by LP Lovell
Just when I’m ready to throw her down on the desk and let her ‘help’ me, Felix walks back in. His gaze flicks between the two of us. She holds out her palm and he hands her a small paper bag, her eyes still not leaving mine as she stuffs it in her purse.
Standing, she finally turns to Felix. She holds out a handful of bank notes but he shakes his head and pushes her hand away. “Be careful, B. You look like shit.”
She rolls her eyes. “Love you.” She pushes up on tiptoes and kisses his cheek. I narrow my eyes. She flashes me one last look before she leaves.
The door clicks shut and I tilt my head back against the wall, letting out a long breath.
Felix laughs a low throaty chuckle. “Yeah, she gets you like that.”
I open my eyes and flash him a look. “You’re her dealer?” I ask, ignoring him.
His eyebrows drop into a deep frown. “No!” He snaps too quickly. “She’s…she’s one of my best friends. More like a sister really.”
“But you do deal to her…” There’s a thinly veiled accusation in my voice. I don’t judge people who take drugs. Hell, I wouldn’t be where I am without drugs, but for some reason, it bothers me that he’s giving her drugs.
His eyes snap to mine. “You don’t know Blake. She’s…complicated. It’s just a phase. She’ll come out of it. If I deny her, she’ll just buy it elsewhere, and given who she is, that’s dodgy at best. I’m trying to keep her under the radar until this passes.” He drags a hand down his face. “Not that she exactly fucking helps with that.”
“Given who she is?”
He nods, his lips twisting into a small smile. “Torres, you should know who she is. You did fuck her after all.”
“Felix.” I growl.
He sighs. “Fine. Blake McQueen.” Blake McQueen. I know the name, but why? “Daughter of Miles McQueen.”
My eyes widen. “As in?” He nods, a wide grin on his face. “Fuck.” Blake is the daughter of the Minister of Justice.
I smile at the irony, watching as Felix takes out a cigarette, lighting it. “Well, the apple fell very fucking far from the tree.”
He laughs. “Tell me about it. It’s a long story that involves one night, a proposal, a bag of blow, and a fucking epic exit, followed by a few months of some seriously messy shit. Blake lives and breathes as a giant fuck you to her parents.” He shrugs.
“Interesting.”
“I can’t believe that you managed to fuck one of my best friend’s half way across the world.” He shakes his head. “Is there a pussy you haven’t been in?”
I snort and pull out my own packet of cigarettes, placing one between my lips and lighting it. I drag a heavy lungful of smoke into my lungs.
I stare him straight in the eye. “No man with a working dick would just be friends with that girl.”
He lets out a loud laugh. “Well, there was that one time…”
“Thank fuck for that. I was starting to worry about you. Thought maybe I was more your type.”
“You’d still be too pretty, and it was a V card job.”
So Blake lost her virginity to Felix, but she takes drugs, parties with rock stars and isn’t opposed to a bit of pussy. Sounds like my kind of girl.
I glance at my watch. “I need to go, but I’m in London for a couple of months.”
A grin splits his face. “It’ll be just like old times.”
I turn and leave the office, winding through the packed strip bar. Women writhe, their hips swinging seductively as they move around the stages.
Felix has a good thing going here. Honestly, I’m not sure why he’s even into running drugs, but I guess it’s the age old adage of never being happy with what you have. And Felix makes a lot of fucking money out of running coke, with relatively low risk. He’s a supplier, not a dealer. Plus, he’s from a wealthy background—a background no-one would ever suspect of breeding a drug dealer. Not that it ever means shit. Blake is from a good background, but I can practically taste the corruption on her, and that may just work to my advantage.
As soon as they hear I’m back in London, the press are like vultures. Wherever I go, there they are. I left England in a hurry after I wrapped my car around a lamp post high, and nearly killed myself. Fun times. My parents wanted to keep me quiet. Apparently having a daughter who knows how to have a good time isn’t good PR when your father is a minister. So, I was packed off travelling until it died down and a gag order issued to the press. But they forgot that I’m Blake McQueen, and the Americans do so love us Brits. Sending me away was probably the worst thing dear old Daddy could have done. New York is a giant playground for someone like me, so, of course, I drew attention.
My father and I don’t exactly see eye to eye. He thinks I should marry some influential dickhead while I increasingly think that he’s a fucking bell end, and seek to piss him off at every available opportunity. Got to love a bit of family drama.
My new found socialite status seems to have followed me back to London, and as much as I love anything that pisses my father off, their constant attention is irritating.
I approach the coffee shop on Bond Street where I’m supposed to be meeting Felix for coffee and am greeted by flashing cameras.
“Blake, is it true you ran away because you were pregnant?”
“Reports suggest you were drunk when you crashed your car last year. Is this true?”
“Did your father pay off the authorities?”
“Tell us about your relationship with Vincent Le Blanc.”
Really? Vincent? Shit, that’s old news.
Question after question. I’m about to answer them when a black limo pulls up to the curb, and my father’s driver gets out, opening the back door.
“Miss McQueen.” He greets me with a nod and gestures for me to get in.
I smile. “Oh, Charles, give Daddy a message from me.” I give him the middle finger and he drops his eyes to the ground.
The cameras go wild. The questions come thick and fast, all shouting over each other until I can’t hear any of them. I wink and blow a kiss at the photographers who are furiously shoving each other, all scrambling to get their shot. Someone hooks an arm around my waist and I look to my right to see Felix grinning as he pulls me towards the coffee shop.
“Meet me in the shop I said.” He sighs. “You and the press.”
I shrug. “It was going to happen sooner or later.”
He holds the door open for me. “I see your dad is trying to do damage control.”
“Standard.” I order a Latte and follow Felix to a table in the corner.
He lowers himself into the leather chair, propping his ankle on his knee as he drags a hand through his chestnut hair. I missed him.
“So, want to tell me how you developed a full on drug problem?” He asks, tilting his head to the side.
Oh, here we fucking go.
After spending hours convincing Felix that I am not a drug addict, or perhaps just a temporary drug addict, I come home to find Milly wrapped in a duvet on the sofa, watching Snatch. Brad Pitt with an Irish accent—never gets old.
We’re staying in her parents flat in London. They live in The Cotswolds most of the time but her father keeps a flat here for business. Needless to say, I’m not going back to my parents’ house. Milly’s parents love me, probably because they’re drunk most of the time, but hey, they know how to have a good time.
I’ve barely put my bag down when there’s loud banging on the door. What now?
I open it and find my mother standing on the other side. “You couldn’t even have called to say you were coming back?” She snaps, pushing into the flat. She’s wearing her uniform, Chanel suit and heels, her hair pulled into a perfect French twist. If there is one thing Annabelle McQueen can be relied upon for, it’s her immaculate presentation and the stick that’s permanently shoved up her arse.
“Mother.” I grate.
“Hey, Annabelle. Um, I’ll just…go.” Milly hops up, retreating to her room with an apologetic glan
ce my way.
“This is a PR nightmare!” She screeches. “And then your father sent the car for you, and you disrespect Charles in front of all those cameras!” She turns her piercing glare on me, and I instinctively want to shrink away from it, but I don’t.
“Nice to see you too, Mother. Now if you’d please, I have a hangover.” I actually don’t for once. I open the door and wait for her to leave.
She takes slow steps towards me, closing the space between us. “I gave you everything, Blake, and yet you continue to throw it all away. You’re a bitter disappointment.”
I laugh. “I haven’t got pregnant, caught AIDS, or got arrested yet…well, okay, I haven’t spent a night in a cell. Technically there was that little possession charge.”
Her face turns bright red as she steels her shoulders. “If you talk to the press...”
“Yes, yes, you’ll cut me off. You should really change the speech Mother, and honestly, we both know you won’t cut me off. You know I’ll have my tits out and my legs wrapped around a pole in about two point five seconds.” I smile.
“You’re an embarrassment to our family name.” She spits.
“Yep. Ship sailed. Now get out. The embarrassment needs to get ready to go out tonight.”
She huffs and leaves, slamming the door behind her.
“God, your Mum is a fucking bitch.” Milly says, coming back out of her room.
“Yep. What time are we going to Toby’s?” Toby is Felix’s older brother, his insane, hot, party animal older brother. He’d be my type if he weren't such a dick, but no one ever said that personality was required to throw a good party.
“You always end up on a two-day bender after you see that bitch.”
It’s true. My parents have this way of making me want to shove a giant middle finger in their face, preferably while face down in a bag of blow with my minge out.
She narrows her eyes at me. “Combine your inclination to make snow angels and his general lack of morals, and it’s very likely you’ll accidentally over dose.”
“Nah,” I snort. “It’ll be fine.”
Apparently Toby’s home for the summer. He’s been doing some apprenticeship in Brazil, something to do with his father’s company. Who knows? The Knight boys have every opportunity afforded to them. Toby is probably studying the art of fucking Brazilian women knowing him while Felix was bought a strip club. Some people get all the luck.
The second I walk into the penthouse I feel the eyes on me. Why? Because I’m Blake McQueen. The London social scene is tight, and of course, I’m the bad girl, the rebel. I’m the girl they say ruined her life and tarnished her family name. Good. I’d take a shit on it if I could.
The trust fund babies pout and judge, and it makes me laugh.
I sway my hips a little more as I walk to a nearby table, grab a bottle of vodka, and swig straight from the bottle as I continue on my way. I watch them whisper behind their hands to each other and smile as a couple of people snap pictures with their phones. That’s right bitches.
“Babe, you look great.” Felix brushes my hair off my neck and presses a kiss to my shoulder. I glance at him and smile, leaning back into his body. More pictures, more scandal. I love it, I thrive on it. Felix always says I live as a fuck you to my parents when the truth is I live as fuck you to everyone and everything that the upper class touches.
I watch Blake walk into the room, and every eye seems to focus on her. She moves through the room like she owns it, meeting the stares around her with that defiance of hers. She pauses and a mischievous smile plays over her lips before she picks up a nearby bottle and drinks straight from it as she continues to make her way through the crowded room. She drips attitude with every movement. The first time I met her, she was just a pretty girl with a smart mouth that I wanted to sink my dick into. Now, though, now, she’s Blake McQueen. That name holds weight and consequences. It also makes her fuck-you-attitude fucking hot. Whether she knows it or not, here, in this city, she’s Queen.
I’ve done my research, learned what I need to learn, and I can no longer just pass her off as a girl I want to fuck. Don’t get me wrong, I still want to fuck her, but I also have to catch opportunities where they arise.
She’s just…different. Wherever you go in the world, there’s always social bullshit, a hierarchy of sorts. But Blake stands apart from it like it’s all beneath her, not even worth her time or thought. She does what the fuck she wants and screw the consequences.
Felix walks up behind her and brushes her hair off her shoulder before wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her shoulder. She smiles and leans back into his body.
Friends. You cannot be friends with a girl like Blake, but then you can’t keep a girl like her either. She’s too wild, too untamed. If you cage her, she’ll just break out. So you’re left with what I can see written all over his face. Longing.
I study her every move, trying to work her out, break her down.
She looks up and straight at me, holding my gaze for a moment and ignoring whatever Felix is saying to her. She tilts her head to the side and those mismatched eyes seem to penetrate my fucking soul like she’s studying me. I turn away from her and run straight into some girl that’s been hassling me since I got here. She glances over my shoulder with a sneer. “That’s Blake McQueen. I wouldn’t even bother. She’s a whore.”
I laugh. “Ah, but those are always the best ones.”
She frowns. “She’s ruined. Her family disowned her.” My ears prick up at that. “They were so ashamed of her they sent her away, but now she’s back.” She glances at Blake again and I can see the jealously threatening to eat her alive. “I heard that her father has refused to even see her.”
Surely a father wouldn’t turn his back on his own daughter? But then the question is, would Miles McQueen turn his back on his drug taking, party animal, rock star fucking daughter? He is, after all, the Minister of Justice. For a man in his position, her antics are more than just a rebellious daughter, they’re his shattered public image.
I look over my shoulder at Blake again. Never has a daughter been more of a ‘fuck you’ than this one. I’ll admit, it’s a huge part of her appeal.
I walk away from the girl and head for Felix. I need to know everything there is to know about Blake, because well, what is it they say? Knowledge is power and preparation is key. “Felix, do you have a minute?” I ask.
“Rhett, you made it.” Felix smiles, and then glances between Blake and me. Her eyes lock with mine, a small smile pulling at her lips.
“Well, it’s been a while since I’ve been to one of Toby’s parties.” My father and Felix’s were good friends. Our families used to hang out when they were in New York, or we were in London.
Felix is one of the few people who knows my story, the whole story, the real story.
Rhett. The beautiful stranger. Or at least, he was, but now he’s here, in London. The way he’s looking at me makes me want to know every fucking inch of him, preferably with my tongue. I’d forgotten how hot he is, but shit, men like him aren’t exactly ten a penny. Felix and I might have to have words as to why the fuck he’s keeping friends this hot hidden away.
Rhett flashes me that sexy smirk and those gold eyes trace over my body, making me feel stripped and dirty and sexy. Damn, he’s good. Underneath the looks though is something else, an edge of danger that sings to me on every thrill seeking level. When he looks at me, he instils art lust with just a thread of fear that has me clenching my thighs together.
He’s a walking contradiction, a blade wrapped in silk.
“You wanted to talk to me, Rhett?” Felix asks him, pulling him away.
“Yes, I do.” His eyes hold mine for a beat longer before he turns from me and they disappear into the party.
“Who the fuck is that?” Milly hisses when he leaves, death gripping my arm.
“Oh, that… is hot guy.”
She rolls her eyes. “Way to point out the obvious.”
I sigh and turn to face her scrutiny. She’s barely five two, but with her arms crossed over her chest and a glare on her face , Milly reminds me of a terrier. “Hot guy, as in New York a few weeks ago. We did that shoot.” She raises an eyebrow at me. “I was wearing his shirt.”
“Oh, my god. The guy with the sexy voice. Yes.” She glances at his retreating back over my shoulder. “Well damn, I wouldn’t have kicked him out of bed for any photo shoot. You’re a good friend.”
“I know, I really am. And before you ask, no recollection.”
“Nothing? Not even a kiss?”
“Well, he kissed me before I left in the morning. Does that count?”
“Your brain is fried from too much coke.” She grumbles.
“Actually, that night entailed a bottle of Jack…I think.” I hold up a finger. “And probably some pills.”
She takes my hand, leading me towards the bar. “You recall nothing, and this is you, so yeah, there would have been pills and coke. But he seems to recall perfectly well, so much so that he already calls you by a pet name.” She says smugly.
“Nope. Already implies this is ongoing, and it’s not.”
“Oh, please. I can practically feel the condensation coming off your knickers from here.” She snorts.
“You’re disgusting.”
“And right.”
“Crass. Your mother would be mortified.” I retort.
She laughs. Her mother would cheer her on, whilst necking her bucket of wine. I pour a glass of whiskey and take a burning gulp of the amber liquid.
“I’m going to find Toby. Try and remain conscious until I get back.” She says sardonically, eyeing my glass.
“Well, you’re no fun.”
She rolls her eyes and turns away. “I’ll be back soon, then you can comatose yourself.” She throws over her shoulder.
