Escorting the Groom (The Escort Collection 4)

"That holier-than-thou routine. You think you're the only one who cares about Mom. You think I'm a lazy, no-good fiancé-stealer. And you're prettier than me—not that you think you're prettier than me; you just are prettier than me. People like you better than me. It's annoying. It's tired. And now you're married to a hot billionaire, and it's not fair." She sounded like a petulant teenager about to have a temper tantrum at the mall. "Mom didn't tell me anything, but I know you married him as a job. I just know it. So, you cough up the cash, or I'm going to cause you a world of hurt."

I looked at her defiantly. "No."

"What did you just say?"

"I just said no. You're not getting a dime from my hot billionaire husband. Go ask your sloppy seconds of an ex for money."

Chelsea pointed her finger at me. "You're going to regret this."

"Not as much as I'd regret funding your lifestyle and unleashing you on a bunch of poor, unsuspecting bachelors."

She picked up her fork and started eating her expensive lunch, her eyes never leaving mine. "We'll see about that."

Chapter Nineteen

Lucas

"What are you saying exactly?"

Blake looked at me miserably. "I'm saying that my sister's trying to blackmail me by outing me as an escort to I don't know who—your family, the press, anyone who'll listen."

"This is your sister who stole your fiancé?"

Blake looked pale. "The one and only."

My heart ached for her. "She makes Serena look good. Not an easy task."

"I know." She sank down on the couch. "I shouldn't have taken this job. I know my sister, what she's capable of. She was born to blackmail me in a situation like this. I'm so sorry." Her voice was wobbly.

Christ. Since my lunch with Serena, I'd been trying to keep Blake at a distance, except when I was plundering her with my dick. But I couldn't bear to see her hurting. I sat down and pulled her into my arms. "We'll deal with your sister. Don't even worry about it."

Blake was stiff against me, taking no comfort in the embrace. "I don't want to give her anything."

I ran my hands down her hair. "You don't have to. I'll take care of it."

She pulled back, eyes flashing. All traces of forthcoming tears had vanished. "Lucas Ford, don't you dare!"

I blinked at her. No one had said "don't you dare" to me since my mother had caught me sneaking the gin out of the liquor cabinet when I was sixteen years old. "I don't understand why you're upset. I'm offering to make the problem go away."

"She's not just a problem—she's my sister, and she's a pain in the ass!" Blake's face now had two hectic spots of color on it. "If you give in to her, you'll never get rid of her. This tuition and her wannabe-New-York-City-socialite lifestyle are just the tip of the iceberg."

"There's no reason to let her upset you."

Blake threw up her hands. "There's every reason in the world for her to upset me! She's a scheming, money-grubbing, lazy you-know-what that rhymes with blunt!"

"So let me take care of it like I'm offering to." I tried to keep my voice gentle, but I was becoming annoyed. This was something I could fix. Even though Blake’s sister didn't deserve anything, it was better to throw some money at the problem and keep her the hell away from my wife.

Blake stood up. "You can't just 'take care of it.' First of all, Chelsea's not an 'it'; she's a person! And you have to deal with people! You can't just throw money at everything all the time and then swagger back to your ivory tower, acting like you've solved the world's problems!"

I sat back. "I don't act like that."

She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. "You bought a wife. So that you could keep your sister from inheriting your entire family fortune, in order to give money to worthy charities and to piss her off in the meantime. And now you want to pay off my sister to make her go away, so that I don't have to be bothered by her. Are you seeing a pattern here?"

"No." I could hear the defensiveness in my voice.

"You would rather deal with dollars than people."

I got up and headed for the bourbon. "I don't see why you have to make it sound like a negative personality trait."