Bad Girl

by Goode, Ella

  Bad Girl

  Ella Goode

  Contents

  Summary

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

  Also by Ella Goode

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  Summary

  Cancer took my mom but Warren Holmes took my dad.

  For my whole life, it was just my mom and me. We got by fine. When she passed, I discovered the identity of my father in a journal she’d hidden away. By the time I reached him, though, he’d already left this world. His whole life savings had been taken in a crooked real estate scheme. My uncle gave me purpose: take down War Holmes and avenge my father.

  Despite what my fake resume says, I’m a waitress with no college education but I’ll stop at nothing to bring that man to his knees. It doesn’t matter how sweet his kisses are or how tenderly he holds me, I’m going to win this war.

  Chapter One

  Leila

  “Stop fidgeting,” my Uncle Chris snaps at me. I drop my hands into my lap. “Are you going to be able to do this?” He leans back in his chair, his giant mahogany desk separating us. He gives me a skeptical look.

  “It shouldn’t be a problem.” I have to do this. Warren took something from me so now I’m going to take something from him. It’s only fair.

  “You’ll get five percent of the sale if you pull this off. Anything else you might find we’ll have to see about.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t want the money.” That’s not what this is about. At least not for me. Warren is the reason my father is dead. I plan to do everything I can to make sure he feels the consequences of that.

  He pushed my father to a breaking point, leaving him a broken man who thought he had nothing to live for any longer. So he took the one thing he still did have: his life. I want Warren to know what it feels like to have something taken from him.

  “Your apple didn’t fall far from the tree, I see.” Chris taps his fingers on his desk. He has a better manicure than I do.

  “I wouldn't know.” I came in search of my father six months ago. For my entire life, my mom refused to tell me who he was. It wasn’t until after her funeral when I was going through her things that I discovered my dad’s identity.

  It was all right there in my mom’s personal journal. With each turn of a page, I learned something about my life I didn’t know. But I’d been too late when it came to meeting my dad. For a brief moment, I’d thought maybe I wasn't alone in the world anymore. I was wrong.

  When I lost my mom, it felt like I’d lost a piece of myself as well. I still can’t pull myself out of the grief, but this is giving me purpose. I have somewhere to focus this anger that is raging inside of me.

  “You have his eyes and hair coloring.” I reach up to touch my hair, playing with the ends.

  “Did he really not know about me at all?” I ask again. Am I trying to find an out? If he didn't care about me, then I shouldn't care about him. There would be no reason for me to do any of this in that case.

  “No. Your father always wanted kids but was too wrapped up in his work to ever find himself a wife.” My nose starts to sting, but I fight back the tears, knowing that Chris will toss me out otherwise. He already thinks that I can’t handle this. “He would have welcomed you with open arms.” His words only dig the knife deeper into me. I have to do this. There is nothing to lose at this point.

  “I can do this,” I reassure him even though I have no clue if I really can. But I figure if there is a will, there’s a way.

  “Good.” He pushes the folder across the desk. “Everything you need is in there. You start tomorrow at Hugo Realty. Since no one knows about you and there is no connection to your father, I don’t think anyone could ever link you.”

  “How did you do this?” I scan over my fake resume that got me this job.

  According to this paper, I graduated from an Ivy League college after earning a degree in finance. I was also a master chess player. What the hell? I’m going to be so in over my head.

  I think I might be the first woman that hopes the boss asks her to make him a cup of coffee, because that I could handle. All these other fancy things on my resume not so much.

  I worked in a diner through part of high school. Mom got sick my senior year, and I knew I wasn't going anywhere. There was no way I could leave her alone. So I kept working there. We needed every penny we could get to help with all the medical bills that were piling up.

  “Those are my secrets.” He smirks. His smiles always give me an uneasy feeling. The only reason I trust him in this is because we share a common enemy.

  “Can you tell me about this Warren guy?” I want to know everything I can about him before I start. I’m not sure how close I will even get to him. I’m coming in as an intern with the hopes that I’ll be able to get to him from the inside.

  “Keep flipping.” I do. “You need to study that. Memorize every detail you can no matter how insignificant it may seem.”

  I stare down at the handsome man in the picture. When I learned of Warren, I was sure he would be some old white guy with gray hair. Not even close. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s in his thirties. He is not who I pictured to own one of the largest commercial real estate companies on the East Coast.

  As I keep reading, I see my guess of his age is right. There really aren't any details left out. It even says how Warren takes his coffee. Chris doesn't miss anything.

  “There’s not much about his personal life.” I pull my eyes away from the folder.

  “The man is married to his work. It’s all he cares about.” No wonder he’s willing to step on anyone that gets in his way. “Like I said, you need to memorize everything.”

  “That won’t be a problem.” I remember everything. Sometimes I think it’s a gift. Other times it’s more of a curse. One I don’t let anyone know I hold. People act differently around you when they realize you remember every detail no matter how small.

  I’ve learned to hide it over the years. Pretending to write down the orders when I waitressed or even making sure I didn't score too high on my course work. I wanted to be normal. Like everyone else. Even when I tried to be, it never worked.

  “Your badge.” Chris tosses it across the table. I grab it. “I hope you have something nicer to wear than that.” He assesses my outfit.

  “I’ve got it handled,” I lie, standing up from my chair.

  “Keep that phone on you at all times,” he reminds me for the millionth time.

  “Got it,” I say before I head out of his office. The plan is in place.

  The only thing I have to do is make this Warren guy pay.

  Chapter Two

  Warren

  “Warren, the Kelso papers need to be signed.”

  “Mr. Holmes, the city inspector called to tell you there’s a problem with the March property.”

  “Mr. Holmes, there’s a call for you on line three. It’s Mary Risling from the Daily Telegraph. They’re nominating you for an entrepreneur award, and she wants to get a statement from you.”

  “War, there’s a woman here who says you left your phone at her house last night.”

  I stop at that last one, whispered in my ear by my assistant, Connor. “I was in the office until ten and then went home to my penthouse. Better look into it. I’ll see her if I need to.”

/>   Connor gives me a nod, but when he falls away, I’m mobbed. Papers are thrust into my face. A cell phone appears out of thin air and a Bluetooth headset is pressed into my ear. I tuck the papers under my arm, grab a coffee from someone whose face I don’t recognize and power forward into my office.

  “It’s an honor I don’t deserve, Mary. Tell your paper to give it to someone else.”

  “It’s already been done. Plaque’s engraved,” the reporter coos into my ear. “I’ll deliver it myself after I pick it up tomorrow. Say around seven?”

  “I run in the mornings.” I page through the notes about the inspector’s complaints. Damn. The March property was going to be a big, multimillion dollar deal, but if the ground is unstable and foundations are sinking, I might have to walk away. The riverfront property is so damn enticing though.

  “I meant evening.”

  “I know what you meant. I’m not accepting the damn award.” I hang up. “Connor, get me Solid Engineering. I want to see if we can shore up the foundation.”

  “On it!” he calls from the outer office.

  The Kelso contract is perfect. I sign and call out for Connor, but he’s on the phone. A girl dressed in blue is standing right outside my door. The coffee girl. The one I didn’t recognize. The one that made my dick harden under the superfine Italian wool pants. I’m going to have to fire her. I crook my finger.

  She looks over her shoulder and then points to herself, mouthing, Me?

  “Yes. Come,” I command.

  She steps into my office and starts to close the door. My dick swells again.

  “No,” I order sharply. “Leave the door open.”

  The last thing I need is for a hot young thing that makes my cock twitch closing the door and making my body feel like we’re about to get some action.

  “No need to be testy,” the girl replies.

  Her sharp retort stuns me into silence. I recover quickly though. “Fine. Whatever. You’re fired.” I can’t risk her working here, but if she wasn’t working here any longer, that might work.

  “You can’t fire me,” she retorts. “I’m a temp worker.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense. How can I be forced to pay someone I don’t want?” I spot Connor zipping past the doorway. “Connor, get in here.”

  He sticks his head in the door. “You called?”

  “I’m firing this girl, and she tells me I can’t because she’s a temp worker.”

  Connor sucks some air between his teeth, a sure sign he’s about to say something that will piss me off. “Technically she’s not wrong. We can only call the temporary agency and tell them that we aren’t happy with the worker they’ve sent. She still remains in their employ, but she can be removed from these premises.”

  Something inside me lurches at the thought of this girl being gone, and that moment of weakness only serves to stiffen my resolve. She’s too dangerous to be in this company for a second longer.

  “Then have her removed.” I wave a hand and dismiss them both, returning to the March property report. What is this girl doing to my head? I just want to fire her, but I don’t really want her to go anywhere.

  “No.”

  “No?” I raise my head, not quite sure I heard my assistant correctly.

  “No. It’s a madhouse out here with Jocelyn on maternity leave and this is our third temp from the agency. If we send her back, they won’t have another replacement for a month or longer. Did Leila do something wrong?”

  Yes, she exists. She’s too hot, too sexy, too dangerous to be here in my office—but I can hardly say that out loud, can I?

  “I don’t like the look of her.”

  Hurt flashes across her face while surprise paints itself over Connor’s features. He’s never heard me talk like this.

  “I’ll just keep her out of your eyesight then.” He pulls on the girl’s arm and closes the door quietly behind them as they exit the room.

  I barely have time to regret my choices when the door bursts open and a woman careens through wearing a large striped caftan and carrying a bouquet of pink balloons. She throws her arms out.

  “Darling,” she shouts. “It’s a girl!”

  She tugs on a string, and two balloons pop. Someone yelps in surprise. Confetti rains down. I squeeze the back of my neck and try to keep from shouting my frustration.

  Connor appears and drags the woman out of the office. The door slams shut this time. I pinch the bridge of my nose and then I pick up the phone and dial.

  “Jocelyn here.”

  “When are you coming back?”

  “Are you going to call me every day?”

  “Only until you come back. I’m on my knees, Jocelyn.”

  “Doubtful. Do you want to say hello to your nephew?”

  “No.”

  “Okay.”

  “Wait! Yes, I do. Turn the video on.” There’s a moment of silence and then the cherubic face of my nephew, Finn, shows up. He gurgles in delight and places his tiny starfish hands against the screen. His face gets closer and blurrier until all I see is a dark spot on the video screen. The image tilts and spins and finally goes black.

  “Sorry. He tried to eat the phone,” Jocelyn explains. “Anyway, Connor sent me a text saying that you’re being mean to the temp. Don’t be mean or I might never come back. It sounds like a hostile work environment.”

  “It wasn’t before, but I can make it one,” I threaten.

  Jocelyn laughs. “You poor child. I’ll send you a pacifier since you’re acting like a baby. I bought a package of 25 of them from Amazon the other day. No need to thank me, just be nice to the employees.” With that exhortation, she hangs up.

  I drop my head in my hands. The office is in chaos, my dick’s hard, and a new temp worker has shown up to lead me to my doom.

  Chapter Three

  Leila

  For someone that doesn't care for the look of me, he seems to stare a lot. Anytime he comes out of his office, his eyes go straight to me. I try not to fidget, wanting to play it cool. I pretend that I don’t even notice, but I’m worried. I mean, who wouldn’t be?

  The man tried to fire me within the first ten minutes of being in my presence. I would say of meeting me, but we hadn’t even been properly introduced and he tried to give me the boot. I was only saved because the office is so short-handed and desperate.

  I’m not sure what I did to him or why he dislikes me so much. I know I have a problem keeping my mouth shut which I’ll have to work on in the future. But I hadn’t even spoken but a few words to him before he started being a jerk the first day.

  He is either looking for a reason to replace me or he’s on to me. I haven't done anything for him to catch, though, so it can’t be the latter. At least not yet. I’ve been here for over a week now. I’m settling in and getting the hang of things. I never knew an office could be so busy.

  Warren doesn’t even care that everyone has to work their asses off. He was ready to toss me out and pile more work onto them. It only cemented what Chris told me about him. Warren doesn't care about anything or anyone but himself. He does deal after deal, not caring what property he might be buying out from under someone. The bottom line is he is clearly his number one priority.

  What the heck did he even mean when he said he didn’t like the look of me? I swear, even though I know he was being a mean jerk-face, I have to admit that hearing those words was like a punch to the gut.

  I tried to mask my hurt. Why do I even care what he thinks about me? I hate that those stupid words bounce around inside of my head. I do notice that I don’t have as nice of clothes as everyone else around here with designer labels, but I’m at least put together. He’s clearly a snob who looks down his nose at me.

  “Leila.” Scott calls my name. He’s another one of the assistants. “Are you coming tonight for happy hour?”

  I paste a smile on my face. “Of course.” Everyone else around here has been easy to get to know. I’m still working on building trust. I haven't come
across anything of real substance yet, but I hope that it’s only a matter of time. It doesn't help that Warren is watching my every move. I’ll have to be careful.

  “Leila, I need you to stay late.” Warren suddenly comes out of his office. The pictures I’ve seen of him do him no justice at all. He’s even more handsome in person. I wish I could say I hate the look of him, but that would be a lie. I keep reminding myself that his insides aren’t so pretty.

  “Okay,” I agree, not really having an option. He turns around to go back into his office. Out of all the people here, why does he want me to stay? I thought the man hated me. Unless he’s only doing this to torture me.

  My phone vibrates on my desk.

  Scott: We’ll be there for a few hours. Stop by after.

  Me: I’ll try and make it!

  I could actually use a drink or two after this week. Not that I’m actually going to have one. I have to keep my wits about me. I have to remain focused and on task. I can’t allow myself to waver.

  The day presses on, and I mainly handle phone calls or folding brochures. I also take care of getting almost everyone’s lunches and coffee. I’m thankful that all the stuff they’ve asked me so far, I can actually do. My stomach growls, reminding me that I forgot to get myself something to eat as well.

  Slowly the office starts to clear out until I’m the only one left sitting at my desk. Warren never comes out of his office to tell me what I need to do. Clearly it’s not as important as he made it seem earlier. I wait another ten minutes before I get irritated and grab my purse to leave. I’ve been sitting out here for over forty-five minutes and nothing.