Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Luc’s eyes widened. He was as surprised as I had been.
In our world, revenge was not something a lady should demand. Olivia wasn’t a lady, not really. She looked like a lady, she sounded like a lady, but she was a stone-cold businesswoman, and the sexiest woman I had ever seen.
It really was a pity I didn’t know that before I fucked everything up.
“So that is why I am here. You want to beg me not to kill you for touching Olivia before you can fulfill your promise to her.”
I sighed. Luc was always such a fucking drama queen.
“No, I struck at you. You struck back. That was business, and we are even on that front. You actually ended up ahead because you found a woman you love. I am here because everything after that was orchestrated by someone else. I think we should strike back at them, together.”
The way Luc was staring, I knew he was working out scenarios in his head, always thinking several steps ahead. A useful skill, but too many variables to be accurate, in my opinion.
“I am assuming you have a plan?” he finally said.
“No, but I am about to.”
The heavy wooden door slid open behind Luc and closed with an audible click.
Harrison Astrid had arrived, and I poured the third snifter of Scotch.
CHAPTER 39
OLIVIA
“It looks like Texas threw up in here,” I said behind my glass, just loud enough for Amelia to hear me.
She tried, very unsuccessfully, to stifle a laugh as we looked out over the sea of men wearing jeans with their blazers and women wearing denim skirts or jeans and bedazzled tops. More than a few of the guests were wearing ten-gallon cowboy hats.
It was the most ridiculous theme for an event I had ever seen.
One older woman came dressed in an all-denim ball gown that just looked heavy on her frail body, but she was smiling like she was having the time of her life, so who was I to judge. It was almost like being in denim instead of finery gave the guests an excuse to be less civilized and have a little fun.
“Seriously, who thought of this theme?” Amelia asked.
She looked stunning tonight in jeans that fit her like a glove and made her ass look fantastic. She wore a green silk halter top with them that was just fabulous. Luc apparently thought so, too. Every time I saw him, he was staring at her like a hungry wolf, ready to pounce.
“Charlotte,” I answered. “She is obsessed with this show called Yellowstone. The other day at breakfast, our father asked what she thought about a certain man as a suitor. She asked him if he could wrangle a stallion.”
“What does that even mean?” Amelia asked.
“I have no idea. He didn’t either. He just stared at her until she walked away, back to practicing her cello. Honestly, I think it was a way to end the conversation.”
“Has he said anything about finding you a husband?”
I shuddered at the thought of some loveless arranged marriage. It worked out for Amelia and Luc, but I was not counting on lightning striking twice.
“No, he still can’t look me in the eye.”
“Oh, while you were gone, did you see what happened with that model friend of yours?” Amelia asked.
“No. Which friend?”
She took her phone out of her back pocket. I hated to admit it, but as uncultured as I found the Denim and Diamonds Ball, having pockets was incredibly convenient. Why didn’t more women’s clothing have pockets? Probably because if my favorite dresses had pockets, I wouldn’t need the matching ten-thousand-dollar handbags to go with them.
Amelia pulled up an article from the Huffington Post on her phone and handed it over. Colin Krits wasn’t a friend. He was someone who was often at the same fashion events and had made it his mission to get me to go out with him. He was pretty, and I did have him do some work for the magazine, but something about him always rubbed me the wrong way.
According to this article, he was being blackballed from the industry for drugs, and he had been arrested for prostitution and possession. His boyfriend had thrown him over for another man and one of the Kardashians who had considered him a friend was now freezing him out. And the icing on the cake? All her fans had started attacking him on social media.
Honestly, I felt slightly bad he had been canceled so harshly. I didn’t condone the drug use, but if Marksen had released those pictures of me the same thing would have happened.
“This is so sad,” I said.
“Oh, no it’s not. Keep reading.”
I scrolled further and saw screenshots of his messages to women, berating and threatening them, and then messages to his boyfriend joking about how he was going to marry a bitch and get all her money for them. I didn’t know how I knew, but I knew he wasn’t talking about a West Coast glamazon.