Filthy Deal (Scandalous Billionaires #2) Read Online Lisa Renee Jones

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Dark, Insta-Love, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Scandalous Billionaires Series by Lisa Renee Jones
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Total pages in book: 211
Estimated words: 201554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1008(@200wpm)___ 806(@250wpm)___ 672(@300wpm)
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I catch her shoulders, and holy fuck, touching this woman sets me on fire, muddying the water in ways that I allowed to pull me into this hell. “Hi,” she says softly.

I narrow my eyes on her, thinking about her six years with this family, thinking about what it takes to live like one of them that long. “You wanted me here. You got me. You work for me now. You report to me now. Put together any data you think I need to see and don’t make any move related to that data, and I mean any move, without talking to me first.” I release her. “I’ll be in the conference room.” I turn away and head for the front office, but I don’t make it far.

“Eric,” she calls out, and my name on this woman’s lips easily halts my steps, but I don’t immediately face her. For a moment I’m back in that hotel room with her naked, in my arms, me buried inside her when she used my name and told me that she saw me, not the bastard. I wonder who she sees now. I wonder who she really saw then. My jaw clenches with that thought and I turn around to find her stepping in front of me, the small space of the narrow walkway shrinking and wrapping us in intimacy.

“I don’t know what I sense in you right now,” she says. “But remember this: Isaac has trashed you every day of your life you’ve been connected to this family. You think we’re different, but he sees me just like he sees you, and he is not kind to me. I deal with it. I handle it, but to you, we’re different. To him we’re alike.”

“And to you? Are we alike, Harper?”

“In some ways we are. We both got forced into this family and we both wanted it to be a real family. I, however, wasn’t smart enough to get out of here like you did when I could have, but I was smart enough to ask for your help. Because the way I see it, doing nothing wasn’t an option. If you take everything, then at least I’m finally free.” She turns and walks away and I watch her disappear into her office, the damn floral scent of her every-fucking-where, the way I want her naked in every fucking thought. Which would be fine if that nerve Isaac hit wasn’t jumping again.

I came here for her.

He knows it.

She knows it, too.

That’s only a problem if there’s something going on here, and my gut says that it’s designed to fuck me over. I don’t know why I’m a target, but I am, and if Harper knows the truth, she’s going to tell me, even if I have to strip her naked and cuff her to my bed to get it out of her.

But I’m still not sure she does. I’m not sure that she’s not being used or even targeted herself.

A thought that I can’t quite materialize claws at my mind, the way so many do until I realize them, until I turn them into numbers that no one but me can understand. I need to be alone and think. I also need Harper naked and cuffed to the bed, but that comes later. Not much later. Tonight. It happens tonight when I decide if I trust her or I just want to fuck her.

Chapter eighteen

Eric

With a vow to have Harper naked and in my bed tonight, I turn on my heel and walk into the lobby where I stop in front of the receptionist, a pretty blonde I’d guess to be in her twenties—and knowing Isaac, his fuck buddy. That’s what he does. He surrounds himself with pretty women who place him on a throne and kneel in front of him. A thought that has me remembering Isaac’s comment inferring Harper would fuck me to get what she wants, though her fucking me for any reason suits me just fine. Now, if she fucked him, that would be another story, and a really fucking bad one I’d have a hard time believing.

The receptionist eyes the back office where I just exited and then me again, obviously trying to figure out how I got back there without her knowing. “Can I help you?”

“I’m Eric Mitchell, the other brother.”

Her eyes go wide and then as often is the case, they rake over my tats, and then sharply lift. “You’re—as in—”

“The bastard?” I ask, but I don’t have to wait for her reply. I get right to the confirmation. “Yes. I’m him and I’m a stockholder called in on behalf of Gigi to audit the operation. I’ll be working in the conference room, if I have calls or deliveries or if anyone simply wants to share operational concerns.”


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