Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 70322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Did I maybe want Drake to myself?
"I can't fault you now for marrying Linda, man," I say to him. "Otherwise, I would've never met Natalie."
That makes us both pause.
Natalie Vanderhill.
The girl with the beautiful face. The gorgeous fucking body. That tight heart-shaped ass. Those slender legs. That flat stomach. Those luscious tits.
And the dirtiest fucking mind I've ever seen in a woman.
"Natalie is...special," Drake says, choosing his words. I understand where my stepdad is coming from. It's a loaded fucking subject. "Hell, she's the reason we're in this room today talking to each other as civilized people."
"When you married Linda, there was a lot of hurt," I tell Drake, going back to my epiphany. I think I almost have it to put into words.
"But that hurt wasn't because I thought you were forgetting about Mom," I tell him. He's nodding, and looking at me now. "That hurt was because I thought you were forgetting about me."
"I wasn't close to even trying to be a good dad, Sloane," Drake says shaking his head.
"That's not it," I say to him and Drake looks at me.
What is that in his eyes?
He's my stepdad. All it can be is concern.
"I think, yeah, I needed a father," I tell Drake slowly. "But I think I was jealous of Linda because she was going to be your lover."
Drake is quiet.
And that's the fucking rub, isn't it.
I was jealous of my stepmom, not because I didn't want a new family coming in.
Because on some deeper level, I was attracted to my stepdad.
It's been an attraction that I haven't been able to reconcile all this fucking time.
So what did I do instead?
I lashed out. I got angry. I built walls. I never settled on one woman.
So much to tell Drake about. And looking at him, I see he hasn't turned away in shock or disgust anymore. He's smiling; it's an open fucking invitation.
We're going to finally bury the fucking hatchet. We're going to--
The phone interrupts my thinking.
"Mr. Hardman," Cheryl says with professionalism in her voice. "The investors are here to go over the final details on the investment of Dirty Lil' Angels. They're in the South Conference Room."
Fuck. This is a real meeting.
Drake understands though that we've had a fucking breakthrough. He gets up.
"Let's grab some dinner," he says. "The three of us. We have a lot of talk about."
I get up. We shake hands. A bit awkwardly. And then he's out the door.
And I'm in a whole new world. Every last thing I knew has fucking changed.
I honestly need a breather, to be honest.
A meeting with some bankers is just what I need to get my focus back.
Why don't you go see what Natalie is up to?
16
Natalie
“Open the door, I know you’re there,” I hear my mom say from the hallway, the footsteps of her pacing back and forth like a caged lioness reaching me like a bad omen. Maybe if I just remain silent she’ll give up and go away.
“I can see your shadow from under the door, you know?” she continues triumphantly, and finally stops pacing.
Sigh. I guess I can’t avoid her, right? She’s my mom, I know, but after that fight at The Oak Room I’m in no mood to see her. Ah, screw this.
Surrendering, I open up the door and there she is, hands on her hips and a frown on her face. “I can’t believe you’re avoiding your own mother, Natalie. That’s so below you,” she tells me, walking inside the apartment while she shakes her head in disapproval.
“Well, maybe that’s because my own mother is trying to force me to destroy my company,” I shoot right back, closing the door and preparing for another fight.
“Sell your company. Not destroy. It’s totally different,” she replies in a condescending tone, as if I was still five years old and she was explaining to me why playing with the poor kids isn’t proper. “Honey, think it through. You own a sex toy company. What kind of career is this? You have a degree in finance.”
“I know what kind of company I have, and I also know what I graduated in, mom. But this is my life.”
“Sweetie, please. I’m just trying to help you, really. Get rid of this awful company of yours, get a proper job—like I know you can—and once I’m mayor it’ll all payoff. I’ll pull some strings for you and set you up for life.”
Her words are full of honey, and the lines around her eyes seem to have gained a soft, and almost kind, quality. Linda, the actress—please give this woman an Oscar. Her words might be honey, but trust me, her intent is vinegar.
“No.”
“Be rational about this, Natalie,” she continues sweetly, reaching for me and taking my hand in hers. “You’re my daughter. Forget about my bid for mayor, I’m just thinking of you right now. You’ve proved whatever it is you want to prove, haven’t you? You have money; you have success. Wouldn’t it be nice to be respected as well?”