Cruel Billionaire (Rich & Shameless #1) - Luma Rose Page 0,1

sister is not something I’d ever get over. She deserves better than them, better than us.

“You must not value your life,” Ryker says to Ford.

“It was just a joke. Jesus, try and find a sense of humor, Stone.”

I ignore him. I don’t want to talk about my sister. It’ll just result in him sprawled out on the pool table, and we just re-felted the fucker after Linc’s blood got on it during the last fight that got out of hand.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out again to see my dad’s name on the screen for the second time. I don’t even bother hitting ignore this time. Instead I just slide it back into my suit jacket and wait for it to finish ringing.

“How’s Dick the Prick?” Ford asks.

“How’d you know it was my dad?” I slug back the remaining contents in my cup.

“You always get that look on your face whenever it has something to do with your dad,” he says.

“What look?”

“Murderous,” Ryker says, leaning back into the chair.

“For good reason,” I say, and they nod in agreement. I don’t want to talk about my father any more than I wanted to talk about my sister, so I change the subject. “Where’s Asher and Lincoln?”

“Asher’s probably still passed out in bed,” Ryker grumbles. Ryker’s usually a where’s-the-party kind of guy. Hell, he initiates most of the parties, but over the past months, he’s made his displeasure about Asher’s excessive alcohol use abundantly clear. He’s turned into a sloppy drunk.

“What about Lincoln?” I stand and walk over to the kitchenette, placing my coffee cup in the sink.

“You can’t put it in the dishwasher and help Margaret out?” Ford eyes the cup in the sink.

“I guess I thought that’s what her paycheck was for.” I leave the mug where it is on principle. Margaret is a concierge, housekeeper, and doorman for all of us. And she’s paid generously. She can put my cup in the dishwasher.

“I heard a lot of noise coming from his place last night,” Ford says, changing the topic back to Lincoln. We’re all wise about where we pick our battles. “Don’t think he’ll be down.”

The three of us all share a look, and though we know what the others are thinking, none of us will say it out loud.

I button my suit jacket closed. “Have a good day, assholes,” I murmur, walking out of the Titans’ Den.

2

Chapter Two

Isla

I park my dad’s Maserati in the parking lot of a nondescript building on the outskirts of downtown. My stomach feels like it’s throwing a party from my nerves at seeing Ford again. Ford is a reminder of his friends and my senior year. A date night gone bad that spurred me to leave Cherry Creek, promising never to return.

Colorado is different than it was a decade ago. I’ve been back a few times after my life imploded, but never to stay longer than a few days. I pretty much left the airport and headed straight to my parents’ house, barely setting foot outside until it was time to head back to the airport.

Few things could have brought me back to my childhood town, my mom and dad being two of them. Truth is, I should have confronted my past a long time ago. It shouldn’t have taken my father’s sickness, because now I’ve lost too much time with him when he was healthy.

But first things first. I need a job.

Which is why I’m currently a tad creeped out at the building where my childhood friend, Ford Masterson, asked to meet him to talk about becoming a part of his campaign team for the mayoral race.

Ford’s parents live next to my parents and he’s always been a stand-up guy and good friend to me. Even though he was part of the stupid group called the Classholes in high school and we didn’t run in the same circles, to me he was always just Ford, the kid who liked to go out on rainy days and move worms from the concrete to the grass before the sun came out and killed them.

I grab my leather bag off the passenger seat and step out of the SUV. The sun warms my face even though it’s colder than normal this January according to the weather guy. Tightening my coat, I steel myself against the brisk wind and walk into the building.

The foyer isn’t anything special. Standard beige walls with matching tiles and a board listing all the suite’s occupants.