Filthy Rich

by Raine Miller

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  My first thank-you goes out to Ruth and Jan for their helpful push. This journey would never have happened if not for your encouragement. You both are an incredible inspiration to me in this business. To my agent, Jane Dystel . . . I am continually amazed at the things you can accomplish . . . and ever grateful for it. Thank you for always having my back. To my editor, Maria Gomez at Montlake Romance, thank you for taking me on and supporting me at every turn. To Luna and Franzi, who read every page of this manuscript as it was born, falling in love with the story, and begging me for the next chapter. I don’t think I can ever express what that meant to me, especially at a time when I was struggling with so much doubt. You believed in me. To Darren, for reading faithfully, even though romance books are not your thing. You never complain, and your input is invaluable. I love that we can work this gig together. To Marion, for helping me to make it through that last leg of the book race—to its polished and complete end. You are always a joy to work with. Big love and immense appreciation to the ladies of Raine Miller Romance Readers for bringing daily inspiration to so many people, and for your love and support not just for my books, but for me personally. You are the ones who keep me tapping away at my keyboard—don’t ever forget that! Thank you, thank you, thank you. I can’t ever say it enough times.

  xxoo R

  READ ON FOR AN EXCERPT FROM

  FILTHY LIES

  A BLACKSTONE DYNASTY NOVEL

  BY RAINE MILLER

  AVAILABLE FEBRUARY 2017

  Editor’s Note: This is an early excerpt and may not reflect the finished book.

  PROLOGUE

  Winter

  The day I turned fifteen years old I knew I loved James Blakney. There was a look in his eye that told me he’d finally noticed I existed in a realm beyond best-friend’s-much-younger-off-limits-don’t-even-think-about-it-little-sister. Call it womanly intuition, despite the fact I was barely qualified for being an actual woman at just fifteen—and only in the biological sense—but still, I knew my own feelings.

  I shared those feelings with no one.

  James came to my birthday that year. To the gathering at Blackwater on the island where my family summered and vacationed as often as my father could convince my mother to spend time at the old estate perched on the coast. We were in the pool playing chicken fight when it happened. Wyatt was carrying me on his shoulders while Lucas carried Janice Thorndike and the two of us squared off. Janice was one of those people we were forced to tolerate because our parents were close. She was a manipulative attention whore most of the time, and it being my birthday didn’t change that fact for her one iota. Why she would go out of her way to humiliate someone who was much younger than her—and during their birthday celebration no less—was beyond me.

  But she did.

  Janice yanked on the tie at my neck that held up my bikini top and announced to all within shouting distance to have a look at my tits when it fell down. I was mortified to the depths of my soul as I frantically tried to cover back up after jumping from Wyatt’s shoulders down into the water. Awkwardly struggling with my chest submerged, I turned away from everyone and pulled myself together as best I could through hot tears. I think my brothers were either too freaked out or oblivious to what had just happened because neither said anything to me as I made for the edge of the pool to leave. Maybe they figured I didn’t want any more attention drawn to myself—which I most certainly didn’t—but a little compassion would have been nice, too. Brothers can be stupidly dense.

  James met me at the steps with a towel and told me Janice was a jealous bitch who wished she looked as good as I did without her bikini top.

  “You saw?” I asked him on a sob.

  His striking greeny-brown eyes burned right into me before he answered. “You have nothing to be ashamed of, Winter, and you didn’t do anything wrong. You can’t help that you’re beautiful and sweet.” The way he looked at me told me we’d moved beyond our big-brother/little-sister type of relationship in that moment. It wasn’t him being pervy with me, either. It was simply James being my champion when I desperately needed one.

  “Thank you,” I mumbled, still mortified that he’d seen my naked boobs, but strangely aware the incident had given me the gift of James Blakney’s attention at the same time.

  “Don’t let this ruin your special day, Win. You are perfectly lovely in every way,” he said before grinning at me in a way that could only be described as a little bit wicked. My skin pebbled along with my nipples as I stood there like a mute. James winked as he took a swig of the Sam Adams he held before going back over to his group of friends on the grass as if nothing had ever happened.

  And just like that I fell in love with him.

  Not even my twin sister, Willow, was privy to the innermost secrets of my heart in regards to James Blakney. In my dreams he was mine alone, and I didn’t have to share him with anyone else. Or be humiliated because I’d set my sights far too high on a man who could never possibly be interested in a young girl like me. And that right there was the division between us. James was a man at twenty-three, and I was merely a young girl at fifteen. Those eight years spanning between us was gargantuan—far too great of a distance to cross.

  Then.

  But I’ve always known him. James has been around and in my life for as long as I can remember. He met my oldest brother, Caleb, at St. Damien’s when they were ten years old, and they’ve been friends ever since. I was two then. Willow and I went to St. Damien’s eight years later when it was our turn to be shipped off to boarding school—and our twin brothers, Wyatt and Lucas, were sent off five years before us. In the Blackstone family, children were always schooled away from home, because it built character and toughened them up for the real world. Even though the “real world” was so far removed from our lifestyle it was laughable. Things like twenty-year-old mothers who worked the streets so her children could have food and a place to sleep; or homeless vets struggling with wartime PTSD manifested in drug abuse and suicide were the real world.

  But those types of things weren’t the “real world” examples my parents were referring to.

  Boarding school was just one of the many requirements that came with the territory of growing up rich. James understood completely, because he was raised in much the same way. The Blakneys owned a beach retreat on Blackstone Island not far from my family’s ancestral estate, Blackwater, and so our lives had been spent at the same gatherings and social functions for as long as we both could remember.

  As the years went along I loved James from afar, watching him grow more serious . . . and more cynical. I think his fiancé dumping him at the altar five years ago to run away with a senior partner in his father’s law firm had a lot to do with the change in his personality. Leah Allison turned out to be a money-hungry bitch who’d left a trail of destruction in her wake. She broke my James’s heart. And she did it publicly in a way that was cruel and unnecessary, and on the very day they were to be married. With the guests already arriving at the church! I’ll never forget the look on James’s face when Caleb led him out of there.

  Crushed.

  I didn’t know all of the reasons for his devastation at the time. It was more than just Leah leaving him hanging at the altar. It was worse than that, I would discover in time.

  I couldn’t have known all of the machinations that went on behind the scenes in our world when I was barely eighteen years old, but I’d learned enough to get an idea that a lot of it wasn’t nice.

  Despicable was a much better adjective.

  James had been twenty-six when he found out there were lots of secret deals and plenty of depravity in plain sight if you knew where to look.

  I think that discovery was part of my interest in choosing to study Social Work at Boston University. I wanted to live my life differently than the people in my “social” circle. I didn’t desire to be impoverished, but I didn’t desire to waste my money on frivolous excess, either. I wanted to use
it to help make a difference for people who desperately needed someone to care, and had no one.

  No one at all.

  After his wedding-that-didn’t-happen, I’d heard that James had promptly started drinking and stayed drunk for about a week before pulling himself back together. With fierce resolve to overcome the betrayal of those who’d done him wrong, a mask descended over his handsome face. James lost his carefree manner and the easy smile he’d always had for others, and most importantly, for me. He became more closed off and far less engaging in person after Leah worked him over. The change in him was permanent.

  I missed the old James terribly at first, but I didn’t have a great many encounters with him during the years I was an undergrad at BU. I was busy being a student, and James was busy separating himself from his father’s firm. There was some drama over that decision at the time. I remember my parents discussing it, but in the end James made his own stamp in the legal community, establishing himself as the go-to guy for contract law in New England. James R. Blakney & Associates, P.C. was retained by my dad for Blackstone Global Enterprises as soon as James had set up on his own. Nothing had changed now that Caleb was the one heading up BGE since Dad’s death. In fact, James probated his will—a complicated undertaking for anyone faced with settling the billion-dollar personal fortune our father left to us—and he handled it all without a blip. On top of being a close family friend, James knew the conditions of my trust fund. He knew what would have to happen in order for me to gain access to it before my thirtieth birthday, too. He was the one who explained it to me and my sister at the reading of the will. Lucas and Wyatt weren’t at issue because they were already sitting only a year out from thirty when Dad passed away.

  It would be fair to say I hate Leah. Not so much for being with James in the first place, but for wounding him and leaving him a changed man. For that reason alone she is on my unforgivable sinners list. But I’ve also done something to hurt James. Something that could make him hate me, even though it would kill me inside if he did.

  I stole from him.

  I took advantage of James in a weak moment. I knew it was wrong, and yet I didn’t care when I was crossing over a dangerous line with him. I indulged nearly a decade’s worth of craving to experience the magic of being loved by James Blakney. Loved? Probably more like fucked. But it was done in a loving way so I did not care. Carelessness indeed. I knew the risks and took my chances anyway.

  Still, it was so very wrong of me to let it happen, because the circumstances were too close to how he’d been betrayed by Leah. My betrayal is even worse because the effects will be passed along onto others.

  And now?

  I’ll have to face up to the consequences of what I’ve done.

  To James.

  To us.

  To our unborn child.

  ONE

  James

  Three Months Earlier

  Boston

  One reason and one reason only could be responsible for my presence at my father’s law office today. That reason was the woman who gave birth to me. My mother had asked me to see him, and so I agreed, even though I’d rather take a swim in the Charles River. The fact that I would prefer immersing myself into a polluted-as-fuck body of water over meeting with my dad spoke volumes.

  The truth? I love my mother . . . but I honestly couldn’t say the same about my father. Harsh as it was to acknowledge, my pragmatism told me I wasn’t the first son to feel this way about a parent. History was filled with examples.

  I dreaded this meeting with him because I knew whatever message he wanted to deliver to me personally wasn’t anything I would want to hear. Nothing he ever imparted was good news, but this felt like walking into an ambush. To say we had a stiff relationship was a polite way of describing it. I kept myself guarded because I had to. Having your father sitting on the First Circuit Court of Appeals would probably do it for most people. The fact I practiced law in the same city required the appearance of family solidarity even if there was none. I had a fuck-ton of valid reasons for feeling the way I did.

  So, guarded it would be. Even though I’d been in his company at family dinners and holiday occasions, I hadn’t been here in his office since the day I’d left it five years ago. The feelings of anger and disgust simmered just below the surface where I’d forced them to stay. After this I’d need a release to bring me back down to level. I knew where I’d be heading tonight. Annnnnd wasn’t the irony just fucking beautiful considering where I was right now?

  “He’s ready for you now, James.” Patricia’s smile held a touch of sympathy. She probably knew the reason for my summons. My father, the judge, only hired the best, and every lawyer with half a brain understood a smooth running office existed in direct correlation to the skills of his or her legal secretary.

  “Thanks. Oh, before I forget, tell your son to get in touch with Marguerite at my offices if he’s interested in an internship.” Patricia’s oldest son was a first year law student at Suffolk and probably a smart kid if he was anything like his mom.

  “Oh, that’s so kind. I know Chase will jump at the opportunity, James.” She smiled her genuine thanks before leading me into my father’s inner sanctum.

  He tracked me with his eyes as I entered the room. I had to work fucking hard to keep a lid on my emotions and stand there impassively. I was on enemy turf for as long as this meeting lasted. I thought of my mother and that helped to keep my feet planted, otherwise I’d be out the door and down on the street where I could breathe again.

  “Sit down, son.”

  I settled into one of his soft leather chairs and leaned back with an expression of relaxed comfort. An acting performance that should probably earn me an Academy Award because it really felt like I was being ass-fucked on a bed of jagged nails. I probably was about to be but just didn’t know it yet.

  “Thank you for coming today. I realize your mother had to persuade you.”

  I kept my eyes forward and ignored the calculated barb. “How is Mom?” I deflected.

  “Your mother is very well as she always is.” It was probably a lie, but I’d learned long ago my parent’s relationship was not my battle to fight. “The reason I’ve asked you for a private meeting is to share my news. You need to know what’s coming.”

  I stared back and said nothing. There wasn’t a thing on earth that could’ve compelled me to ask him for the information. I was unable to pretend that much with my father. All of my energy was taken up just by my presence here in the first place. I knew my silent disinterest rankled him. And I fucking loved that it did.

  “Ted Robinson’s recent cancer diagnosis has ended his political career.”

  “You know what they say about karma,” I answered. All I could envision in my head was the darkly beautiful goddess that was Karma swooping in for her well-deserved dues, because Ted Robinson shared space on the same list with my dad. Cut from exactly the same cloth. “Besides, he has Mrs. Robinson to care for his every need now so he can certainly take some comfort in that.”

  Bitch, please.

  The idea of Leah nursing her sick husband back to health was so outrageous even I had to call bullshit on my own inner monologue. Robinson would abso-fucking-lutely have private in-home nursing care, because his adoring wife certainly couldn’t soil her hands cleaning up his piss and puke.

  “It’s time to let go of whatever happened in the past, James. It’s done. Move on to the new.”

  Let go of whatever happened in the past?

  My jaw twitched involuntarily, probably from how hard I was gritting my teeth. I had moved on to the new, as he put it. What the fuck did he think that was five years ago when I severed ties with this law firm and started my own? James R. Blakney & Associates, P.C. was something pretty fucking new. I shrugged and shook my head slowly. “So what, you’re running for public office now?”

  “I’ve been approached by the party, yes.” He unclasped his hands and placed both palms down onto his desk. “I will accept thei
r invitation to throw my hat into the proverbial ring. I have every intention of representing Massachusetts in the US Senate one year from now.”

  Of course you do.

  I figured this day would come in time. My father’s ego pretty much predestined a political career at some point. “Congratulations,” I managed to grind out.

  “The senate is just the first step in the overarching plan though.”

  “Overarching plan?” I loathed when he spoke in riddles like he was doing right now. So arrogantly smug in his passive aggressiveness it grated on my already stretched patience.

  “Yes. The senate campaign announcement will come early January when everyone is breathing a collective sigh of relief the presidential race debacle has finally been put to bed—try to deflect some of the negative into a positive. Four years isn’t a horribly long time to have to wait for a candidate they can really get behind and safely propel into the White House.”

  Whoa. Was he saying what I thought he was saying? “You’re serious.”

  “Deadly serious.”

  “You’re going to run for President of the United States.” I didn’t pose it as a question. I blinked at him, hoping to wake up from a really bad fucking dream—unable to accept the idea, grasping at straws of denial instead. “But aren’t you getting ahead of things? The White House is a long way from a judgeship on the First Circuit.”

  He stone-faced me, taking me straight back to when I was a kid and about to get served my punishment for some irrationally perceived infraction. There were a lot of those moments in my childhood to draw from. A flicker of fear crept inside my heart.

  “I-I m-mean, you have to w-win the senate seat before you can declare a run for P-President in four years.” I wanted to cut out my tongue for stammering and showing my weakness in front of him.

  “The senate race won’t be even a small problem. It’s already done. All I need to make it stick is the cooperation of my beloved family.” His lip curled up on one side in a definite tell of distaste as he spoke the last word. Jesus Christ, he must hate us all.