A Million to Blow (Million to Blow #1) Read Online Blue Saffire

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Million to Blow Series by Blue Saffire
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Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 89592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
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I give her the look of death because this is one of the things I don’t want to talk about. I’m free now. I’m ready to move on.

Amanda notices the look but keeps digging. This is why she’s such an ass. She just doesn’t know when to shut the fuck up.

“Sidney, people have been spreading horrible rumors about you being broke and depressed.”

Bitch please, runs through my head as I purse my lips to convey the same sentiments. I lean on one hip and narrow my eyes. I start to count back from ten before I lose my last piece of good sense on this heifer, but she still continues.

“I couldn’t stand by while they dragged your name in the mud.”

Yeah, sure you didn’t, Amanda. Who the fuck does she think she’s fooling?

“How is the divorce going?”

My lips turn up into a smirk as she stops in her tracks. Her face looks like she’s seen a ghost. Gotcha. Always ready to be in someone else’s business, but not ready to have her own put out there.

Amanda has no idea. I still have eyes and ears in the district. This bit of information was sort of swept under the rug, something she’s been keeping a tight rein on. The silence from her lips is priceless.

“Sidney, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Patrick and I are better than ever. I’m meeting him for lunch in twenty minutes.”

I want to laugh so hard. She didn’t know that shit was coming. She has no clue, I’m not the one to be played with.

“Okay, Amanda, have a great day. I have some important people to talk to today. I have to run.”

“Okay, talk to you later, doll. You be good, Sidney.”

Underneath my breath, I let out a slight, ever so lovely, shut the fuck up, Amanda. It feels better than therapy, if you ask me.

I quickly go to pay for my jeans, then leave in a hurry. I still need shoes, but I need to know from Chloe if we’ll be on our feet all night. As soon as I finish my thought, my phone starts to ring. She’s always right on time.

“Hey, Sid. Where are you?” she says before I can even say hello.

“Chloeeeee,” I squeal into the phone. “I’m running errands in the city, looking for shoes for tonight. Hold on, Chlo.” I reach to fix the bag my jeans are in because my phone is slipping out of my hand. “Okay, now I can hear you loud and clear. I was just about to call you and ask what kind of shoes I should wear tonight?”

“Sid, you can wear any type of shoes you want, just make sure they’re superhot. Tonight, I’m getting you laid. You need some cheer-up, things-will-get-better dick.”

Sometimes the things that come out of Chloe’s mouth are just unreal. I stop in my tracks, my mouth falling open. A much-needed laugh slips free from my lips.

“No, Chloe, I don’t need any cheer-up dick.”

A man standing next to me overhears my words and starts to laugh. He damn near spits his coffee on a lady standing in front of us waiting for the red light to change. I roll my eyes and grin at my friend’s bad influence.

“Say what you want, Sid. Honey, you need some dick. I can tell.”

“Hey, if plans for tonight involve me getting drilled by some strange man, then I’m not going,” I huff into the phone.

“No, no, no, Sid. I’m just joking. You have to come out. I have a surprise for you, nothing bad. I promise,” she rushes out the plea.

“Okay, fine. I know I’m in good hands,” I relent, rolling my eyes again.

“Come on, Sid. You have me sounding like I raise virgins on a farm.”

You see? Comments like that are why I’m always laughing when Chloe is around. Who the hell thinks of stuff like that to say? When I need to escape and forget about my issues, I either talk to her, shop or write.

“I’m about to jump in a cab, you fool. I still have to get these shoes. I’ll call you when I get home.”

“Okay, talk to ya later, hun.”

Clayton

“Have you and your brothers considered the terms of my agreement?” My father asks.

I puff on the cigar he gave me to go with this smooth brandy. When we’re not at each other’s throats, we’ve enjoyed this common bond.

It doesn’t happen often because of this very conversation. He would love nothing more than for me and my brothers to marry one of the women he’s tried to palm off on us. Like the rest of us Hennessy men, my father has control issues.

We’ve made our own way and come from under his thumb, but he’s still found a way to wrangle us in. I actually have respect for the old bastard, he got this one by me. However, even if I didn’t have such deep-seated trust issues, I wouldn’t be interested in any of the women he has tried to saddle me with.


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