Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
I look up the stairs, wondering why she’s decided to bring this to me and not Rachel, but fuck it. “That’s unfortunate. Please take one of mine.”
She nods but doesn’t move.
“Is there something else?” I stare down at her, her brown eyes flashing as if she’s angry with me. If Rachel hadn’t thrown a fit about having her, I’d fire her ass. Instead, I plaster on a smile.
“Yes. Ms. Raven… is not like Ms. Rachel.” I blink at her. Am I getting a lecture from the help?
“Excuse me?” I raise a brow. There’s balls, and there’s full-on recklessness. Does she not know who I am? Screw this, I’m gonna fire her ass.
“Oh, Maria, thank goodness I caught you before you go.” My fiancée descends the stairs, wearing a tight, navy pin-striped skirt and white blouse. The relief in her face at seeing Maria makes me pause.
“Can you and Raven pick up Jett and my dry cleaning on the way back from the airport, please? I’d send Darcy, but she’s doing damage control for one of my clients.” She runs her hands through her black bob. Her stilettos echo on the floor.
“Yes, Ms. Rachel.” Maria’s voice is almost monotone.
I cross my arms, fascinated at this play of events. Rachel Stewart, the badass bitch who came from nowhere, who clawed and fucked her way to the top, creating one of the most successful PR firms in the country, is desperate for Maria’s help.
Why?
Maria is not even hiding her disapproval. It’s literally oozing out of her.
“You know what?” I start to text. “Why don’t I have Iain drive you, Maria?”
Both Rachel and Maria stare at me, mouths agape. “Honey, don’t be silly. Maria has a car.”
“Apparently not. Seems it’s broken. I’ll take the Tesla today. Maria, you go get Ms. Stewart’s child.” I smile, watching Maria. Apparently, she’s not impressed by my generous offer if the narrowing of her eyes is any indication.
Interesting.
Rachel reaches for her purse. “I’ve been telling you for years that car is unsafe, Maria. I’m shocked it’s lasted as long as it did,” she says and pulls out her sunglasses with a sigh. “Also, I know this is bad timing what with…” She waves in Maria’s direction. “But I may have to do a quick trip to New York.” She holds up her hand as if to stop any conversation from us.
“Okay, well, I’m off.” She nods at Maria. “Jett and I will be home late tonight.” She dramatically puts on her sunglasses, then turns and leaves, her overpowering perfume following her.
I look back at the maid, nanny… whatever she is. “How long have you been working for Ms. Stewart?” My eyes take in her face. She’s tiny but her frame is strong. Her frown lines make her appear older than she probably is.
“I’ve been with Ms. Rachel for twenty-five years.” She gives me a curt nod. “Where is this Mr. Iain? I don’t want to be late for my Raven.” She looks at her watch. My mouth twitches at her audacity. She’s starting to grow on me. Clearly Rachel is a shit mom, and her kid needs Maria.
“He’s waiting outside. I’ve told him to take you wherever you need to go.” I grin again at her. If it’s possible for her to frown more, she does.
“Thank you,” she mumbles and walks over to one of my original Chippendale tables for her purse.
“Maria?” My voice stops her.
“Yes?” She turns.
“Please put Raven in the guest room that faces the backyard. The view is beautiful.” She blinks at me, but nods.
Turning, I move toward the back of the house and grab the key fob for my Tesla.
For a split second, I wonder what this Raven looks like. Is she tall and reconstructed by plastic surgery like her mother? Christ, Rachel doesn’t even have a picture of her daughter anywhere. Isn’t that some kind of requirement for a mom? My parents’ house is piled with photos of my brother and me.
Whatever, with Rachel as her mother I’m sure she’s either a spoiled brat or a scared mouse. Either way, none of it concerns me. The girl is here for the summer; then she’ll be back in New York. To be honest, I’ll be surprised if I say more than ten words to her while she’s here.
My phone vibrates as I start up my Tesla.
“Talk to me, Rebecca.” And all thoughts of Rachel and her kid vanish as I start my day. There’s a reason I am the best defense attorney in the world, and it’s not just because of my personality and looks.
No. I live, breathe, and eat my job. The more demanding and challenging a case is, the harder it makes my cock.
I don’t lose.
I don’t believe in chance.
And I make my own fucking luck.
I love my life.
RAVEN
LAX Airport
“I hate my life,” I gripe at Cher, my bestie and the traitor who’s leaving me to go to Florence, where she’ll spend the entire next month with her family in their incredible château. Drinking wine, sunbathing nude, and—knowing Cher—meeting some hot Italian guy who speaks no English but doesn’t need to because his giant cock says it all.