Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 69456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Pushing my chair back, I go up to my feet and walk toward my office door. Opening it up, I step outside into the lobby and go straight toward my secretary’s desk.
“Yes, Ms. Seymour?” she asks me in her sweet French accent, immediately picking up one pen and readying herself to jot down whatever I’m going to say. I met Clara back when I was travelling through France and, even though she was still in college at the time, she struck me as an oddly brilliant young woman. When I got back to the US, hiring her was one of the first things I did. And so far, I haven’t regretted that decision. Despite her age, she’s probably one of my hardest working employees.
“I want you to send a message to Mr. Blake and Mr. Stackford. Tell them that I’ve decided to go with both of their recommendations,” I tell her, feeling as if a heavy weight has finally been lifted off my shoulders. I’ve been struggling with this decision for too long, and now that I’ve finally decided on a course of action, I feel so much lighter. God, I could tiptoe my way across a road made of clouds!
“So, I see you’ve already started squandering your parents’ money,” I hear a voice say, and my skin prickles as if an icy wind has just whipped at my skin. That voice, that tone… It was inevitable that, sooner or later, she would show her face; and still, I wasn’t expecting for it to happen this soon. But I guess the Devil doesn’t keep any particular schedule.
“Wanda,” I greet her flatly, turning around to face her as she walks down the lobby toward me, high-end purse slung over her shoulder. Even though a few years have passed since I saw her for the last time, she doesn’t seem to have aged a bit. In fact, she seems even more beautiful that before, her blue eyes charged with that deep magnetism with which she ensnared my father, Derek, and Carter.
“Eliza,” she says in that icy tone of hers, her posture rigid and formal. “How was Europe? I heard you had the time of your life.” I stare back at her in silence, fully knowing that her words are nothing but a way to goad me into a fight. She’s always been like that, circling around her targets like a vulture and prodding with well placed words. In another life, I bet she was either a chess player or a pugilist. Or a cutthroat assassin, that too.
“What do you want, Wanda?” I ask her right away, not willing to play her game.
“Can’t a woman visit her stepdaughter?” she shoots back, a hint of a smile on her lips. “I waited all this time for you to come and visit me … but what a surprise, you didn’t come.”
“Please, don’t pretend we’re family. We’re not.” I don’t even bother with playing the niceties game. I know enough of Wanda not to fall for her faux nice words. I played that game when my father was alive, but she never fooled me. Behind her easy smile and high society posture, I always saw her for what she really is—a woman who knows no boundaries when it comes to getting what she wants. And what she wants is always the same thing, money and power.
“Oh, we’re not family? I can’t say I’m surprised you’d say such a thing. After all, you ran out on your family, didn’t you? Instead of staying, you acted like a brat and ran away to Europe.”
“I didn’t run away,” I hiss, clenching my jaw, and I realize that she’s pulling my strings. I need to keep my head over my shoulders.
“Tell me, Eliza,” she says, closing the distance between us and leaning forward, taking her mouth close to my ear. “Which one of them are you fucking? Derek? Carter? It’s more than obvious what’s happening.”
My body reacts faster than my mind does. Before I even know what I’m doing, I’ve cocked my arm back and the palm of my hand is flying in an arch straight toward her face. I slap her hard, but she doesn’t even flinch. She just gives me that pristine smile of hers, her eyes narrowing into two dangerous slits.
“Get. Out.” I push the words out with effort, my blood boiling inside my veins. I’ve never been the kind of woman to be pulled into a fight, but I’m more than willing to open an exception when it comes to Wanda. And, God, I gotta admit, it felt good to slap her. No, more than good… It felt terrific.
“Is this how you treat your mother?”
“You’re not my mother. I tolerated you because of my father, but now that he’s gone… You’re nothing to me, Wanda. You never cared for me, and you never cared for my father. You only care about yourself. I’ll tell you once more: get the fuck out, or else I’m calling security.”