Read Online Monitored (The White Coat Series Book 3) by D.D. Parker - Free Book Online
Authors: D.D. Parker
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was a good idea, but it was still an important facet of my personality to harness. Rachel taught me it was ok to talk about sex and guys and to be ok with expressing myself.
“Whatever, you would have said the same.” There was a glitter in her eye which was quickly extinguished by a loud knocking on the door. Rachel lurched back and looked towards the door and then down at her phone, noticing the time on the display.
“What the?” I got up and slowly walked over, wondering who in the world would be at my house this late in the day without me inviting them in the first place.
“Who is it?” Rachel said loudly, not waiting for me to get to the door. I held an arm out and signaled her to stay quiet, putting a finger to my lips and looking back to her. She just shrugged innocently. I looked back at the door, half-expecting whoever it was to knock again since I was taking so long to get to the door.
“We’re coming,” Rachel called again from behind me. I cringed a little. Rachel didn’t always think things through all the way, she didn’t realize I would prefer to pretend as if no one was home if it just so happened there was a masked man outside my apartment.
I reached the door and peered through the peephole.
“That’s weird.”
“What is it?” Rachel got up off the couch and came to stand next to me, her short blonde pixie cut catching the hanging faux chandelier I had by my entrance.
“There’s no one there.” I stepped back from the door. I didn’t want to open it. Even though I saw no one outside, I didn’t know who could be around the corner. Rachel, on the other hand, thought it would be a good idea to throw the door open and stick her head out into the hallway that lead to steps down towards the street.
“Yeah, it must have been a prankster.” She closed the door and locked it. Something in how fast she clicked the lock made me think she wasn’t very convinced in her prankster theory.
I shook my head and gave a passive shrug. “Damn kids.”
“Alright, well let’s figure out what you’re going to wear tonight then.” She slapped her thighs and made her way to my bedroom.
I glanced at the door and followed after her.
It was probably just a bored kid.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I SAID A THANKS TO the taxi driver and slid out of the back seat, my jet black heels clicking on the cracked pavement underneath. I tugged at the hem of my form fitting black dress, bringing the length down to the middle of my thighs. The line for the club wrapped around the block, the clubgoers ran the gamut from lost tourists to C-list starlets. The tourists were mainly turned away at the door for either not being on the list or not wearing the dress code while the C-list celebrities were mainly let in after dropping their daddys’ names.
I watched as one of the C-listers flipped her curls over her shoulder, a move that was copied straight out of a reality television show. The bouncer was apparently impressed by her plunging neckline and let her and her gaggle of fashionistas walk in. Thankfully I didn’t have to wait long for Alexander to come out after I texted him, his smile beaming brighter than ever. I could tell that tonight’s excitement was overtaking him, he was in his element. And he sure looked the part too.
He had on a rugged, but expensive looking, leather jacket that hugged his muscular figure like a Brazilian James Dean, the white t-shirt and dark jeans only bolstering the look. He was beyond attractive. At this point, it was almost unfair.
He patted the bouncer on the shoulder and told him something, turning away from the people anxious to get in. The next thing I knew I was being grabbed by Alexander and led past the whispering crowd waiting in line, wondering who I was and why I was being held around my waist by the headlining performer.
“This is crazy,” I said to him as he pushed through two punk models, their edgy haircuts framing their bone structure in just the right
“Whatever, you would have said the same.” There was a glitter in her eye which was quickly extinguished by a loud knocking on the door. Rachel lurched back and looked towards the door and then down at her phone, noticing the time on the display.
“What the?” I got up and slowly walked over, wondering who in the world would be at my house this late in the day without me inviting them in the first place.
“Who is it?” Rachel said loudly, not waiting for me to get to the door. I held an arm out and signaled her to stay quiet, putting a finger to my lips and looking back to her. She just shrugged innocently. I looked back at the door, half-expecting whoever it was to knock again since I was taking so long to get to the door.
“We’re coming,” Rachel called again from behind me. I cringed a little. Rachel didn’t always think things through all the way, she didn’t realize I would prefer to pretend as if no one was home if it just so happened there was a masked man outside my apartment.
I reached the door and peered through the peephole.
“That’s weird.”
“What is it?” Rachel got up off the couch and came to stand next to me, her short blonde pixie cut catching the hanging faux chandelier I had by my entrance.
“There’s no one there.” I stepped back from the door. I didn’t want to open it. Even though I saw no one outside, I didn’t know who could be around the corner. Rachel, on the other hand, thought it would be a good idea to throw the door open and stick her head out into the hallway that lead to steps down towards the street.
“Yeah, it must have been a prankster.” She closed the door and locked it. Something in how fast she clicked the lock made me think she wasn’t very convinced in her prankster theory.
I shook my head and gave a passive shrug. “Damn kids.”
“Alright, well let’s figure out what you’re going to wear tonight then.” She slapped her thighs and made her way to my bedroom.
I glanced at the door and followed after her.
It was probably just a bored kid.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I SAID A THANKS TO the taxi driver and slid out of the back seat, my jet black heels clicking on the cracked pavement underneath. I tugged at the hem of my form fitting black dress, bringing the length down to the middle of my thighs. The line for the club wrapped around the block, the clubgoers ran the gamut from lost tourists to C-list starlets. The tourists were mainly turned away at the door for either not being on the list or not wearing the dress code while the C-list celebrities were mainly let in after dropping their daddys’ names.
I watched as one of the C-listers flipped her curls over her shoulder, a move that was copied straight out of a reality television show. The bouncer was apparently impressed by her plunging neckline and let her and her gaggle of fashionistas walk in. Thankfully I didn’t have to wait long for Alexander to come out after I texted him, his smile beaming brighter than ever. I could tell that tonight’s excitement was overtaking him, he was in his element. And he sure looked the part too.
He had on a rugged, but expensive looking, leather jacket that hugged his muscular figure like a Brazilian James Dean, the white t-shirt and dark jeans only bolstering the look. He was beyond attractive. At this point, it was almost unfair.
He patted the bouncer on the shoulder and told him something, turning away from the people anxious to get in. The next thing I knew I was being grabbed by Alexander and led past the whispering crowd waiting in line, wondering who I was and why I was being held around my waist by the headlining performer.
“This is crazy,” I said to him as he pushed through two punk models, their edgy haircuts framing their bone structure in just the right
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