Change of Possession (The New York Nighthawks #7) Read Online Fiona Davenport

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Insta-Love, Sports, Virgin Tags Authors: Series: The New York Nighthawks Series by Fiona Davenport
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Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
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She cocked her head to the side. “The guy in the truck was a football player?”

Ugh. There must’ve been new stories out there about me, but at least they got it right this time if they were talking about Rigby and me. “Yeah, the guy I’m dating plays for the New York Nighthawks.”

I didn’t understand why her nose wrinkled at my answer until Maria huffed, “How could you cheat on Gustavo with him?”

My brows drew together as I shook my head. “I already told you that those stories were bogus. Remember?”

Stephanie rolled her eyes. “So you’re saying that they got it all wrong…again?”

Again?

I shoved my hand into my purse to grab my cell, my stomach churning as I pulled up the web browser and did a quick search of my name. I gasped when I saw the result, tears filling my eyes. The picture of Rigby and I kissing before he put me into the car this morning made my heart swell because of how amazing we looked together. But the headline was pure crap.

“Yes, this is just as inaccurate as those other stories,” I insisted, shouldering past Ana to race to my dorm before the press realized I was a student at Tisch. The only thing on my mind was getting to a place where I could be by myself while I reacted to the newest round of articles because they were even worse than the first ones.

“Cleo!”

I was so upset, it took me a moment to realize the deep voice calling my name was Rigby’s. My head swiveled, and I found him jumping out of his truck, which was parked right in front of my dorm. Seeing him made the tears stream down my cheeks even more.

His hands wrapped around my biceps, and he peered down at my face. “Why are you crying, baby?”

My breath caught in my chest as I struggled to find the right words to tell him about the awful stories circulating about us. For a moment, I worried that he would wonder if they were true—even if only for a second. It would be understandable for him to have doubts since we hadn’t known each other long, but I wasn’t sure my heart could take the hit. “Have you…um…seen what…”

Luckily, he knew what I was talking about without me needing to say more. Wrapping his arms around my back, he pulled me close and murmured, “Everything is going to be fine, baby. I already talked to the press and took care of the bullshit they were spewing.”

He already knew…and he didn’t ask if they were true before he made a statement. He believed in me that much.

My head jerked back so I could stare up at him with wide eyes as a surge of relief coursed through my system. “What did you say?”

“That you were never Gustavo’s.” He cupped my cheeks with his large palms, brushing his thumb over my bottom lip. “And he said that he’s going to back us up in the press.”

My brows arched. “You talked to him?”

“Yeah, he called me,” he gritted out, a muscle jumping in his jaw.

Rigby didn’t have any reason to be jealous when it came to me, but his reaction anytime the subject of Gustavo came up gave me a little flutter of feminine satisfaction. And it wasn’t as though I didn’t have similar feelings when it came to him—although his name hadn’t been linked in the press with another woman in ages.

Stroking my palms up his chest, I murmured, “I don’t care about him, but I do want to know what you had to say about all of this. You never talk to the press.”

“No way in fuck was I going to let them say shit about you,” he growled. Lifting his head, he glanced around, and his brow furrowed. “C’mon, get in my truck. I don’t want to have this conversation out in the open where anyone could walk up and snap pics of us or, even worse, take a video.”

“Okay,” I readily agreed, not thrilled by the possibility of having more ugly stories written about me because one of my peers decided to sell me out.

I thought he meant that we were going to talk in his truck, but instead, he threaded his fingers through mine and drove toward his place. Once we were in the privacy of his apartment, he pulled me against his chest. “I’m so fucking sorry, Cleo. This is why I keep my mouth shut. The media twists shit and rarely gets the story right.”

“Hopefully, this will all blow over soon with Gustavo backing us up and whatever it was that you told the press…” I trailed off, waiting for him to satisfy my curiosity.

He laughed softly and shook his head. “I’m sure clips of it are online already.”

“I’d rather hear it straight from you.” I twined my arms around his neck. “Please.”


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