The Rich Boy

by Scott, Kylie

He draws my leg back over his, making room for him to slip his cock into me. Sex on your side first thing in the morning is a hell of a hello. He angles his hips, pushing in deeper. Deeper than I thought he could go. His hand is back at my breast, thumb rubbing back and forth over my hard nipple.

  “Just making up for lost time,” he says, voice rough and low.

  “That’s what you said at three.” I happy sigh as he draws back, before pushing back in again. Adding a little roll of his hips for good luck and good times. “And then again at six.”

  “It’s just after nine now, beloved. Time for your breakfast fuck.”

  “We should have pancakes.” I gasp as he hits a particularly wonderful spot deep inside of me.

  “Excellent idea.”

  Then there’s no more talking, because the man is fucking me into oblivion.

  I add some more bacon and another pancake to my plate before heading back to the dining table. The same table where Beck is lounging back in his seat watching me with a coffee in hand. A leisurely breakfast after a big night is a beautiful thing.

  “What?” I ask with a smile.

  “You’re walking funny.”

  “I am not. Shut up,” I hiss. “And if I am, whose damn fault might that be?”

  “I recommend icing followed by a relaxing tongue massage.”

  “Keep your body parts to yourself for a while, Beck. I need a break.” I wave my fork at him in a vaguely threatening manner. Then I check that Mrs. Francis hasn’t wandered back into the room. Because it’s all fun and games until the housekeeper hears you talking about sex.

  Beck smirks. Bastard.

  “And get that look off your face.”

  “What look?”

  “That self-satisfied smirk you’re wearing.”

  Princess dashes out from underneath a couch to hide beneath my chair. I tear her off a small piece of bacon and drop it on the ground. She picks up the food and is gone again.

  “That’s spoiling her,” says Beck, taking a sip of coffee. “You’re teaching our firstborn bad habits.”

  “No, I’m buying her love. It’s a different thing entirely.”

  “Babies, both fur and skin, need these things to be stated in plain language.” Beck turns in his chair. “Princess, we love you.”

  From underneath the couch, the cat hisses.

  “Do you think she should have her own Instagram account?” asks Beck.

  “No.”

  “Okay. Want to go back to bed after breakfast?” he asks, all innocent like.

  “No. Again.” I laugh. “I’m serious. I need a break.”

  “I meant to nap and watch movies.”

  “You did not. Besides which, we have a media room we haven’t even used yet for that.” I load up my fork with the perfect ratio of maple syrup-soaked pancake to bacon. “Keep it in your pants until I say otherwise, thank you.”

  “It’s like you don’t care about my large penis at all,” he says with a sniff.

  “I’m not dignifying that with a response.”

  “But you don’t deny it!”

  “The lack of care or the size?”

  “Both,” he says, faking so much indignation. The clown.

  It’s hard to keep the smile off my face. “Of course I care and as for the second I can only assume you’re fishing for compliments.”

  His tongue plays behind his cheek. Guess he’s having a hard time keeping a straight face too.

  “But yes, it’s very large,” I admit.

  He punches the sky in victory. “Thank you, dearest. And just so you know, your cunt is world-class.”

  “Thanks. Are you really taking the day off?” I put the food in my mouth. Mrs. Francis really knows her way around a griddle and I respect her skills heartily.

  “Yes,” he says. “We’re having a date day.”

  I finish chewing. So much yum. “What does this date day entail, exactly?”

  He sighs and stares out into the garden. Outside is all gray skies and autumn colors. A no doubt cold wind blows the remaining leaves from the bushes and potted topiary trees. “Last night was a big one in all the ways. So I’m thinking we get food delivered, binge a TV show…things like that.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Which of course is when his cell goes off. He picks it up with a frown, finger moving across the screen. “Shit,” he mumbles.

  “What?”

  “I’m needed in at Elliot Corp.” He frowns. “Emma’s on her emergency second honeymoon in Paris and Grandma’s laid up with a headache. Ethan needs me to go in and sit in on a meeting. Be the second signatory on a contract. It shouldn’t take long. I’m sorry, beloved.”

  “It’s fine,” I say. Something that turns out to be the biggest lie of all.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “Mrs. Elliot.”

  Catherine looks around the library with a we-are-not-amused type of expression. Lips a fine line and gaze cranky. The Queen of England couldn’t beat her for attitude. She’s in a white Chanel suit with low matching pumps. You couldn’t ask for better armor to intimidate your opponent. Especially since I’m in jeans, white T-shirt bodysuit, and the blue Louboutin flats. None of them are up to defending me against Beck’s grandmother when she’s in a mood and wearing haute couture and a frown.

  I give Mrs. Francis a nod and she backs out of the room, closing the door behind her. But not before I spy Winston waiting outside. Neither of us is smiling. Catherine sure has a way of setting a room at unease.

  Since Beck had to work I figured I might as well also. The latest website from Matías is finished and I’ve identified a local newspaper doing solid journalism and a food bank who could both use donations from the foundation. It feels good, spreading the money around. God knows my boyfriend doesn’t need it all.

  “Beck isn’t here right now,” I say, standing at the desk.

  “I know.”

  I just wait. Whatever her game is, I’m not playing.

  With all due elegance, she perches on the chaise longue. Unlike the office at her place, there’s no real throne-like chair here for her to rule from. Sucks to be her. “An interesting choice of home.”

  “We like it.”

  “All of the noise and filth of the city right outside your doors. I daresay you do.”

  Ouch. I retake my seat because keeping the desk between us seems wise. The woman might be elderly, but she’s also nasty. She looks down her nose at me and I just want her the hell gone. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Elliot?”

  “You and my grandson looked very cozy last night.”

  Again I say nothing.

  Her jaw shifts. In anger or frustration perhaps, I don’t know. “Alice, you’ve had your fun. It’s time for you to go. I had hoped Rachel would see to getting rid of you, by money or might, but that wasn’t the case. She’s always had a weak spot for Beck. I should have known better than to entrust the task to her.”

  I take a sip of water for my dry throat. Conflict always sets me on edge. “Did you really expect Rachel and me to arm wrestle it out or something?”

  “I expected her to see to the family interests in this delicate time so soon after my son’s death.” Her nose goes higher in the air. Much more and she’ll give herself a nosebleed. “Not support Beck in his endeavors to make you palatable. As if a makeover and some decent clothes could fix the problem. Let alone his having Matías offer you a job.”

  “Beck didn’t ask Matías to—”

  “Of course he did,” she says, voice cold as ice. “He couldn’t have you serving beers to drunkards in some dive. A waitress…how ridiculous. I’m surprised there aren’t peanut shells on the floor in here to make you feel more at home.”

  I frown and keep my mouth shut.

  “Did you truly think you’d been given the job on your own merit? How laughable. You with neither experience nor a clue. Of course, Matías has always been hostile and treacherous when it came to the family. The perfect example of why not to marry outside one’s cl
ass.” She smiles and it’s a cunning, malicious thing. “Beck forgot that people talk. They listen and look for an ear to whisper in.”

  “You spoke to Selah at the party,” I say, and it all makes sense. How many conversations have Emma and Rachel had in front of the woman, not suspecting what she might do with the information? Broken hearts and dreams can turn to rage and cruelty so easily. To think I’d almost felt sorry for the bitch.

  Catherine continues on, “It’s amusing when you think about it. He detested Selah for wanting his wealth and power. Yet he used the same damn lures to draw you in, to attach you as securely as he could to him and this place. A job to keep you busy and make you feel important. A charity foundation to ingratiate you into his social circle. All of the clothes and jewelry and the car to make you hunger for more and more.”

  “That’s not true. The clothes were from Rachel. And the jewelry. They were her doing.”

  “Where do you think the money came from? The authority to buy it all? From me? From Ethan?” She scoffs. “Don’t be a child.”

  I can only stare.

  “Not that I imagine it took much to reel you in. He had you hooked the moment you set foot onto the private jet.”

  It doesn’t make sense. Except it does. Beck’s been lying about so much. So many big and little things both.

  “And Beck never had any interest in establishing a charity foundation until you came along. I love my grandson, but he’s always been a soft touch.” She pauses for effect. “Writing checks for anyone who puts their hand out. No, it was all to prop you up. I’d imagine he told you otherwise when it came to that too.”

  She’s right. Not that I’m about to admit it.

  “So here’s what we’re going to do,” she announces, hands clasped together over the top of her walking stick. “You’re going to take what you’ve been given and go back to California where you belong. The contract you signed will ensure you’re well recompensed for your trouble. You will not contact my grandson ever again.”

  Beneath the desk, my hands are shaking. “And if I don’t?”

  “Why would you want to stay? He’s lied to you and controlled you from the first moment you met. He won’t change, because it’s in his blood. It’s all he knows.”

  I glare at her and repeat myself through gritted teeth. “And if I don’t?”

  “You seem to care for him, despite knowing the truth. Hardly a surprise. That’s the point of control, after all. That’s why he does it. Why we all do.” She smiles grimly. “So let’s test that affection, shall we?”

  “What are you going to do, Catherine?”

  “First, I’ll ensure he’s voted off the board of Elliot Corp. I love my grandson, but I won’t tolerate disloyalty or any further poor choices from him at this time.” Her rheumy gaze narrows. “Secondly, his new enterprise, this chain of boutique hotels he’s so keen on establishing. I’ll ensure he’s outbid every time.”

  I snort. She has a fucked-up way of looking at the world. Of loving people.

  “Thirdly, he’ll no longer be welcome in Denver society if you’re by his side. Do not underestimate my influence here.”

  “You don’t know him at all,” I whisper.

  “What? What did you say?”

  “I said, you don’t know your grandson at all.” I sit back in the seat, forcing myself to relax. “He walked away from the company, the money, the power, all of it…and that scares the shit out of you, doesn’t it?”

  “Watch your language,” she hisses.

  “Why is it people like you always call for civility and niceness while behaving like absolute assholes? It’s phenomenal.” I shake my head. “Get out, Catherine. Go back to your castle and count your money. No wonder the only people who stand at your side have to be paid to be there.”

  Slowly, she rises to her feet. “He will tire of your vulgarity and scheming. Mark my words.”

  “Scheming? Me?” I laugh. “Wow.”

  “You are nothing but a leech to be broken beneath my foot.”

  I look to heaven, but there’s no help forthcoming. Not much of a surprise. “‘Are the shades of Pemberley to be thus polluted?’ Blah, blah, blah.”

  She screws up her wrinkled face. “What?”

  “Let me summarize.” I get to my feet and march to the door, throwing it open. “Get the fuck out!”

  “Beloved, why are you sitting in the dark?”

  A fitting metaphor for my state of being. I’m in the chair at the desk where I’ve been for hours. It’s not night yet. Not quite. Through the tall windows, the last of the gray evening light filters through, casting the room in long shadows. A half empty bottle of Downtown Gin and a fine collection of empty little tonic bottles surround me. Just like the ones you get in hotels. Classy.

  “Mrs. Francis said Grandma came calling. Are you okay?” Beck switches on a lamp, illuminating the library. He kneels next to my chair, so handsome in his black suit. It hurts to look. The cut of his cheekbones and the love in his eyes. How badly I want to touch him, to just be with him. But here we are, all fucked up.

  “You’ve been lying,” I say, voice dead of emotion. My eyes hurt from crying and my throat feels scraped raw. “Haven’t you?”

  His dark brows lower.

  “It wasn’t Rachel’s idea to take me shopping and shine me up. It was yours.”

  “Alice…”

  “And it wasn’t Matías’s idea to give me a job either,” I say. “You asked him to find me something. But I bet that’s not all. What else have you been lying about, Beck?”

  His jawline goes rigid. But he doesn’t deny it.

  “The watch and the diamonds and all of those things that just appeared in my wardrobe that you swore you had no idea about. No wonder Rachel looked confused when I asked her to stop. I’m so stupid.”

  “You’re not.” He wraps a hand around the armrest of the chair I’m sitting in. His knuckles stark white from the fervor of his grip. “Alice, listen to me, okay? Just listen. I wanted you to be happy here. That’s all.”

  “That’s all,” I agree. “But what else have you been lying about to achieve that aim, hmm?”

  He pauses, turning his face away. Every line of him is tense and stressed. “It wasn’t because I was ashamed of you or didn’t think you were enough.”

  Does it make it a lie if he won’t meet my eyes? Or is that my old insecurities creeping in? Hard to tell. I can’t imagine there have been many moments like this in his life. When he’s clearly in the wrong and being called on it. When lawyers couldn’t be called in or money won’t make it go away. I’m not sure his parents ever cared enough to censure him and no one else probably had the guts. He’s on his knees, but his broad shoulders shift agitatedly beneath his suit jacket. As if he’d like to rip it apart at the seams Hulk style and just start roaring.

  “Look at me and tell the truth,” I say, my smile false. “You wanted to hook me on the luxury lifestyle too. Throw me some diamonds to keep me pacified like your daddy used to do.”

  He stares at me from beneath his brows. So locked down. I can’t read him at all. His gaze is like a shut door. “That’s not true. I wasn’t trying to buy you.”

  “Bullshit,” I say. “Of course you were; it’s what you know. All of your good intentions, your search to find someone apart from this. Then you couldn’t help but drag me in too. And I fell for it. How long do you think it would have taken before you resented me the same as you do Selah?”

  “I wouldn’t—”

  “You would have. I’ve been sitting here for hours trying to figure out why you felt the need to lie, but it’s just what you know, isn’t it? It’s what you’ve seen and been taught. You spent six months wandering the wild lands away from all of this splendor and learned absolutely nothing.” And I sound bitter. So damn bitter. “Now tell me. What else did you lie about?”

  His nostrils flare like some pissed off bull. Confession clearly isn’t his thing. “It wasn’t Penny’s idea to make you head of the fo
undation, it was mine,” he admits. “I thought you’d be more open to it if you thought it came from someone else.”

  I nod, breathing hard.

  “The watch and those things like you said.”

  “Yes,” I say.

  “I didn’t find Princess on the street, I got her from a shelter.”

  “Why the hell would you even lie about that?” I scrunch up my nose. “Seriously, it’s insane. What’s wrong with you? Are you a compulsive liar or something? Can you not help yourself?”

  “I just wanted you to stay,” he shouts, the words taut like they’re being ripped out of him. “I thought the more reasons I gave you, then the greater likelihood that would happen.”

  “The jewelry wasn’t working as well as you’d hoped so you thought you’d try a pet. Holy hell.” I sag back in the chair. “Beck…”

  “They were just little things.”

  “Were they, though? Were they really?”

  He looks so lost, like a little boy. I kind of feel bad for him. For both of us.

  “I don’t think so. Because to me they were everything. They were what we were trying to build a relationship on.”

  My laughter is devoid of humor. “God, you’re such a hypocrite. You wanted to be so careful, take your time and build our foundations strong, and you were lying all along?”

  “I just wanted to give you reasons to stay.”

  “You were my reason. Just you. Don’t you get that?” I ask. “God, I am so fucking angry at you right now I can’t even think straight.”

  His grabs my arm, his grip bruisingly tight. “Alice, please.”

  “You’re hurting me. Let go.”

  Without a word, he does as asked. We both stare at the lingering red marks left by his fingers. He swears quietly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…I’m sorry.”

  “You should know, your grandma threatened to have you thrown off the board at Elliot Corp. if I stayed,” I report. “She also said she’d ensure you were outbid on any further hotels you tried to purchase and would be gasp horror unwelcome in Denver society. Just so you know…”

  A deep line sits between his brows. Like for a moment, he’s not even sure if he believes she could spew such poison.