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)
“She’s not stalking me, Rachel. She was there to fuck a stranger,” I snarl, my eyes taking in her cigarette.
“Then why is she home?” Her voice doesn’t hide her contempt.
“Because she’s underage, and the stranger was Andrew.” I stare at Rachel who takes one more inhale and walks to the kitchen to run water on the end.
“Andrew Carrington?” She still sounds doubtful, but I’m sick of her, this day, and not being able to come home in peace. I spent a lot of money making my home a haven for me. I usually like coming home. Lately, I dread it.
“Yes, Andrew Carrington.”
“Why?” She shuts the water off and turns to face me.
“Why, what?” I growl, going around her to the refrigerator.
“Why would you care? I mean, for someone like Andrew to even look at Raven… In all honesty, she’s borderline attractive. I’ve seen the women he dates. She could only be so lucky.”
I shut the refrigerator door slowly as my mind tries to process her words. “Let me understand what you just said. You think I should have left Raven to get fucked by Andrew and be grateful for it? Have you lost your mind?” My eyes remain focused on her face.
“Have you? Because all I know is that ever since my daughter moved in, you haven’t touched me. In fact, you act like I’m beneath you. And don’t try that lawyer shit,” she screams, slapping the marble island for effect.
“I’m tired.” I snort, walking around her toward the stairs.
“Don’t you dare walk away from me, Jett Powers. What is happening?” She runs after me.
“I’m going to bed.” I turn and look at her. She’s right. I have zero interest in her sexually, and haven’t for a long time.
“And”—I take a step on the stairs—“Raven will be going to work with me. She can intern. Clearly, she needs to keep busy even if her mother doesn’t care whether she fucks random men. I do. It’s bad for my name, your name. I refuse for it to go around our circle that your daughter is a whore.” That shuts her ugly red lips that were getting ready to spew more jealous venom. Turning, I take the stairs two at a time.
“Jett, I’m sorry. I didn’t think about it like that. You’re right. She can’t be screwing around. I’m mortified.” She pants after me, but I’m done with her tonight. Too fucking raw.
I need a shower and sleep. I’ll deal with everything in the morning when I don’t feel like I’m ready to murder someone.
That includes my Lolita.
RAVEN
“Get up.”
I blink my eyes open. “Oh, God, that’s a lot of light.” Rolling to my back, I fling my arm over my eyes to shield me from the morning sun Jett let into my room.
“We’re leaving in forty-five minutes.” His hypnotic voice makes me peek up at him. He’s dressed in a starched white dress shirt, sapphire-colored tie, and black suit slacks. My face instantly heats when I remember the dream I was just having about him.
“Wait, what?” I stop as the debacle of last night rolls over me. One second I’m peaceful, the next I want to roll up in a ball and hide.
The bar… how? Out of hundreds of bars, that’s the one I picked? Then the redhead, Andrew, and Jax Saddington.
Jesus, Raven.
Why didn’t I simply get a room? I could have gotten drunk watching Friends, not having Jett Powers glaring down at me, saying something about forty-five minutes. Did I agree to something and I’m not remembering?
No. I wasn’t that drunk. Tipsy, yes. I did slam two large martinis on an empty stomach, but I still remember… unfortunately.
I wonder if I pretended I was drunk from earlier, and that’s why I went to the bar. Because my thinking was impaired. No, that won’t work. My bitch of a mom saw me before I left. Also, it was clear I was there to hook up with someone. Oh God.
“Raven. Get up and take a shower,” he demands.
My eyes dart to his, and I nod, not sure what I’m agreeing to, but it involves him, so that makes me breathless. The last thing I heard last night was my mother screaming that he hasn’t touched her since I showed up.
“Good. Wear what I’ve laid out for you.” Again, it’s a demand, but his eyes caress my face. He turns to leave.
“Holy shit.” I sit up. My head is pounding, and my mouth is in desperate need of water, but even feeling like shit, I can’t stop the butterflies in my stomach.
He hasn’t slept with her.
At all, since me. That has to be positive. I throw the covers off to stand and stretch. The clothes he wants me to wear are draped perfectly on my huge leather chair.
Hmm, black slacks and a black sleeveless turtleneck with heeled black pumps. I take a breath and exhale, then look at my phone. Eight thirty in the morning. I reach for my bag to dig out some Advil, trying hard to block out last night, and grab a bottle of water off my dresser.