“I thought he was just being eccentric!” I protest. “I never thought for one second he would do something like this.”
I never saw it coming, not even close. Why would Ashcroft leave everything to me? But then, I’ve been distracted the past couple of weeks.
This could be the biggest day of my life, changing everything I’ve ever known. But I still can’t get him off my mind.
Vaughn.
Sexy and dangerous, with a filthy mouth and a body that could make a grown woman weep with joy. And I did. He’s the most intoxicating man I’ve ever known, and since the day he strolled into my boss’s office, looked me in the eye, and told me he wanted to fuck me senseless, I’ve been running from my desire, trying my best to stay out of his reach. But I couldn’t run forever -- not with the way he makes me feel.
Reckless. Alive. Sexy.
Even now, I blush to remember. The way he ordered me to pleasure him. How I knelt, naked on my hands and knees. The thrill I felt, submitting to his every word. And the wicked, sensual, forbidden things he did with my body. Things I can’t even whisper to myself in the privacy of my mind.
I feel a pang in my chest, confusion and hurt that shows no signs of fading. I was ready to give him everything, begging for his touch -- and then it all fell apart.
He’s been calling me ever since, leaving voicemails, demanding answers, but I can’t bring myself to face him.
I’m scared just one look in those piercing blue eyes will undo my resolve. I’ll remember just how amazing it felt to be in his arms, to feel his tongue on my body, and then I’ll give in to the desire again and ignore all the warning signs telling me to run.
He’s dangerous, I tell myself. You’re better off without him. And you have bigger things to worry about now.
The doors fly open, and tall, dark-haired man in his late twenties strides in.
“Oh shit,” I whisper to Justine.
“Trouble?”
“Ashcroft’s son, Brent,” I explain. “I met him at the hospital after Ashcroft was admitted. He creeps me out.”
“Yeah, well he doesn’t look too thrilled with you either.”
She’s right. Brent gives me a look that would strip paint, hostile and furious. Behind him, a slim brunette girl on towering stiletto heels walks in, followed by a sandy-haired guy in jeans.
Those must be his other kids, Isabelle and Ford. Ashcroft said, they’d squandered half his fortune between them, and barely even gave him the time of day anymore. He swore he’d disinherit them, and I guess he followed through on that threat.
Brent strides over. “I don’t know what you did to my father, you little slut,” he accuses. “But you won’t get a penny, you understand?”
Justine rises to her feet and gives him a cool look. “Refrain from talking to my client. This will all be settled when the will is read.”
“That will is a fucking joke,” he curses. “She’s the one who wrote the damn thing!”
“I didn’t,” I protest. Justine gives me a look to say shut up, but I can’t help it. “I filed the paperwork, and helped with his typing. That’s all.”
“We’ll see about that.” Brent narrows his eyes at me in a cold glare. “Everyone knows your reputation. There’s no way a judge will uphold it in court.”
The three march past me, straight into the office without knocking.
“What does he mean, my reputation?” I turn to Justine in confusion.
“Hell if I know.” She shrugs.
The door opens, and an assistant leans out. “We’re ready for you now,” she says.
Justine reaches for her purse. “Ready to find out if your a multi-millionaire?”
I take a breath. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
* * *
Inside the conference room, Ashcroft’s kids are sitting scowling at me. There are a few people in suits I don’t recognize, and a few that I do, but everyone turns to look at me as I make my way to a free seat.
I hear their whispers as I pass.
“She’s the one...”
“Gold-digger. He left her everything....”
I feel like an intruder as I take a seat in the back. I’m not supposed to be here, it’s clear.
“Ignore them,” Justine whispers, loud enough for the whole room to hear. “They’re just jealous.”
I give her a grateful smile. I don’t know where I’d be without her -- probably still crying in my apartment over what happened with Vaughn. She was the one who called me that night the minute she heard about Ashcroft. She dragged me out, and tried to distract me. Which isn’t easy, when I feel so mixed up inside.
A stern-looking lawyer clears his throat, standing at the front of the room. “Are we ready to begin?”
Brent stands. “I don’t know why you’re going through with this farce. That will be thrown out the minute I get hold of a judge.”
“Be that as it may, I’m required to read it.” The lawyer is unmoved. “Please take your seat.”
Brent scowls, but he slumps back into his seat.
The lawyer clears his throat, and lifts the first page. My heart races. I sit forwards, suddenly panicked. I grip Justine’s hand tight.
This is it.
“I, Charles Ashcroft, being of sound mind and judgment, do hereby state my last will and testament,” the lawyer starts to read. “This will voids all previous documents, and is a legal and binding document.”
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