Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 61290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Storming over to my discarded duster, I pick it up and then hurry over to my cart. I’m just pushing it out of his office when his words stop me.
“Negotiating can be fun,” he calls out. “I have money. Lots of it. You’d be surprised what I would be willing to pay for.”
“Fuck you.”
He chuckles. “Again, that’s a freebie. I’ll text you later.”
Swiveling around, I glower at him. “I didn’t give you my number.”
“I’ll find it. When I do, be prepared to negotiate. Do you have Apple Pay?”
I don’t reward him with an answer, but instead flip him off. I’ve already given him too much.
“Set it up if you don’t have it,” he booms. “I’d pay five hundred dollars just to watch you suck on that middle finger for thirty seconds.”
Five hundred dollars?!
“A picture, and it’s going to cost you a thousand,” I scream back at him, hating how tears are once again flooding my cheeks.
“Ahh, look how you’re learning. Good girl. Talk soon.”
I hate how the entire elevator ride down to the bottom floor I sob, knowing I’d absolutely give him that stupid picture for a thousand dollars.
In less than thirty minutes, this man completely transformed who I thought I was. I dread to think what he could do in a day or two, or a week.
He’s going to destroy me.
What’s worse, I’ll let him.
5
Winston
I stare at the second hand on my Breguet 18k white gold retro watch as it ticks slowly by. Mother is droning on about a gala to Tinsley while Perry adds his two cents. Nate, my wingman whenever I’m forced to have brunch with my family, cheerfully asks my mother a million questions, which I know thrills her to no end. Vivian, Elaine, and Keaton all stare at their phones, wishing away the minutes, much like I do.
“That’s great, Mother,” Perry rumbles. “Right, bro?”
When Keaton doesn’t answer, I cut my gaze to my obnoxious younger brother. “Pardon?”
Tinsley rolls her eyes at me, and Mother smirks. Perry’s blue eyes that match mine exactly, sparkle with mischief. He may be an adult, but he’s still every bit a child to me.
“Her idea about your birthday party.” Perry leans back in his chair, curling his arm around Mother’s shoulders as if to claim her as only his.
Mother preens a little at her son’s attention. “Oh, darling,” she coos. “Winston doesn’t care about such things.”
For fuck’s sake. Here we go.
“I care, Mother, but I’m not Tinsley,” I grind out, ignoring my sister’s huff of annoyance. “I don’t need you to invite half the city and throw an extravagant ball like her coming out party. But, if that’s what you wish to do, I’ll be there in my best tux. You know I always appreciate your efforts to make me happy.”
“Of course you do,” Perry placates. “Our mother spoils us. It’s why I want to spoil her in return. That reminds me, Winston, I’m going to need five hundred grand.”
Keaton snorts, and Vivian laughs.
“Perry, baby, you know you don’t have to buy me a thing,” Mother says with a laugh. “Your father left me all this.” She waves a manicured hand toward her palatial estate, also known as the Constantine Compound. “And I have you children who indulge me in frequent Saturday brunches. What more could a mother ask for?”
Elaine pretends to gag, making Nate stifle a chuckle from beside me.
“How about a trip to Barbados with her favorite son?” Perry asks, leaning in to kiss her cheek.
“Suck up,” Keaton mutters under his breath.
“Children,” Mother admonishes, though she clearly loves the attention and banter. “Behave, please. We have a guest. I’m sure, Perry, that Winston will get you the money you need.”
“For the record, a trip to Barbados doesn’t cost half a million,” I grit out. “My guess is it’s another ‘investment.’”
Perry’s face burns crimson, his blue eyes flickering with fury. “My investments always pan out.”
“Not what Harold says,” I toss back, reminding him we share the same accountant.
“Enough business,” Mother chides. “Talk it out over lunch next week, boys. Today, I want us to celebrate.”
As Mother dives into whatever it is she really brought us here for, my thoughts roll back to Ash. That girl hasn’t left my mind since she sat up on my desk last night. I rubbed one out in the shower later with images of her wet panties seared into my brain. My mind has been whirring ever since as I come up with a million different things I want her to do.
My phone buzzes on the table. I pick it up to discover it’s an email with a phone number and other information on Ash Elliott from Deborah. Deborah is a hound when I need information, uncovering everything I could possibly want. In her email, she included a picture of a charming five-bedroom recently-restored three-point-five-million-dollar brownstone in Brooklyn.