He takes me to bed. He loves me with his mouth and his hands. He makes me come over and over, and when he finally enters me, his throbbing cock touching the deepest part of me, his gaze locked with mine, he traces his fingers along the diamond necklace, his light yet possessive touch making me tremble.
“Mine,” he whispers. “You’re mine, Summer.”
“Always,” I tell him as he begins to thrust.
Always.
Fifty
Whit
One month later
I show up at my lawyer’s office precisely at ten. I left my apartment early, not taking any chances with the Manhattan traffic, and still my parents managed to beat me here.
Irritation fills me as I’m escorted to Madison’s office by his assistant and I spot them sitting inside with matching annoyed expressions on their faces. My lawyer Ben Madison is a skinny little man who looks like he couldn’t squash a bug, but he’s as ruthless as they come.
It’s why I hired him. I need a vicious shark on my side when I’m going into battle with my family.
“Mr. Lancaster. Good to see you.” Madison rises to his feet and walks over to me, shaking my hand. “Have a seat.”
I walk over to the one empty chair closest to Madison’s desk, unbuttoning my suit jacket before I sit. I am all business this morning, because I’m not about to let my parents fuck with what’s mine. I’m here to play.
I’m here for war.
“I don’t understand why we’re meeting this morning. I’ve already expressed my concerns. My son is with a woman who isn’t good enough for him. She will spend all of the family’s money and most likely leave my children destitute,” Mother says to my lawyer, her icy expression one that is long familiar. She doesn’t like being put in a corner, or bossed around. She’s had control over my life for a long time, but once I became an adult, I told her to fuck off.
With relish.
She’s been fighting me tooth and nail ever since. Trying to take control of the trust fund I received from her side of the family when I turned eighteen—didn’t happen. She’s busily working to limit the amount of the trust fund I’m about to inherit when I turn twenty-one. That’s not going to happen either.
My father doesn’t fight me. He’s currently in this office as a formality, and hopefully, as a united front with me.
But we shall see. Mother is persuasive. And while I love my father, I also know he’s weak.
Especially when it comes to women.
I think of the one woman who has complete and total control of me, and my heart immediately softens. Perhaps she’s a weakness, but together, Summer and I are strong. It was difficult leaving her alone in my bed earlier this morning. Naked and warm, her hair a mess from last night’s activities. I’d kissed her and she wound her arms around my neck, begging me to stay.
“One last meeting, love,” is what I told her, my voice firm and full of determination. “And then they can’t control me any longer.”
Getting Summer to come back to the States with me took some convincing. She was reluctant. Scared. My mother doesn’t like her, and Summer feels the same. They will most likely never get along, and I’m okay with that. I will choose Summer over my mother any day.
Every day.
“I don’t want to argue with you,” I tell my mother. “But your assumption of Summer is ridiculous. She doesn’t even care about my money.”
She barks out a laugh. “I find that hard to believe.”
“It’s true,” I say, baring my teeth in a feral smile.
My father says nothing, which is best. One wrong word and Mother will latch onto it.
“It is true,” Madison says, opening a slim folder and pulling out a document. He hands it to my mother. “This is the prenuptial agreement Miss Savage signed in regards to marrying your son.”
Mother’s mouth pops open as she takes the document, not even bothering to look at it. “You two are getting married?”
“Not yet,” I say, hating how Summer keeps denying my proposals, but I have to agree to her wishes. Though I’m positive I’ll wear her down. Eventually. “But she wanted a prenup drawn up immediately upon her moving into my apartment. Said she didn’t want anyone to think she was a gold digger.”
“She is a gold digger—” Mother says, and I sit forward, cutting her off with a look.
“Watch what you say about her,” I say, my voice sharp. I’ll carve her up with words and have zero regrets over it too. “She’s the mother of my future children.”
“Please do not tell me that girl is preg—”
“Sylvia.” My father’s voice booms, startling her. “Shut up.”
She clamps her lips shut, her gaze dropping to the document I had Madison draw up earlier in the week. “So what?” she says when she’s finished reading, dropping the paper on the edge of my lawyer’s desk. “I’m sure she’ll figure out a way to spend your money somehow. Our money.”
“My money is my money,” I tell her vehemently. “She won’t have access to yours. Or Father’s, or Sylvie’s or Carolina’s. We all have our own trust funds and bank accounts. You know this. You helped set up our inheritance when we were babies. Why are you so damned determined to steal it away from me?”
“Because of her!” She jumps to her feet, her face red, her eyes bulging. Sylvia Lancaster doesn’t lose control. She’s disturbingly calm in almost every situation—with one exception.
“You did this.” She rounds on my father, who rears back at the vehemence in her tone. “It’s all your fault. First you fuck that little slut for all those years and destroy our marriage once and for all, and now our own flesh and blood is having a torrid affair with the slut’s daughter. I won’t have it!”
My father stands, looming over his ex-wife with a faint sneer on his face. “You take everything so damn personal, Syl. Acting like Whit is trying to hurt you by being with Summer.” He glances over at me, his expression full of understanding. “Sometimes we can’t help who we fall in love with.”
She whips her head in my direction, blue eyes blazing. “I know I haven’t always been the most—nurturing mother to you, but—”
“This has nothing to do with you,” I say, my voice deceptively soft. “And everything to do with me. And what I want. You’ve never given me a choice. My entire life, up until the moment I turned eighteen, I let you call the shots. I even believed you were looking out for my best interests.”
“I was,” she says. Father makes a dismissive noise and she turns her attention toward him. “What? It’s true!”
“You’re forgetting my parents didn’t always approve of you, especially not at first,” he reminds her.
She laughs nervously. “Please. They chose me over everyone else. Your father handpicked me from a swarm of debutantes who were all vying for your attention.”
“And then they met you,” he says, cutting her right to the bone. I can tell by the way her gaze dims. “My mother worried you were too controlling. I always wished I could tell her she was right.”