“You’re not throwing your life away for me,” he says, closing the space between us. Wilder stands before me until our chests nearly touch, and the warmth of his whiskey breath caresses my face. He tilts my chin up with his knuckle before cradling it between his thumb and forefinger. “You’re better than all of us, Camilla. And I won’t be the one who makes you stay.”
“Lydia said I can stay,” I shoot back. “She gave me a choice.”
With a swift shake of his head, he says, “That wasn’t supposed to happen. She was supposed to make you go. But it seems that she has a fucking heart after all.”
“Is that why you left?” I ask, pulling my face free from his caress. “So you didn’t have to look me in the eye before I was sent away? Where would I go?”
“Anywhere you want.”
I laugh out loud as tears fall from my eyes. “How do you think I got here, Wilder? Luck? The charity of others? Think about it. How does an eighteen-year-old girl with nothing but a backpack full of candles get across the entire country alone? I used my body, and it wasn’t hard. Men came to me, and for the price of a bus ticket, a hot meal, or a place to stay for a while, I made my way to Grand Haven. Even with my dad’s voice always in the back of my head, I did what I had to do.You’re wicked, Camilla. I was right all along, Camilla. You’re a disgrace. You’re forsaken.You’re no daughter of mine.”I sob, dropping my face into my hands as the night I left home rushes back like a flashflood. Sucking in a large breath, I look up and say, “Hush gave me structure, but I’m not doing anything new. Lydia hasn’t ruined my life. She’s only taught me how to hustle.”
“Come here,” Wilder says. I’m helpless against the wave of grief that washes over me, and I fall willingly into his arms. He’s like a fresh towel out of the dryer or cool sheets after a long day. Wilder is like a summer evening, when the sun shines halfway between this side of the world and the other. He smells like amber and vanilla skies, and he feels like fate. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
When my tears dry up, we go back inside. I drink coffee instead of champagne, but I still fall asleep curled up on the couch with my head in Lydia’s lap. She runs her fingers through my hair, as David tells stories about the dead. He remembers Inez, and he misses his wife.
“They were friends, you know,” he says, trailing off. “Everything changed after Gino passed, but I remember Inez clearly.”
Sometime later, while I loom along the blurred fringes of awareness and sleep, Wilder asks, “What happened? I thought we were going to protect her.”
“It’s a blessing Cricket never had more children,” Lydia says like a dream. Her fingers trail from my temples through the length of my hair and back, snapping split ends and scratching my scalp. “I didn’t realize how badly I could have used a sister until she came along. Or how much I wanted one. We’ll protect her, Wilder. Or we’ll die trying. What is there to do? She wants to stay, and I want to keep her.”
John Michael Lucky III is as hungry for fresh pussy as Lydia said he was.
He shows up at the office Wednesday afternoon after he caught the red-eye from New York to San Francisco the night before. Followed in by an entourage consisting of only men who carry matching briefcases, John Michael is bloated with self-importance. He bypasses Sonya at the receptionist desk and heads straight to David’s office like he owns the place, ignoring Sonya’s attempt to wrangle him back.
“Sir.” She stands behind her computer. “Sir, please.”
He doesn’t own any stake in Ridge & Sons, but according to Lydia, he’s a major player in their success. It’s imperative this visit goes well.
Therefore, as much as it bruises Lydia’s ego, she’s playing the part of the sexy secretary.
“Mr. Lucky,” she calls out, striding through the hallway from her office to David’s. I follow quickly behind her, signaling to Sonya that we’ll take it from here. “Mr. Lucky, please, I’ve been expecting you.”
The gray-haired man halts at the sound of his name, and the hard expression on his face lessens as he turns to find Lydia approaching. He’s shameless, peeping the size of her chest before his cool blue eyes scan the length of her legs, admiring how they end in an impossibly high pair of heels. Once he notices me standing a foot behind her, the man goes from strictly business to strictly perverted.
He’s not here to talk numbers.
He came to play.
“Lydia Montgomery.” She shakes Mr. Lucky’s hand and then puts some respect on her name. “I’m the Ridges’ office manager, and this is my assistant, Megan Rice.”
“Very, very nice to make your acquaintance.” His hands are cold and have the texture of tissue paper. I’d bet a week’s pay that his cock is small. Men with small penises tend to overcompensate, and John Michael reeks of greed. “Such lovely ladies. Tell me, how did these dirty scoundrels manage to snag such beautiful help?”
Lydia left her people-pleasing days behind when she stopped sleeping with men for money and started to manage the girls who do instead, but bad habits die hard. “LinkedIn,” she says sarcastically, but she laughs when Lucky’s smile falters.
He doesn’t appreciate a woman with a smart mouth.
“So, where are they?” John Michael asks, bouncing on the balls of his feet. His minions are little replicas of himself, moving as he moves, smiling when he smiles.
“Since we weren’t expecting you for another hour, they’re in Talent’s office finishing up a conference call.” Lydia heads toward the meeting room. The same room where Wilder promised to put a bullet in Luca Coppola’s head. She waves them over and says, “I’ll get you set up in here, and they’ll be out in no time at all.”
“Ladies first.” He motions for me to walk ahead of him, and I put extra sway in my hips because he’s predictable at best.
He barely keeps his hands to himself as Lydia and I rush around, fussing over him and his companions. I’ve dealt with some peculiar men during my time with Hush. I’ve yet to meet a sexual kink that offends me as much as John Michael only wanting three cubes of square ice in exactly seven ounces of water.
“Sensitive teeth,” he says, unabashedly staring at my tits. “Be a doll and make sure the water is triple filtered.”
Not long after everyone is watered and made comfortable, the Ridges emerge from Talent’s office. Wilder and I remain at an impasse, lurking amongst pleasant interactions between friends to racing heartbeats and nearly crossing lines. Just this morning we crossed paths at the elevator. I arrived as he left, and we shared knowing smiles and brushed our fingers together.
