Page 66 of His Good Girl
“Again?” she complains, throwing her head back in a gesture made for teenager sulks, not middle-aged women in a professional setting.
“That one has to go.”
“Quentin said—”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass what he said or did or will do. She needs to go.”
Allison purses her lips and huffs. “He is the Chairman of the Board,” she says eventually.
“Which doesn’t give him jurisdiction over who my assistant is. I owed him one for Serena, this…child…does not belong in my presence.”
She blinks and silently backs out, no doubt to tell tales to her Society superior, but honestly, at this point, I don’t care.Katrinais about twenty. I know what game Quen is playing, and he’s sick. He’s trying to lure me away from his niece with a younger, tastier bait, but he has absolutely no idea that I’m as turned off by Katrina as I am at the thought of screwing Allison.
Serena is my type—end of story. There is no in-between, there is no replacement, there is no one else. Never in the history of my sex life have I ever gone for a younger woman apart from Serena, and that is only because of who she is. The age thing is significant, but nothing at the same time.
It’s time to put an end to this shitshow once and for all. Rue gave me a weapon, and I intend to use it.
Rising to close the door, quietly this time, I pull my phone out and scroll through the contacts.
Hitting dial, I wait while it rings.
“Logan Carter. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Viktor. We need to talk.”
“Why, yes, we do.”
Chapter36
Serena
“Wow.”
“Really?”
“I mean, wow.”
Blushing, I tug on the black silk fingerless gloves that cover my arms from the top of my hand to my elbow.
“I’m so envious of your rack,” Rue says. “Look at those girls.”
Giggling, I look down. I do look hot in this black strapless dress that sweeps the floor, with a tight bodice, and shows off my cleavage nicely with excellent support for my larger breasts. Logan is going to freak out. In a good way, I hope. He has begged and pleaded over our many phone calls and texts over the last two days to see my dress, but I have refused, wanting him to see me for the first time in person. Rue had to lend me the money to buy it, but I’ll totally pay her back when I can. We tried to stuff my curves into one of her dresses, but yeah, nope. That wasn’t happening. I looked like a strung-up joint of beef ready for the oven.
Not attractive.
“You look amazing,” I compliment her, dressed in her signature white, a slinky designer halter neck dress that barely covers her tits or the top of her ass at the back. It’s long but has no back in it at all. She’s held in with tit-tape, which wouldn’t hold even one of my breasts for a microsecond before creaking with the strain and then giving up, exhausted and spent.
“Logan is going to lose his mind when he sees you,” Rue says, handing me a black lacy mask that partially covers my face. My hair is coiled up in a tight bun on top of my head. I wanted to leave it loose, but it’s too recognizable should Quentin be lurking. I mean, I’m no fool. If he looks at me, he will know who I am, but the slight anonymity the mask gives me settles my raging nerves a little bit.
A knock at the door distracts Rue. She crosses to open it while I fuss with the top of my dress, paranoid it's going to slip down too far and show a nipple or two to the world. But it’s secure and not going anywhere.
“Rue, darling!”
Looking up at the female voice with the slight accent that sounds like honey dripping slowly onto melted chocolate, I blink at the woman descending on Rue in a tight hug before she releases her and steps aside for her husband to do the same. It doesn’t take a genius to know these are Rue’s parents. Rue looks exactly like her mother.
After embracing her father, she turns to me with a smile. “This is Serena. Serena, these are my parents, Francesca and Viktor.”
“Ah, yes! Serena!” Francesca exclaims, sweeping over to me in an unsurprisingly white couture dress that probably cost more than my entire year’s rent. “You are magnificent. Look at you!”
