Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 75783 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75783 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
“I was doing what I thought I had to do.”
“And I decided you didn’t have to do it anymore. You should be on your knees, sucking my cock in gratitude.”
Her cheeks go dark red before she slams herself against the seat, arms folded. “No, thank you,” she whispers.
“Exactly what the hell do you think you’re wearing? What?” I scoff. “Did you think you could turn him off by wearing some bulky, sloppy outfit? All you did was make me look bad. Now everybody will think I hired the sort of assistant who would dress like a slob for a nice dinner. You know what? We are going to remove that possibility tonight.”
She’s still sputtering and bitching, but it’s easy to tune her out. She’s nothing but background noise, like a buzzing gnat, by the time I place the call to the owner of a shop where I’ve spent a small fortune over the years. “This is Dawson Price,” I announce, skipping over the small talk. “I need a favor.”
“What can we do for you?”
Glancing Harper’s way out of the corner of my eye, I explain, “I’m bringing you a new customer. I need a full wardrobe. Professional.”
“Are you joking?” Harper hisses like she overheard me plotting a murder instead of treating her to a new wardrobe she couldn’t hope to afford on her own.
Ignoring her, I ask, “Can you have a team there in ten minutes?”
“They should be wrapping up for the night. I’ll call in and let them know we need them to stay.”
“Thank you.” I deliberately avoid looking toward Harper once the call is over. I feel her glaring at me—let her glare.
“Why are you doing this?” she whispers after a few silent minutes on the way to the boutique.
“Do you mean why am I purchasing you clothing that will help you project a professional image? Or maybe you’re asking why I’m treating you to this instead of demanding you pay for it yourself?” Gesturing toward her with one hand, I add, “One thing is for sure. You’re never wearing this slop again.”
In fact, I’m inspired to call the penthouse while my stepsister continues to stew. Maggie picks up. “I’m going to need you to do me a favor,” I explain.
“What can I do?” she asks.
“You’re going to go into Harper’s room and empty her dresser and closet.”
“What?” Harper almost barks.
“Throw it all away,” I continue, ignoring her. “She’s going to start from scratch.”
“I’m going to need underwear and pajamas,” she reminds me, but I ignore that, too. This girl is going to learn what it takes not only to be my assistant, but to be part of this world. There’s more to it than siphoning money away from her mom’s newest victim.
“You can’t just do this. Ordering people around, throwing out their clothes.” The girl will not stop trying to get her way even once we’ve pulled up in front of the discreet boutique. There’s no signage, nothing to advertise it to the average passerby. They don’t need to go to those lengths around here, relying on word-of-mouth and a reputation for excellence to keep their appointment book overflowing with discerning clients. It’s a fucking privilege to step through the door.
Of course, the girl still seated in the back of the limo doesn’t see it that way. “Where are you taking me? This could be any place. I don’t like this.”
“I am so thoroughly surprised,” I tell her with a sigh. “Do us both a favor and shut your mouth, would you? You’re giving me a headache.” Really, I’m amazed at how easy it is to infuriate her over the stupidest shit. “And consider yourself lucky I’m not the kind of man who takes it personally when a generous offer is practically thrown back in my face.”
“I guess nobody ever told you a generous offer is shit if the person you’re making the offer to isn’t interested.”
“And I guess no one ever told you to grow up and learn when a fight isn’t worth waging.” Stepping out of the car, I’m not surprised she doesn’t follow me right away. I lean in, adding, “Trust me. All you’re doing is wasting time. If you want that pricey art school tuition covered, you are going to learn how to project the sort of image that’s expected from a girl in your position. I’m not going to have you out in the world looking like a homeless person. Now get out of this car before I drag you out by your hair, Harper. Fun is fun, but you’ve worn my patience down to a nub.”
She’s stubborn, but she’s not stupid, though she can’t resist the urge to drag her feet, throwing me filthy looks as we cross the sidewalk.
“You’re lucky I don’t burn all the shit Maggie takes out of your room,” I mutter before ringing the bell nailed beside the nondescript door of a brownstone, nestled among similar structures. The door opens immediately, like someone was waiting on the other side, which they very well could have been.