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“It will all work out,” she said. “I promise.”
I dragged my hands down to the curve of her ass, pulling her into my thickness. “I need you, Pepper.”
4
Pepper
Sunday.
I pitied Connor and the predicament he faced.
To the outside world, the Diamonds were one of the wealthiest families in the country. Born into privilege, Connor had it all—model looks included. A lifestyle everyone dreamed of with private jets, homes in Europe and the United Kingdom, tri-story penthouses on Park Avenue, and luxury cars. And if that weren’t enough, women, namely celebrities or supermodels, kept his bed warm at night.
But the outside world didn’t know about the Diamond family’s impending arrangement with the Cavendish. The hidden details with two families that were set in stone decades earlier to make both families wealthier beyond measure, adding royalty to the Diamonds’ already exclusive name.
To the outsider, they saw Alfred and Connor as father and son. Smiles, laughter, and photographs portrayed a close-knit family. They had no idea Connor and his father had a strained relationship like they also wouldn’t be aware that Lourde barely tolerated her own mother.
But I knew all those little details, being by Lourde’s side since we met at school—her family home was my second home. And over the years, I’d witnessed countless arguments between father and son and mother and daughter. Nothing was easy, regardless of how much your family was worth. I should know.
My family privately owned the largest wholesale grocery supply company in the United States. So I, too, bore a responsibility like Connor and Lourde, but at least my parents let me slide under the radar. As long as I didn’t appear in the tabloids, I could be the person I wanted to be, marry whomever I chose, and enjoy my privileged and blessed life.
Did I say my parents were cool?
Hell, yes, they were, but Richie, my older brother, had a responsibility not dissimilar to Connor. One day he would take over the family business. Richie had what Connor had coming.
Responsibility.
Except he wanted it. Connor didn’t, or so it seemed. Truth was, in this short time I’d spent with Connor, I didn’t know what he despised more, running the company or being told who to marry.
I ended up staying the night again, which was odd, but he needed me. He needed my body to forget and to bury himself in me. We fucked like the end of the world was imminent.
Since I woke first, I watched him sleep. It was nearly midday, and we had fucked till the sun came up, and truth be told, I was a little sore. I’d never had a lover like Connor, and I’d probably have no one quite like him ever. I couldn’t get enough of him. But even a busy socialite, I had stuff to do. As I penned him a note and collected my clutch to walk out the door, his doorbell buzzed.
I glanced at the video screen, and a familiar porcelain face stared back at me, freezing me in place.
Lourde.
Shit! What was she doing here?
“Connor!” I yelled out in a panic.
Quickly, I ran to the bedroom, tossing the quilt off his sleeping body. He startled, bolting upright, taking his hand to his eyes and rubbing them.
“Pepper, what the hell?”
“Your sister’s here!”
“Lourde?”
“Yes! She’s downstairs!”
I threw a pillow at him, but he caught it and threw it back.
“Okay, relax. I’ll get rid of her. Stay in here and don’t make a sound.”
He raced out of the bedroom, hitting the button on the video intercom.
“Connor, it’s me,” Lourde’s voice rang out.
