Page 22 of Crushing Clover

“How’s the girl?”

I slapped the envelope of money down on Warren’s desk.

“Alive.”

Alive. The bane of my existence.

Beautiful and impossible.

It was all I could do to stay away from her.

Clover. Ridiculous name. Ridiculous, uncultured girl.

The bounce of her wild red curls.

Her smile as she laughed with Lucky.

The body I longed to push under mine and sink into, balls deep.

I swallowed, banishing the thought. I had Lucky and Rush—I didn’t need the girl.

He laughed. The asshole.

“You haven’t managed to charm her with your winning personality?”

“She’s not my type.”

Warren’s next laugh was almost a cackle.

It was a stupid lie, except I wasn’t interested in fucking a girl my father had already stuck his dick into. Arabella had once complained about how he’d looked at her—thank god that was all he’d done.

“She cried so pretty for me when I fucked her,” he said, making me want to punch him in the face even more than usual. “How does she compare to Arabella?”

“There’s your payment.” I gestured to the envelope. “See you in a month.”

“What? Not staying to eat?”

I snorted and walked out.

“Was it something I said?” he called after me, clearly gloating.

The interest on the loan he’d given us to buy Cygnet was predatory, but it was better than the loan the banks had refused to give us.

Warren had been too busy to spend any time with me as a kid, and now that Mom was dead and he was taking a vague interest in me, I understood what a blessing having her as a shield had been. Mom had been quietly drunk most of my life, but at least she hadn’t been a fucking monster.

Five more payments until Cygnet was ours, and we could stop being so tight with our money.

Five more months until I could go no-contact with my rich, warped, asshole of a father.

Five more months until I could get the unwanted houseguest out of my fucking life.

Until then, I’d do whatever I had to.