Filthy Rich (Blackstone Dynasty 1)

Oh, for the next hour or so I put on a good show and kept schmoozing with people I hardly paid attention to, so I could watch her walk around the room, serving meatballs in her tight skirt and fuck-me boots. I even managed to paint an image of her wearing nothing but those boots in my head. My thoughts were downright filthy, to the point my cock wanted in on the action.

Badly.

This wasn’t happening to me in a roomful of business associates. My dick was not getting hard from watching a pretty girl offer up food.

Yes, it was.

I also figured out I wasn’t the only one looking at her, and those boots weren’t exactly helping her fade into the background at an event like this one, made up of mostly men thinking about sex once every fifty-two seconds. Seeing her, it was impossible to think about much of anything else.

“I’d take my time tapping that tight ass nice and slow—with the fucking boots on.”

Kevin Aldrich was a dipshit investment banker with a receding hairline, an expanding waistline, and a big trust fund inherited from his old-money grandfather. He also had a wife, two or three teenage kids, and a drinking problem. The sad truth was he probably did get beautiful women like her to fuck him because he had the money to help them get over the fact he was a complete and total douchebag.

I said nothing, but I felt my blood start to boil. In that instant I truly understood the meaning behind the expression “it made my blood boil.” Mine was going nuclear.

Aldrich lifted his drink and all but drooled in her direction to call her over. She noticed him and came forward with her tray of what I knew were individual shrimp cocktails. I’d not make the same mistake again.

“Shrimp cocktail strike your fancy, gentlemen?” she asked pleasantly.

“You strike my fancy, Sexy Boots,” Aldrich said with an obvious leer. Okay, the guy was worse than a disgusting douche. He was a moron with the social skills of a cockroach.

“Clever. I’ve only heard that fourteen other times in the last hour and a half,” she said smoothly. “Can I offer you a shrimp cocktail?” she repeated, clearly not amused and her golden eyes showing it.

Aldrich was either too drunk or too stupid to catch the clues, however. “How about your number instead? I’ll take you somewhere where we can eat all the shrimp we want.” He flicked his tongue at her, and I just about lost my shit. Forget my boiling blood, I wanted to kill him.

“No fucking way, Aldrich, you did not just do that!”

He did two more really stupid things nearly simultaneously. He reached his arm around to drag her body against his and said to me, “Don’t cock-block me and Sexy Boots here. We’re just getting acquainted, and she looks like she can use a long slow ride in those b—”

Aldrich didn’t finish his sentence however, because he received an immediate and skilled defense move of an elbow to the front of the nose. Her elbow. His nose. Too bad I tried to get in there first and push him off her. The back of his bulbous head caught me on the chin and he went down hard, taking me with him, along with tiny glasses of cocktail sauce and airborne pink shrimp that sprayed out in an arc, catching anyone within a ten-foot radius.

Silence ensued as all conversations ceased and focused their attentions on us.

“You fucking cunt! You broke my nose,” Aldrich bellowed from behind the hand trying to stem the gushing blood pouring from his mean little face.

“You put your hands on me. Nobody does that and gets away with it anymore,” she told him in a steely voice before bolting off in the direction of the kitchen.

“Get the fuck off me, Aldrich!” I shoved him away and got to my feet. “Stupid goddamn shit you just pulled, man. Very goddamn stupid,” I said as I removed a lone shrimp stuck to my jacket by its tail.

“But she assaulted me. You saw it happen, Blackstone,” he yelled. “I will sue that bitch for damages, the fucking whore!”

I grabbed him by the collar and dragged him right up to my face. “You will do nothing of the kind or you’ll live to regret it. Go home to your wife and family if they’ll even have you at this point.”

“Fuck you, Blackstone.” But it came out sounding more like, “fung gew, Blaxsdone,” on account of his broken nose. Lost a lot of its impact that way, too. Arrogant asshole.

“And make sure you take a cab to protect the populous of the city from yourself,” I added. “You’re too fucking drunk to stand right now, let alone drive anywhere.” Then I let go of him and watched as he fell back down to sprawl on the floor, soaked in his own blood and a shitload of shrimp cocktail.

I found her having it out with her boss in the

kitchen.

“Why in the hell did you hit him?”

“Sexual assault is against the law, you idiot. Why in the hell did you put me in this situation tonight, Martin, and then abandon me to that pack of dogs out there? Hmm? Do you have any idea what I’ve had to put up with tonight?”

Ouch. I dearly hoped she didn’t lump me in the same category as the rest of the dogs in the room tonight.

She reached into the front pocket of the red apron wrapped around her hips and pulled out a handful of business cards and tossed them at her boss. “That’s how many of the dogs want to get to know me better and show me a banging good time, emphasis on the bang! I shouldn’t have to deal with that sort of thing when I am trying to do a job.” Jesus Christ, she’s right.