Sinfully Rich: A Steamy Billionaire Box Set

by Vivian Wood

  I shake my head slowly. “I can’t believe you are going to be a father.”

  His expression turns dreamy. “Yeah. I can’t wait. I didn’t even know that I would feel so… mmm… lucky, I guess. I wonder if is what people from good families feel like their whole lives?”

  I honestly would not know. It’s not as if I’m from a particularly loving family or anything. My mom is bitter, my dad was gone most of my life up until he died. But I hold my tongue, because from what I’ve heard Aiden’s childhood makes mine seem like a fucking walk in the park.

  We turn around a corner and I see the pizza place at the end of the block. My pace slows, though. Aiden hasn’t really talked to me a lot about his and Eve’s family experience other than to say that it was dysfunctional. It makes my mostly fatherless childhood seem normal.

  “Well… you have a bigger family now,” I say with a shrug. “Eve, Olivia, your unborn baby… me, the rest of the Morgans... For whatever we’re worth.”

  He rubs his hand over the nape of his neck. “Thanks man.” He waits a beat before he changes the subject. “It smells good as fuck in here.”

  For a split second, I’m talking to my dad. Just looking away, his face half hidden by shadow, he’s the spitting image of the man. Thomas Morgan might as well be sitting across from me, though Aiden never met him. I smile. “Yeah. I think I need an IPA and a slice of their meatiest meat pizza.”

  Aiden nods and looks around. “That’s a good idea. Let me see if I can flag someone down…”

  I breathe out slowly, trying to tell myself to relax and just enjoy some pizza.

  7

  Eve

  Carter isn’t right for me.

  He’s overbearing and bossy.

  He’s ten years older than me.

  And he has an already complicated relationship with my brother Aiden. I don’t really want to compound any of that by having a fling with him. Really I don’t.

  Add that to the whole he’s-my-professor thing and it renders him untouchable.

  But apparently the news hasn’t spread to the pit of my stomach, because I’m sitting in class staring at him and wondering just how it would be. The it being sex, of course.

  Would it be amazing?

  Would it be all I’ve ever fantasized about?

  I slump down another inch in my chair as he lectures the class on the digestive system, eyeing his physique. Carter is very tall. He’s also built like a tank, thick arms and weighty thighs. Right now he has on a white button up with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, showcasing the golden skin of his forearms, all taut and veiny. I swear, forearms have never been sexy to me before…

  But now as he writes terminology down on the chalkboard, his forearms bare, his ass looking like a million bucks in his dark slacks…

  I can see why women swoon over them.

  Violet leans over to me, whispering. “I don’t know how Dr. Morgan does it, but he makes that man bun look super hot.”

  Blushing a little, I shoot her a critical look. “Shhh.”

  She just continues as if I hadn’t spoken. “Seriously, it should be a crime to be that much of a hunk. I can’t decide whether I like looking at his face or his ass more.”

  “Ladies!” Carter booms. My eyes go wide as I look down at him where he stands in the middle of the room. Fifty pairs of eyes are suddenly on us. “Is there something you would like to share with the rest of the class?”

  I could die of embarrassment right here and now. Turning bright red, I shake my head. Vi doesn’t even appear ruffled, tossing her inky black hair.

  “No, professor!” she calls. “I was just asking Eve for a pen. Mine ran out of ink.”

  Carter’s dark gaze focuses on us for a second, narrowing slightly. “Ask more discreetly in the future, Ms. Gianni. You are distracting the entire class.”

  I hear the distinct snicker of someone just behind me. I’m going to kill Vi as soon as class is over. If I could get any lower in my desk without falling out of it, I would.

  Vi salutes him with two fingers to her temple. “Aye aye, captain. Won’t happen again.”

  With a shake of his head, Carter goes back to his lecture. “What was I was saying? Ah, yes. In the human microbiome…”

  I try to focus on the lecture. It should be easy… Just close my eyes or only look at my notes. It should be no problem, as it has been no problem in the other thirty four undergrad classes I took. Or in my other med school classes, taught by a doddering old man and a wiry middle aged woman that looks like she does witchcraft in her free time.

  But my eyes keep wandering up to Carter, finding him again and again. Thinking about how amazing his chest and abs looked when I saw them last weekend. Having my thoughts wander against my will as I admire his large frame.

  I know what that his body feels like when I’m pressed against him intimately. Like on the Fourth of July when held me under his jacket, making me feel so small next to him. I shiver even now, just remembering his arm sliding around my waist and pulling me flush against his hip.

  Something about that experience with Carter… actually, scratch that. Every experience I’ve ever had with him leads me to believe that he would play my body like the finest violin, plucking my strings just so until I fall apart in his hands.

  God, I can almost feel his hands on my body, making me bite my lip with anticipation…

  A rustle of paper startles me from my lustful thoughts. I widen my eyes and sit up a little straighter as Violet slides a folded up square of paper onto my desk. Looking at her, I frown.

  But she just nods at the piece of paper, raising a brow, and then returns to paying attention to the lecture. I look around stealthily, then quietly unfold the paper.

  You aren’t paying attention to this lecture. Are you trying to imagine Dr. Morgan doing dirty things to you?

  Flushing, I look at Vi. But she just ignores me, pretending to focus on what Carter is saying. She’s even taking notes. I look back down at the note, angry at being caught out. I scribble a message to her.

  No!!!! Will you stop? I’m trying to pay attention but it’s already hard enough because Dr. Morgan is so boring!!

  I fold it and pass it back. Vi sends me a wicked look as she opens the note. Then she suppresses a giggle and scrawls something on the note. She hands the note to me once more, not even trying to pretend she’s stealthy this time.

  I look forward, keeping my eyes trained on Carter for a full minute before I give in and unfold the note. When I glance down I blush immediately.

  You are so hot for Dr. Morgan, you can’t even hide it. You wish he would bend you over that desk of his and have his way with you. Just admit it.

  I’m so shocked I can barely compute. She’s right of course, but that doesn’t make it okay to even put it out there in the universe.

  Dr. Morgan is totally, completely off limits. It’s absurd for Vi to even suggest otherwise.

  Crumpling up the paper in one fist, I stare down at my notes. Dropping it on top, I seethe. I’m so distracted that I don’t even notice when Carter stops lecturing.

  When he plucks the note from in front of me, I am shocked and horrified. He sneers down at me, looking more intimidating than ever. I cringe downward, sinking a few inches in my seat.

  “I have never taught grade school,” he says, his voice booming. “But I have seen enough tv to know that if I want to stop you people from passing notes, all I have to do is read the first one I catch out loud.”

  I’m in a nightmare. A real, actual, honest to God nightmare.

  “No!” I blurt out, unable to restrain myself. “Don’t read that!”

  He eyes me as he smoothes out the wrinkled ball. Then he reads it, his brows arching as he does. I die inside a little more as he swivels his gaze back to me.

  “I don’t think you want me to read this aloud,” he says, smirking.

  Oh my god. I could kill him right now, and then kill myself. The newspaper headline would be: Girl Suffers From Complete M
ental Break, Kills Hot Professor and Then Self.

  My face is on fire.

  Vi chooses this moment to pipe up. “It’s a personal matter between us, professor. I’m sure you understand.”

  She beams as she says it, looking like a frigging sociopath. Carter crumples the note again, glaring at both of us.

  “Next time, I will read it out loud. No matter what the subject is,” he tells us sternly. Then he checks his watch and sighs. “That’s it for today, people. Please read chapters two and three in Cell Biology before you come to the next class.”

  He turns and trots back down the steps to his desk, where he stands shuffling papers for the next few minutes. I don’t exactly stick around to see what else he might have to say… As soon as I can stuff all my books in my tote bag, I practically run up the stairs and out the door of the classroom.

  As if my father knows that I’ve just gotten out of class, my phone starts ringing, playing The Ride of the Valkyries at top volume. It makes me jump out of my skin a little because I know who that is.

  Racing to answer, I pick up the phone. My heart beats in my ears. I don’t even bother to look at the screen.

  “Hello Daddy,” I greet him.

  “Geneviève,” he answers. “Are you in class?”

  My dad doesn’t ask this to find out if I’m ready to talk. He asks because he wants to hear that I am actually attending class… even though in all the years I lived with him, I never skipped class for anything short of dire illness.

  “Just got through with class,” I answer simply. “My Cell Biology class is progressing nicely.”

  That’s a lie if I’ve ever told one. It’s the opposite, truth be told.

  He makes a doubtful noise. “I see. And what of your schedule? Did you get up at five as I recommended? I would think that you would be up early to go for a run, Geneviève. It’s important to maintain your health and your body weight. Isn’t that usually the way you conduct yourself?”

  I grit my teeth. “Not quite. I’m still adjusting the being on west coast time.”

  “There is no reason to take that tone with me, young lady. You are supposed to be the master of your body, not some time zone.”

  I hesitate. “Yes, Daddy.”

  He settles into his stride, beginning to rant. “You are only at the University of Washington because of my benevolence, Geneviève. Without me, you would just be a nobody with no money and no influence. You wouldn’t be there without your father, you know. I doubt they would have even looked at your application.”

  “Yes, Daddy.” That isn’t true. I definitely applied to U of W and got accepted based on my perfect transcripts from undergrad. But telling my father that will only make this conversation go on for longer.

  “Ask your worthless brother about what it is like to be outside in the cold while the rest of us feast in the warmth,” my dad warns. I roll my eyes but hold my tongue. “And don’t you go thinking that just because I let you live out there that you’re not still to follow the rules I’ve laid down. No boys, no partying, nothing to distract you. You’ll fly back here and spend every school holiday here with me. And then when you’ve graduated, you are going to return to living here.”

  I swallow. That sounds completely awful. But it’s important that my father thinks he’ll get his way, so I just answer the same as always.

  “Yes Daddy.” I put the phone between my ear and my shoulder as I start to get my keys out. I’m leaving the building and heading straight home to wallow in my embarrassment. Dad doesn’t need to hear that, though.

  “I mean it, Geneviève. I already have my eye on several suitable men for you. So there is no point in leading anyone else on. You’ll marry someone from my law firm. That way I’ll always be in your life.” He growls on the phone. “Always. You hear me?”

  “I understand, Daddy.” I turn a corner, the bridge coming up in my line of sight. I’ve never been quite so glad to see anything, especially not a hunk of metal and concrete.

  There is a pause on his end. “It’s good to know, isn’t it? I will always take care of you.”

  I readjust my tote bag on my shoulder, juggling my keys, and increase my pace. Sure, I probably look like a little insane to anyone watching me pass by. I’m practically speed walking. But I don’t care.

  “It’s reassuring, Daddy,” I murmur.

  My father grunts. “I have to go. I have to actually earn something. We can’t all just ride other people’s coattails, you know.”

  “I know. Thank you, Daddy.”

  “I’ll call you in a few days. You’d better answer. You’d better be on a regular schedule. And you’d better have the name and phone number for someone I can get in contact with about your grades,” he grouses.

  Repressing a sigh as I hit the bridge, I respond in the manner I was taught. “Yes Daddy.”

  “Don’t even think about disappointing me. Goodbye, Geneviève.”

  I hang up, feeling shaky. Until today, I had thought that I’d managed to escape my dad’s close monitoring of my academic life. But no… like always, he insists on having his fingers in everything.

  Not even my own life is mine. He’s made that perfectly clear.

  I have a guilty thought that maybe I’ll get lucky and he’ll just die at his desk soon. I know that I shouldn’t feel that way, especially so soon after I just lost my mother. But I can’t help it.

  My father is a toxic influence in my life.

  And unless I figure out a way to do a lot better in Carter’s class, I’m proving toxic to myself. I have to do better. Biting my lip as I cross the bridge, I suppress an exasperated noise.

  8

  Eve

  I dream about my mom. I don’t remember many of the details… other than my mom was still alive.

  That’s not entirely true. I remember her blue cashmere sweater. I remember her smile.

  But when I wake, reality bleeds into my warm, cozy little dream world. Sitting up in my massive bed, I miss her so badly that it’s like a physical ache. My mom died almost a year ago from cancer and yet…

  I’m still just not even sure how I’m supposed begin to grieve her. Tears pricking my eyes, I go to my chest of drawers and dig through them. When I moved, I only had to keep track of myself, my laptop, and my mom’s blue sweater.

  In the early morning light, I can’t find it for a second and I start feeling panicky.

  Where could it be?

  But I yank open the bottom drawer and there it is, right where I put it. The soft periwinkle fabric weighs nearly nothing as I lift it out. I press it to my face in a moment of weakness and inhale her baby powder scent.

  I know that every time I handle mom’s sweater her scent fades a little more. I know I should put the sweater in a plastic baggie to protect it from the smells and lights that threaten to wash away its stored memories. I know this.

  But here, kneeling on the floor like a supplicant, my head bowed, I can’t bring myself to stop. I let the moment of sadness wash over me until my knees protest being pressed bare against the cool hardwood floors. When I at last rise, I make sure to refold the sweater and tuck it back in the drawer.

  I drag myself through a shower and breakfast, not really feeling like I can shake free of the funk I’m in until I have a cup of coffee. I sip the hot brew as I get dressed, glad that at least something exists to make me feel like a human again. Pulling on a pair of black leggings and a pale pink tunic top, I finish my look with a slouchy off-white sweater.

  Brow creased, I head to campus. I had planned to study for a little bit before my class today. But my father made it clear that he’s going to ask for a contact within the U of W administration. Better to just get it out of the way so I can move on with my day.

  I head to the administration building, only to be told that my request for a contact that will speak with my father must be funneled through the Dean of Medicine’s office. Once I get to the darkly wooded Dean of Medicine’s office, I am told to wait in the little waiting
room.

  Tall-backed wood chairs, muted colors on the walls, several portraits of former Deans hanging in gilded frames. It’s hushed and luxurious. I chew on my bottom lip as I wait, checking the time on my phone.

  It’s 8:10, about two hours until my class. No reason to feel pressured for time, I guess. I look up just as a woman with dark hair and dark glasses appears in the hallway. She’s stylish, wearing a floral one-piece pants suit and a long dark cardigan. From her eggshell-colored skin and beautiful raven’s wing hair, I guess she is maybe of Chinese or Japanese descent. She’s about a decade older than me, if I had to guess, but she just looks elegant and serene.

  “Geneviève?” she asks, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she smiles.

  “Yes,” I say, standing. “It’s Eve, if you don’t mind.” I hesitate. “Are you the Dean?”

  She ushers me back to her office. “No, no. I’m her secretary. My name is Clarissa. My job is kind of like a nurse that does triage. I meet with people and decide how best to deal with each student’s needs. Dean Klausson herself is a very busy lady as you can imagine.”

  I step into her little office, which is perfectly appointed with lush plants, a huge oak desk, and two leather chairs for visitors. She waves me in a chair then sits down behind her desk, smiling kindly.

  I clear my throat, sitting forward. “I have kind of an unusual request.”

  I blush a little but she is unruffled by my words. “Ask away. Then we’ll see whether it is unusual or not.”

  Sliding my tote bag off my shoulder, I fidget with the canvas material. “Okay. Well.” I shove my hand through my hair. “My father needs to have someone to contact about my grades. He wants an impartial, unbiased source of news.”

  Clarissa’s delicate eyebrows rise. “And you aren’t good enough, I take it?”

  My cheeks burn. “No, ma’am.”