Page 234 of Filthy Truth


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I knew it wouldn’t always be easy being Star’s soft place to land, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t worthwhile.

I had one of the most well-connected, deadliest women in the world in my arms, calling me her fiancé, sharing a home with me, allowing me to raise her child with her…

If anyone was lucky, it was me.

51

STAR

Rachel gritted her teeth. “Why are you so truculent?”

“What this mean?”

Alessa, as Ukrainian as Amara, hitched a shoulder. “Don’t ask me.”

I shot Amara a glance. “It means I’m a difficult pain in the ass.”

“Tak. This why I like you. I also am difficult.”

Rachel grunted. “I know. But you have an excuse.”

“What excuse?” Alessa questioned, evidently curious as to the First Lady of the MC’s logic.

“The same one you have—English isn’t your first language.”

I smirked at Rachel. “You just can’t stand that I have ideas that will work.”

“You’ve never been involved in something like this before. How do you know it’ll work?”

“Because people hate those galas you’re oh, so famous for.”

“Uh, no, they don’t. They’re a legitimate tax write off and the women get to wear their jewels and brag to their friends about who they’re banging. This is a tried and tested method of raising funds for the new foundation.”

I rubbed a finger down my nose, making sure she knew that I was flipping her the bird.

“You might find it boring, Star,” Alessa said kindly, “but maybe it’s something rich Americans like doing.”

“Star was rich American. Father rock star, no?” Amara demanded.

I snorted. “Yeah. Why won’t you just let me fund the charity, Rachel? Then we don’t have to answer to any-fucking-one.”

“Apart from you. I’d prefer to owe Lucifer a favor.”

That had me cackling. “Good one.”

“I mean it.”

“I know you do.”

“Plus, we need more than your fortune if we’re going to make a difference.” Rachel sucked in a breath, her Type-A ass straightening the many items of stationery she’d brought with her to the meeting room.

AKA her dining room.

“Rach?” Rex, her Old Man, hollered from down the stairs. “Where are you? Got a kid that needs feeding and I tried but she prefers you.”

Rachel’s nose crinkled. “I’m so sorry, ladies.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” was Alessa’s kind retort. “Sommer needs to eat and we’re all friends here.”

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