“I want to do it right for this baby,” she said to me via text message. I didn’t know why this baby was any more special than me. Was I not worthy enough for her to be my mother too? It was a feeling I would continue to fight for the next few years of my life. Would I ever be enough for anyone?
Between medication and therapy, I eventually became a somewhat normal teenager, as normal as my life could be being the only child of real estate tycoon Theo McGuire. Eventually, I changed my name from Stella to Eleanor, after Eleanor Roosevelt, one of my heroes in US history. I could be anyone with the new identity I was afforded by a man who changed his life as a favor for a friend. That was about the time I also became public knowledge. I had lived in the shadows, far away from the scrutiny of the paparazzi and news media that could have had my entire life with my mother splashed across the television news channels. Instead, Theo did everything right.
The story was told that years earlier, Theo had a surrogate impregnated behind the scenes and had chosen to raise me with the care of Tara and away from the spotlight, just like any child should have the chance to do. My coming out party when I was sixteen was over the top, just like everything he did. I have to admit, looking back, I could only have been classified as one of those girls on that stupid show My Super Sweet 16. It was all about me for once. I wasn’t used to it all, and I don’t think deep down I will ever get used to being someone other than Stella, the wayward kid my mother threw away for the bottle. After all, that’s the truth.
No one gets the chance to reinvent themselves—nobody! I promised Theo that night I would never squander the opportunity I had been given by him. I would seize the day and take on the life I knew was right at my fingertips.
We were more best friends than father and daughter; that’s what worked for us. He never legally adopted me so we never had the title, only in the public eye, and once the story broke that he was my father complete with falsified documents to boot, our public lives changed for good. But, he was a mentor, the man I fantasized about growing up to marry. It may sound sick and twisted, but I didn’t know any better. How do you take a girl at the peak of puberty and send her to live with some guy women all over the world practically drool over? It was a messy road to navigate as a teenager.
The bedroom door was cracked as I walked down the hallway in search of a midnight snack. My insomnia had been insane the past couple days and nothing I could do short of overdosing on my sleep aid would help. My hope was that a warm glass of milk and a handful of Oreos would do the trick. I peeked through the crack to see if Theo was still up; he often spent late nights working on overseas deals. The sight I saw was far from what I expected.
Sitting on the edge of his bed, completely naked, was Theo. A thin sheen of sweat covered his body as his hand pumped his thick cock. I had never seen a dick that big in all my life. Porn had become a hobby of mine once I hit fifteen and since it was so readily available, I had watched a shit-ton of it. This was different. He was unlike any man I had ever seen naked before. He was beautiful, a godly specimen of a man. Every part of his body boasted muscles most men didn’t even have. He was downright fucking gorgeous.
I watched for a few moments, stuck in shock. Was this really happening? Could he see me? I willed myself to be as silent as I possibly could. I didn’t want to get caught. I didn’t want it to stop either. I inched closer to the door, praying the floor under me wouldn’t give me away. My vision narrowed in on the television: porn, but not just any kind of porn. It was a young girl, barely eighteen, and the man was noticeably older. The man on the television scolded the young girl for some kind of bad grade on her report card, obviously some kind of stepdaddy figure. As much as I was trying to watch the television from afar, my line of vision just continued going back to Theo.
His breathing got faster as his hand worked at a feverish pace. Moving to the edge of the bed, he was almost in a standing position as he used his free hand to squeeze his balls and then it happened. “Fuck, Ellie,” he said as his orgasm began shooting spurt after milky spurt from his huge dick. When I heard my name, I looked around, but he didn’t have a visual on me. I slowly began to back away from the door and prayed he didn’t hear me or know I was on the other side of the door watching him jerk off.
Instead of making it to the kitchen, I went back to my room, cued up some porn, and finger-banged myself, thinking about my stepdad jerking off only a couple rooms over.
Theo, my dad never treated me as though I was a burden by any means—in fact, he treated me much the opposite. Once he was my caretaker, anything I wanted, happened. I went from wearing shoes two sizes too small to having the capability to be a complete spoiled brat. But, I was humble, and I still am today.
I get the greatest sense of accomplishment earning money on my own, no matter what illegal activities I may be involved in. I don’t feel bad about being a hired hitwoman because I know each one of these people deserve everything they get; call me the Dexter of the high profile. This wasn’t always an easy road to walk either. It took me a long time to become the person I am today. There is a level of respect for me in the deviant crime community and a Kennedy-type admiration from the public. Graduating from Harvard Law magna cum laude didn’t hurt too much either. I could really do no wrong in the eyes of the public. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had my fair share of Kardashian moments over the years—a breakup here, a drunk night out there—but somehow everyone still cheers for me in the end. None of it really makes sense to me and probably never will, but it’s the life I live and it’s a life I love. God only knows where I would be today had my mother never been pulled over.
Chapter 2
The Party
Ellie
“Linc, I’ll be out of town for a couple days. I leave for Seattle in the morning. Put all my business on hold until at least Tuesday-ish. I have one last thing I need to wrap up tonight, so I won’t be available after nine,” I ramble off to my personal assistant, Lincoln Mathewson III. I hired him when we were in college together. Not only does he keep my life together and as private as I can possibly expect, he is also my best friend. He is who encouraged me to finish law school when I was so desperate to walk away from it all. He was my big, tattooed, sexy bag of motivation that I have become completely dependent upon in the past eight years.
“Seattle?” he questions with his eyebrow cocked up.
“Joseph again. I could use a little bit of a release after the past two jobs. I need a couple days to just let go,” I admit. My job puts a lot of stress and pressure on me. This is just how I chose to center my chi, as hazardous as it would be for my public persona if I was to get caught.
“I don’t blame you in the slightest.” His deep voice booms through the room as he looks over the screen on his smartphone.
“Something interesting?” I ask as I throw the bag of clothes from last night in his direction.
“Another successful mission, my lady.” He pretends to tip his hat in my direction.
“The funds have cleared?” I ask, making sure Linc handled the accounting end of things.
“As always, and with rave reviews I might add—”
“I don’t care. Make these disappear.”
“Who is tonight?” he asks, curious since I have not put my evening plans into the community planner that sits on my bedside table. Pen and paper have always been my favorite means of communication. Cell phones and servers can be hacked way too easily these days, and the amount of cyber warfare taking place in my field is insane. Every day is a digital roll of the dice, but my calendar will always remain on paper.
“No one of substance just yet.” I brush him off. I don’t like talking about a job until I’ve really started to form an opinion on my mark. The best part of the entire night just happens to be the fact that I can socialize and party while I study my next mark from afar.
I am absolutely one for all these fancy galas. Parties are the atmosphere I seem to thrive the most in—introductions, conversations, networking, a
nd the sheer drama of the aristocratic scene. Linc and I are polar opposites in almost every way, and that is why our partnership works. I’m loud as fuck while he, on the other hand, is quiet as a mouse. I’m one who thrives in the public eye while he prefers to be in the shadows. I count on him to keep me in check most of the time; in fact he has the password to every last social media account I have so he can monitor what I say. My mouth? It’s apparently a problem that is going to get me in deep shit one day. Between Theo and Linc, I am pretty much golden though.
Tonight is a charity fundraiser for the local women’s professional society. Raising money for young women in foster care is obviously something close to my heart and I have deeply involved myself in it over the years. The youth of our country is what I choose to focus on while the old and outdated way of thinking slowly dies out with the aging white men it has always thrived to serve. There is a dramatic shift in the political landscape lately; more and more women are showing an interest and the daughters of high profile men who never bore a son are finally throwing their financial backing in. I choose to keep my opinions on it all to myself though; many of my clients still sit around those good ol’ boy tables sipping their whiskey and throwing their backing toward the newest special interest group that will serve them best.
This evening I will stand up in front of the crowd and toast all the work we have accomplished in the past year alongside the two other women who chaired the committee with me, Seven James-Parker and Suzanne Black. We’re three very unlikely women working for one common good. Seven is a harsh businesswoman based out of Manhattan. Her business smarts spawned an entire program many of these girls will take as a vocational class to help them with job placement and continuing education on to college—just one of the many hats Seven wears.
Suzanne, on the other hand, is one of those socialites that married into money. She is the wife of Remington Black, hands down the best criminal defense attorney on the East Coast. His family comes from old Boston money and Suzanne was one of those reality TV stars that just so happened to be able to class it up enough to win a prize. Once they were married, the sole purpose of her life became bearing children, but unfortunately for her, years of infertility plagued their relationship. It became the big story for all the tabloids, though no one would actually say it to her face. I feel bad for her in a way. She begs for the attention of her husband but he is just a flat out piece of shit. She is a beautiful woman with long blonde hair and the body of a goddess—hell, I would fuck her! Maybe it’s those blue eyes that get me? I have a weakness for a beautiful set of blue eyes, on a man or woman.
I finish up the last of my makeup and apply my bright red lipstick, puckering my lips together while staring myself down in the full-length mirror. Tonight my legs look extra long in my short black Christian Siriano dress and bright red pumps to match my lips. My short black hair is chopped wild with minimal wave. I live for getting dolled up like this. I let out a huge sigh and remind myself after the glitz and glamour of tonight wears off, I will be on a plane to Seattle for some much-needed fun.
The alarm system beeps, alerting me that the main door to my penthouse opened. Only two other people in the world have the code so I can narrow it down to Linc or Theo.
“Hello,” I sing out into the evening air while making my way from the bathroom, through my bedroom, and into the living room where Theo sits in my black leather recliner, his favorite spot in the whole place.
“Ready, my love?” he asks with a wicked grin as he flicks the ostentatious Rolex on his left wrist.
“Always.” I laugh at him, so playful—something I’ve always loved about this man. There are so many things I could name off, though our relationship is an odd one for sure. Through the years, we have certainly grown closer, but in a different way than most would expect. It’s a mixture of the brother-sister relationship many stepsiblings often develop with a hint of inappropriate—although when we step out into the public eye, no one would ever know. For all intents and purposes, he is my father, and biological at that.
“Your ass looks awesome in those pants,” I add as he stands to walk to the penthouse door.
“Better than Beckham’s?” Theo asks while trying to look at his own ass. The vision of this 6’3” man trying to spin around and look at his own rear end is enough to make anyone laugh.
“Much better than David’s,” I say to boost his ego. I am lucky I was even able to get him to go to a charity function, and it’s only because it is mine…and maybe because Seven will be there. The way men look at her is something out of a movie.
Once in the lobby of my building, he escorts me to a black stretch SUV parked in front of the Millennium Tower, a building he just so happens to own as well. Not only is it the most expensive real estate project in the history of Boston, but the units also sold for never-before-seen records. Not to be outdone by anyone in town, daddy’s little girl has the penthouse suite. I guess I could claim the title of spoiled, but I’ll continue to downplay it as long as I shall live.
Quickly we are whisked through the rush hour traffic of Boston’s winding roadways in the direction of the Four Seasons, where our event is being held. It is all about showing how fancy we can make our establishment look. The more ritz we roll out, the bigger our donations will be for the evening. Last year we raked in a little over one million dollars, which wasn’t bad for the small crowd in attendance. This year everything was doubled: the guest list, the size of the venue, everything. I don’t like to do anything small or half assed. I like to get the job done.
Scrolling through my iPhone, I check out Facebook, read a couple emails that need an immediate reply, and snap a selfie to post on Instagram before tucking it away in my small white clutch.
“You spend too much time on that thing,” Theo says, giving me shit. He isn’t wrong; I am just a control freak when it comes to anything that involves work. I ignore him and just shrug my shoulders. “I’m serious, Ellie. It’s time to hire another assistant, too. Linc isn’t enough for you. You’re burning the candle at both ends and it’s beginning to worry me.” He may be a little right, but I would never let him know I am partially drowning in the double life I’ve been living.
“I know it’s a lot.” He gives me a sideways glance. “I’ve asked for much more than I’m entitled to Eleanor.”
I don’t want to have this conversation. I don’t do emotional exchanges well. In fact, I go out of my way to not show any emotions; it’s how I’ve coped with things throughout my shitty life.
“Not now,” I say dismissively. I’m rude about it too, and I instantly feel bad, but I have to be. I need him to drop it. I need this conversation to cease before I end up giving in to him. He is a weakness of mine.
“I don’t want to just leave this alone, and I don’t want to argue with you either. Please Eleanor, just take my advice. Hire someone else—maybe someone a little less involved in the behind the scenes stuff. Give Linc a break with your social media empire bullshit and bring on someone to handle that portion of your life.”
I think about the suggestion in silence for a moment before nodding in his direction. “I’ll think about it. I promise.”
“Good, I’ve already found someone for you,” Theo says with a sly grin on his face. “She’ll start on Monday.” I let out a laugh; I should have known.
“Well it’s a good thing I am out of town ’til Wednesday.” That will give Linc time to get her vetted and ready for the task. It’s not a job anyone should be taking lightly. There is a lot that goes into the daily running of my social life—and yup, I know I sound like a total fuckin’ snot.
“Who is she?” I ask.
“I think you may have crossed paths a time or two. Her name is Journey, and she is part of Seven James-Parker’s family somehow, someone’s sister, but that’s not important. She’s a genius and you’ll love her.” His face lights up a bit.
“Now I get it.” I laugh at the dirty old man.
I used to get jealous when he wo
uld show interest in someone other than me, which isn’t the healthiest thing on Earth. Our relationship is complicated, by my own doing, of course. I let out a deep breath and try not to think about it or go down that road. It will throw me into a foul mood when I am supposed to be all smiles.
“Green isn’t a good color on you, Ellie.” He is right—I’m a brat.
“I know, I’ll stop. I’ve been getting better lately. You know this!” I start waving my hands all over the place. The Italian roots of my biological mother rear their ugly head.
“It could have never played out any other way. You know this…” He trails off as the SUV comes to a stop. He is right; this is the only way things could ever be, though there have been moments in my life where I wish I could give it all up and start over with him by my side as a lover and not a father figure. The emotions kill me, but this is how things have to be.
I take a quick look in the mirror before I reach for the door handle. I can hear the crowds outside the car already, a loud roar speculating about who exactly is inside this SUV in the parade.
“Showtime!” I say over my shoulder to Theo as my first pump hits the sidewalk.
“Seven, always a pleasure,” I say while embracing my longtime friend. Her long auburn hair reaches almost to her growing waist. “Another one?” I laugh at the fact that she is pregnant once again, the same woman we all insisted would be single forever. Who knew?
“Shh…this is the last one, I swear!” She holds her hands up in the air while I eye her husband.
“I’m never going to be able to take her on any goddamn adventures if you don’t stop with this nonsense!” I point at her swollen belly.
The Huntress Page 2
