His first instinct was to tell her she was off her goddamn rocker. Even with one foot in the grave, she was still up to her old tricks, playing with people like marionettes. And if it were just him she was trying to manipulate, Eric probably would have said so. But his family didn’t deserve to have their entire future ripped from them. Nina, to whom he’d barely spoken in ten years—What would her life be like? And as much as he couldn’t stand his mother or aunt, weak and self-absorbed as they were, they didn’t deserve it either. None of them deserved to be pawns in this Machiavellian game Madame de Vries was playing.
“Marry,” she repeated. “And as the good Lord said, ‘be fruitful and multiply.’”
The words rang through Eric’s head like the gong of the grandfather clock, chiming on and on. Any instinct he ever had for marriage died with Penny, seeped out of her veins and down the bathtub drain along with her life.
Eric just wasn’t the marrying type. He was more the never-let-them-into-his-apartment type. The screw-them-and-leave-before-it-gets-light type. And even if he weren’t, there was no one who would be willing to go along with this crazy scheme. No one he could stand long enough to try.
Except…one. One woman whose wit and audacity could possibly make this arrangement bearable. She was one woman in the world Eric could ever see himself marrying, even if it was just for show.
Jane Lee Lefferts.
A woman who completely and utterly hated his guts.
Continue reading in The Hate Vow.
Legally Yours
An Excerpt
It wasn’t until I was about halfway through the park that I heard a voice echoing behind me.
“Wait! Miss! Fuck, I don’t know your name, but will you just stop!”
I turned around to find Sterling bounding doggedly through the snow. He stumbled, nearly fell on a crack in the sidewalk, but rebounded with the reflexes of a trained athlete and caught up with me in a few more steps. A few more errant locks fell across his forehead, and I was faced with a smile that made my legs feel as if they were immersed in a hot tub, not the frigid New England air blowing up my skirt.
“Do you always go wandering through the Commons after midnight?” he asked as he regained his breath. “It’s not exactly safe. Especially for someone like you.”
I didn’t have to ask what he meant by that, considering my size and gender. Instead, I flushed, suddenly embarrassed by my idiocy. I wasn’t some hayseed from the hills. In my desperation to escape that house and the very disturbing effect that, well, this man seemed to have on me, I had done what every city dweller knows not to do: wander a public park at night.
“You left without saying goodbye,” Sterling said with a sardonic lift of an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name. Or what you were doing in my house.”
“God,” I said, finally finding my voice, but able to look everywhere but directly at him. Like the sun, he exuded energy so bright I couldn’t see clearly. So instead, I rambled.
“I’m so sorry about that. I’m a friend of Ana’s, your housekeeper. She just let me in for a minute but had to go, uh, deal with something in her room. I didn’t have any cell reception down there, so I came upstairs to find a signal. She had no idea, really, so please don’t blame her. I didn’t mean to intrude in your, space, truly, and, um...”
I didn’t stop babbling until Sterling placed his hands on my shoulders and bent down so his chiseled features were level with mine.
“It’s okay,” he said slowly, and I found myself rolling my eyes at his playful tone before I could stop myself.
“Sorry,” I repeated, but the babbling stage was over.
“Your name?” he prompted again, releasing my shoulders and standing back up straight.
It was then I realized again just how very tall he was. A frame that must have been close to six-four filled out a charcoal gray suit in a way that made me wonder just how much time he spent wearing a suit and how much time he spent at the gym.
“Yum,” I whispered before I could stop to think.
“Your name is Yum?”
“Oh, no,” I said, flushing an even deeper red. “Christ. Sorry. It’s Skylar.”
“Skylar Crosby?” he asked quickly.
I frowned at him. I wasn’t cold like Bostonians, but as a New Yorker, I had a deep suspicious streak. A stranger knowing my name definitely qualified as suspect.
“Yes…” I said, taking a few steps backward. “How did you know that?”
“I make it a point to know all of my employees’ names,” Sterling said with a brief, white smile. “Even the interns. Skylar’s a memorable one.”
Even though it was snowing outside, that was when I truly froze. The dots connected, and I suddenly realized who this was: Brandon Sterling, the elusive name partner at the firm he also founded. He was a legend in the office, but hadn’t been seen once by any interns. That in and of itself wasn’t unusual—we were disposable labor, so most of the partners were unlikely to take much interest. But even most of the junior associates who oversaw our work had never met him personally. He was a phantom.
“Oh, Jesus,” I breathed. “Jesus Christ.”
“No, just me, I’m afraid,” Sterling replied with another bright smile. “Although it’s a nice comparison.”
“I’m so sorry, sir,” I spluttered. “Oh my God, oh god, I was intruding on your home, and I really shouldn’t have. A friend of
