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As usual, Giselle and her entourage never knocked, and usually, that just put Finley on the back foot, but not today.
Fuck, Giselle.
Without thinking about it, she walked up to her stepcousin, spun her around, shoved her out of her bedroom door, and then tossed the Trent sisters out next.
"Just for the record, Jagger McCoy’s cock is as big as the legend says, and yes, I did all thedirtywork myself to find that out."
"You were supposed to document it with a picture, so you’re lying."
"Oh, wouldn’t you love a picture of Jagger’s cock. Well, you know what, Giselle, you don’t bother me anymore, and you can die wondering about his size for all I care." She shoved the door closed in their faces, turned around, stood with her hand on her hip, and waited for her friends’ applause. They didn't disappoint.
By the time Amanda and Jenna left, it was already early evening. She was too tired to go and find proper food, and with her father away for business in the city, she didn’t have to worry about making sure there was something nutritious for him to eat.
She went to bed early with a book, relived everything Jagger had done to her in vivid detail, then fell into a sleep so deep she only woke up the next morning. It bothered her that the first thing she looked for was her phone.
Was she seriously expecting Jagger to call her or message her? He didn’t even have her cell number, so the joke was on her. She had lost her mind. Except he did.
Morning, Kitten. I can still taste you in my mouth.
That’s all. And she read it five hundred times in the space of the morning. Okay, she really had to get a grip. She was never going to see him again, and she had a life to get back to. But where did he get her number from? Nope, it didn’t matter.
First, she had loads of virtual meetings to get through and emails to answer, and she also had to approve a line of clothes that was going to be featured for a charity event next month.
She was more than capable of taking care of her father if he lost everything, with the money she made from her business, and while it might not be the billionaire lifestyle he was accustomed to, she could ensure that he lived in style and wanted for nothing.
But that wasn’t what it was about. Her father needed his business to see him through the day. She knew that he would dip into a depressive slump if he had to lose everything because then all he’d have was his broken heart to deal with.
While Marsh Hotels was his life, he didn’t want it to be Finley's, and she was more than okay with that. In his will, he had instructed his lawyers to sell his companies, and every cent was to go to Finley. She couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to him, so she brushed that thought aside as she called him to check up on him. The call went to voicemail, and she reminded him to get something healthy for lunch. Although she had already texted his PA to do the same, surprisingly, Mona hadn’t answered the text as well... and neither had Jeremy answered his. She had left him countless messages to call her back, and she had left as many calls on his phone that he just seemed to keep missing.
He was avoiding her.
As if that were possible.
She tried one last time.
"Finley, are you trying to get me killed?"
"Oh, good, you’re available. We’re having dinner tonight, and no is not an option."
"I don’t know, Fin. Have you seen the man? He was a fucking Seal before he became a lumberjack. Did you know that? He can unalive me with his pinkie, and he’ll enjoy it. He told me to stay away from you, or else. You belong to him now, girl."
"He wouldn’t dare hurt a strand of hair on your head," she said, riled up again at the arrogant, egotistical thing he had done. He had no right. Just because he could melt her body and her mind and reduce her to a puddle with one look didn’t give him the right to go around orchestrating her life as if he owned it. She quickly stopped herself, took a breath, and calmed down. Now was not the time to go through another anger bender for the same thing. She was just being repetitive, and it solved nothing.
She took two more deep breaths.
"Meet me at Hattie’s tonight at seven."
"Did you hear what I said about his pinkie?"
"Can’t I have dinner with my friend? Ever? Is that what you’re saying?"
"Basically, yes."
"Okay, what is up with you? I’ve known you my whole life, and you literally go out looking for trouble, and then you laugh in its face. You can’t tell me Jagger McCoy scares you."
"But he does."
"Why?" She cried.
