Filthy Rich

  She had a leather bag over her shoulder and a Starbucks in her hand. Her expression was what I remembered from the cocktail party—beautiful but with that same touch of sadness. I kept on taking in my front-row show until she was swallowed up by other bodies moving in front of her once she stepped onto the sidewalk.

  She was going home after the end of her work day. Home to Blackstone Island where she lived in a cottage above Fairchild Light at south-end—a place I probably hadn’t been since my high school days when James and the rest of us drank beer under the lighthouse in the summer and indulged in general teenage mayhem.

  I would be on the island in a few hours. Maybe I could see her this weekend. I reached for my phone and pulled her number up on Messenger . . . and just stared at it with absolutely no idea of what to say. The light turned green and the car moved on. I closed the Messenger app and put my phone away.

  She was so young. The weird thing was she didn’t seem as young as her years. Losing her parents at fifteen probably had something to do with it. That would certainly make a kid grow up fast. But there was also the evidence of a life lived and the maturity of experience in how she handled herself. The scar on her face possibly? The comment about “nobody puts their hands on me anymore”? I’d bet those two clues meant her life experience had been painful and she’d been hurt, so maybe that was the reason she appeared older than twenty-three.

  No, I wouldn’t try to see her this weekend. That wouldn’t work for what I had planned over the next two days. I had to be patient so I could fix the mess with Blackwater first. I had to take care of family business and do what I knew my dad would if it were him.

  “Harris & Goode, sir,” Isaac announced as he pulled up to the curb.

  I’d had Victoria make a late appointment with the owner in the hopes that Brooke wouldn’t be there, and so far everything was working in my favor. I wanted this deal done before she was informed on Monday morning. In a few minutes I’d know her full name.

  “I’m here to see Mr. Harris,” I told the guy at reception, not quite able to process his dark-pink leopard scarf—or was it a shawl?—as office attire. The thing was fucking huge and draped down past his knees. I was in a design studio after all, so maybe he knew something I didn’t.

  “Welcome. I’m Eduardo and you are Mr. Blackstone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Right this way, Mr. Blackstone. Mr. Harris is expecting you. His office is upstairs.”

  Eduardo led me through to the back where I caught a peek at Brooke’s office as we passed by the doorway. I knew it was hers because I saw the red flowers I’d sent to her. I was glad she liked them enough to still have them in her office weeks later.

  It dawned on me she’d just been in there a few minutes ago, and I liked to think I could still smell her perfume lingering. It was hard to tell because all kinds of scents seemed to be swirling around in this place. Starting with Eduardo’s cologne. I had a suspicion he was her phone call out on the street the night of the clusterfuck cocktail party. Which was good news for me because he was one hundred percent certifiably not her boyfriend.

  Yeah. Eduardo knew about a lot of things I didn’t.

  “Ah, Mr. Blackstone, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Jon Harris.” He shook my hand and asked if I’d like some coffee before we got started, the usual pleasantries exchanged. “How can we help you here at Harris & Goode?” he asked.

  I decided to skip the bullshit and let him know exactly what I’d come for. “My 1920s penthouse just a few blocks from here needs a complete renovation. More specifically, a woman’s touch as far as the designing goes—that point is essential, Mr. Harris. I hope you understand that I know exactly who I want working on my project. I need some help transforming a bachelor apartment into something a family could be comfortable in, and it definitely needs to be a woman doing the designing.” I smiled pleasantly before casually glancing at my watch to check the time, just to help nudge him along a little bit.

  “I see.” He eyed me curiously, probably wondering what planet I’d dropped in from. “What would be the budget for your renovation?”

  There we go. The universal language that everyone can speak fluently. “Oh, I think five million ought to be sufficient for my needs, but open to upward adjustment, of course.”

  He bowed his head slightly, as if to suppress his elation at realizing what a contract for that amount of money could do for his business, even without the future referrals he might gain through me. “I am absolutely certain we can help you, Mr. Blackstone.”

  “Excellent. Just the words I wanted to hear, Mr. Harris.” And that was how it was done.

  IT had been so long since I’d needed casual clothes, it threw off my usual routine of packing for business trips. That should tell me something. Only thirty-one years old, and I couldn’t remember the last weekend I’d had away.

  I really couldn’t remember when or where, and it annoyed me. Because it brought back what my dad had told me on his deathbed in full-on Technicolor. I could see him saying the words to me. “When you find whatever it is that makes you happy, Caleb, hold on to it with everything you’ve got. Your heart will let you know.”

  Did I even know what my “happy things” were?

  No, I did not.

  I did, however, know what didn’t make me happy. And that was being so fucking confused about my feelings for a girl I barely knew. My feelings? I scowled at that thought, and threw the last of my shit into my bag and zipped it closed.

  Just enough time for a quick shower before heading back to the offices where the heliport sat at the very top of Blackstone Global Enterprises.

  I stripped off everything and let the hot water roll over me for a minute before I went for the soap. I wasn’t sure about a lot of things at the moment, but one mystery had been cleared up for me. Brooke Ellen Casterley. I was also in possession of her design bio, and had an appointment to meet with her late Monday afternoon.

  So, it was happening, and I’d have to deal with it Monday when I walked into her office to let her know about her new project, and hopefully relieve her financial stresses. She didn’t need to find a second job any longer. The retainer fee I’d deposited tonight, payable directly to her, would take care of any urgent debts. I’d made sure.

  My plan might flop if she decided she wanted nothing to do with me, but I felt confident she would accept. And if she did accept the job, at least she would be working for me for as long as it took to renovate the penthouse. That meant I would have access to see her and talk to her . . . for a long time. What did I care if the styling cues weren’t to my taste? What did I know about the interior design of a home? Nothing. Everything I’d given input on before was for business offices.

  Just thinking about her even a little drew a reaction out of my aching cock. Remembering how she looked walking across the street in her pink coat and leather pants had me rock hard in seconds. Some soap applied under the steaming hot shower spray to just the right places . . .

  My hand reaching down to grip the heavy weight was inevitable.

  I needed to release some tension, and it felt far too fucking good once I started to even consider stopping. I wouldn’t stop pumping my fist up and down the length of my cock. Couldn’t.

  The sound of my hand as it fought for friction against the tight skin of my dick sounded almost brutal. Root to tip, twisted, and then slammed back down all the way again. Over and over the motion was repeated, all while images of her bombarded me. Some real, some fantasy—mixed in together to make such an erotic concoction I nearly went down in the shower at one point when my knees buckled. Only one thing would end it. And that would be when I came furiously hard from picturing the image of Brooke beneath me, surrounding me, and in my arms as we did this together.

  It took about three more seconds after I imagined how beautiful she’d look while we were fucking.

  Beautiful is how Brooke would be with my cock buried deep inside her. She would be mine when that happened.

&n
bsp; I called out her name when cum shot up hard from my balls and out through the head of my now-abused cock. It kept coming in punishing spurts to mix with the steam and the hot water, draining me in a way that felt unfamiliar because everything was different now.

  Her name on my lips as I came would have happened whether I wanted it to or not. Brooke and I were inevitable.

  Inevitable.

  Brooke

  On Fridays I had my dinner with Nan at the therapy facility. She told me what was going on with the other “inmates” as she referred to them, and I ate cafeteria food served on a tray complete with a boxed juice and a chocolate pudding for dessert. I didn’t mind; it was just food. You put it in your body when you’re hungry.

  “Hi, Brooke,” Lilah called from the nurses’ station, “there will be three of you for dinner tonight. She looks so pretty. I’ll bring it to the room in a few minutes.”

  Three of us? I wondered who was visiting Nan at dinnertime. “She always looks pretty, Lilah, and thank you for looking after her so well.”

  “It won’t be long until she’s out of here, she’s improving every day.”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful,” I said. The truth was I had very mixed feelings about Nan returning to the cottage and being on her own during the day. What if she fell again? It was an old house with uneven floorboards and steps that could be a death trap if it happened a second time. I still needed to talk to Herman about the value of the cottage and get his opinion on an equity loan so she could hire someone to help her during the day when I was on the mainland. I knew he cared about her. When I’d asked Nan casually about him earlier in the week, the story she’d told me had made my heart tingly for days.

  Nan and Herman had a romantic past I’d known nothing about.

  It had been a long time ago. More than thirty years had passed since the time when Nan was a young widow with a small child, and Herman Blackstone had come courting. His parents didn’t approve, so Herman broke ties with them and left the island for a long time. He ended up marrying someone else and started a family, but the marriage didn’t last. And so he returned to Blackstone Island and stayed for good. Nan and Herman were still friends—

  Whoa. Make that very good friends.

  As I rounded the corner to her room, I saw something I’d never seen before. My nan kissing a man. Well, he was actually kissing her—I think. Herman was holding her face with his two hands so sweetly, as if she were the most precious treasure on earth. She had her hands at his waist as if she’d been practicing her walking and he’d been steadying her when they decided to go for a good snogging. The scene was straight out of The Notebook minus the rain.

  I must have made a noise because they stopped and turned toward me in unison, their expressions mirroring the same peaceful happiness that only comes when the feeling is mutual.

  We all blushed simultaneously I think.

  Nan reached out a hand to me. “Brooke, my lovely girl, I have—that is—we have something to share with you.”

  I walked forward to take her hand in mine. “I already know what it is, Nan, because anyone can see the two of you are hopelessly in love with each other.”

  “SO, you won’t be returning to the cottage when you come out of here, will you?” I asked.

  “That won’t be possible, Brooke, because she’ll be living with me in my house,” Herman said quietly before pulling Nan’s hand up to his lips for a kiss. Mr. Romance was making the moves on my nan, and it was so damn sweet to witness.

  Okaaaay. That would stir up the island gossips fairly quickly. I glanced at Nan to see what she thought of Herman’s suggestion. “The gossips will have a field day with that news,” I said cautiously.

  She glowed with a love that shone so brightly I had to blink. “As husband and wife, Brooke darling. Herman has asked me to marry him and I’ve accepted.”

  Deep breath in. Deep breath out. “Oh. My. God. Nan! I’m so happy for you both. It’s really the most lovely news I could ever hear. Congratulations, you two.”

  I hugged them both in turn, first Nan and then Herman, feeling the tears rise up violently in a surge I couldn’t tamp down. This loss of control happened to me in emotional situations, so it wasn’t a surprise to me at all. And it was totally unwelcome at a happy time such as the announcement of a marriage. Mortifying.

  I was in good hands, though. Herman and Nan both seemed to understand my weakness when each of them opened an arm to me.

  I fell in between them and wept until the overwhelming urge passed almost as quickly as it had come.

  I’d never had this problem before my fatal mistake. I hadn’t cried at the drop of a hat or in situations where happiness ruled before the accident that changed my life. Changed it for the better . . . and also for the worse. Duality. A situation where the line between good and bad could not exist because it was both.

  And I had to live with it for the rest of my life.

  I pulled myself together and gave them a huge smile that I truly felt all the way down to the depths of my heart, and said, “I suppose this means there is a wedding to plan.”

  “Can you pull one together in a few weeks?” Herman had quite the twinkle in his deep-blue eyes. He appeared to be one eager bridegroom, and I had to suppress a giggle at the thought. Nope. Not going there. Thoughts of my grandmother and her fiancé together could just go right on out of my head. Oh, my God. My nan had a fiancé!

  “I’ll need some help, but I know just the person to make it happen,” I told him.

  “Eduardo?” Nan asked.

  I nodded. “He would be so honored and will make it magical for you, Nan, I know it.”

  “Sounds wonderful, my darling. Now, please, let’s talk about you.” She reached for my hand and rubbed her thumb over the top slowly. “How does this all sit with you? I know you came back to help me when I needed it, but I want you to be honest with me now when I ask you if you’re comfortable living alone at the cottage?”

  “Yes, Nan, of course. I’ve been alone in the cottage for the last five mon—”

  “Let me finish, please, my lovely girl.” She gave me that stern look of scolding I’d known for years. “I’ve discussed it with Herman and he would love to welcome you to live with us in his home if you want to.”

  She was worried about me living alone in the cottage, afraid I wasn’t ready to handle the isolation. Yet. But she didn’t need to be. I craved it actually. It was exactly what I needed.

  “You two are so adorable, and I thank you for the kind and generous offer, though I wouldn’t dream of intruding on newlyweds who’ve waited a lifetime to be together. I will be perfect in the cottage by myself. It is perfect for me.”

  “Then it is yours, darling. Herman will see to it the deed of trust is transferred into your name.”

  “Already in the works, my dear.” Herman winked. “You own a piece of the island now, Brooke.”

  “I do?” I felt tears welling again.

  “Free and clear,” he said. “The property value has increased quite a bit from when your grandfather bought it forty years ago, obviously. The house is small, but the view is what counts and you have a beauty up there on the hill above the Fairchild Light.”

  “I love the view so much,” I whispered, suddenly at a loss, and completely overwhelmed.

  “It appraised at just over two million, but with some renovations that would increase nicely, depending what you want to do with it, of course.” Herman nodded his head, happy to be the bringer of good news.

  “Two—two million dollars?”

  Herman laughed and patted my hand. “Two point two five to be precise.”

  “You’ve both shocked the hell out of me—in a good way mind you—but I had no idea about any of this. I’ve been so worried about the money I was going to ask you, Herman, about taking out a loan on the equity to pay medical bills.” I was light-headed with relief.

  “That’s not your worry anymore, my dear. Everything is paid in full, and my Ellen is going to ma
rry me,” he said, before giving Nan another kiss to her hand, and making her blush beautifully. “It’s only about thirty-five years too late but I will take it gratefully.”

  What a wise man Herman Blackstone was. Take your happiness when it comes. It was good advice I mustn’t forget. When . . . If happiness graced my life again. Possibly not of the romance variety for quite some time, but that was okay. Time on my own was exactly what my heart needed. Joy instead of sadness.

  I’d been so worried about Nan being alone. But I didn’t need to worry about her anymore. I could focus on getting my life back. It felt like a huge weight was lifted from me, and I barely knew what to do with such a light heart.

  “Dinner is served,” Lilah announced as she rolled a cart into the room, breaking the spell of disbelief that had me wondering if I would wake up from this dream any moment and be thrust back into the cold harshness of reality.

  Apparently not, because Lilah told us what we were having for dinner, and it struck me as absolutely hilarious. Spaghetti and . . . meatballs.

  Of course I immediately thought of Caleb and the flowers he’d sent to me. But more so my very rude rant when he’d called me to flirt. He had been flirting with me. I knew it, and I shut him down anyway. I’d been rather a bitch to him, and Caleb had been nothing but nice to me.

  I pulled my phone out of my purse and took some pictures of Nan and Herman first, because they were adorable and so happy together it was a must. Then I arranged my plate of spaghetti and meatballs for a photo op and snapped some foodie pics.

  “What on earth are you doing, Brooke?” Nan asked me.

  “I’m taking pictures of your engagement dinner, Nan. Every woman should be so lucky to have spaghetti and meatballs when she gets engaged.”