Page 5 of Filthy Business (Obsessive Age Gap #1)

Iris

I smirked as I closed the office door behind me.

Warner Reid—high-powered solicitor and notorious womaniser.

He hadn’t disappointed.

This was all far easier than I’d anticipated.

Magnus Lucas Trentham was like putty in my hands. My nights of watching him were nearly over.

I walked into the ladies’ bathroom and checked my makeup. My lips were still red, my hair was still sharp, and my eyes were gleaming.

Mary Palmer.

I snickered, biting back a full laugh.

He’d moved out of his marital home. His relationship with his son was fractured beyond repair. He was ripe. Ripe and ready to be plucked.

Watching him night after night, sprawled across his chaise longue like a distressed Victorian woman, had been the most entertaining part of this entire plan. It was always around that time Mary Palmer came online.

I’d waited for this moment for eight years.

And he was always the key.

I didn’t know how much he knew. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything.

But the mother and son—they were the real rot.

Luke and Leona Trentham.

Thieves in pearls and cufflinks. A pair of parasites.

Icy rage crawled up my chest as I looked into the mirror. My reflection stared back—poised, flawless, unrecognisable.

I wasn’t that helpless girl anymore.

***

I discreetly unbuttoned my blouse. Just one button—that was all I needed tonight. I’d seen the way his eyes roved over me. Every time I entered the room, he looked at me like a man starved. One more button, and he wouldn’t be able to think straight.

I sat at reception, waiting for him.

Magnus was there within minutes.

He was even more attractive in person than in the photos I’d collected over the years. The subtle silver in his beard, the way his jacket hugged his broad shoulders, the tired, guarded look in his eyes—it was all better in the flesh. More raw. More breakable.

To say he’d become my obsession was an understatement.

This was one DILF I’d ride until kingdom come.

Every decision I’d made since I was sixteen had led me to this night.

“Iris, I apologise. I got caught on a call.”

“That’s no problem, sir,”

I said, wide-eyed, sweet as syrup.

God, it felt good. Watching him flinch every time I called him sir—

Like he couldn’t decide whether to reprimand me or bend me over the nearest table.

His hand rested on my lower back as he guided me outside into the bustling London streets. Firm. Possessive. Exactly as I expected.

I followed his lead, letting the pressure of his palm steer me toward his chauffeured car.

“Oh, I thought we were going to walk,”

I said sweetly as the driver, Nick, opened the door.

“After our chat, I decided to make reservations at a different restaurant,”

he said smoothly.

I ducked my head to hide my smile and slid into the seat, making sure my skirt rode up just enough to reveal the top of my stocking.

He settled beside me. Nick shut the door.

Magnus turned toward me—but his smile faltered.

A flicker of red struck his cheeks as his eyes dropped to my crossed legs.

His index finger hooked into the stiff white collar of his shirt and tugged.

Poor Daddy. Flustered already.

It made me wonder just how long it had been since he last fucked the whorehound from hell. Not that I cared. I was more than willing to do anything—and more—to ruin them.

“Thank you, sir,”

I said softly.

“Between student debt and the cost of living in London… this is truly extravagant.”

My voice oozed gratitude, laced with a touch of helpless, girl-next-door despair.

It wasn’t even a lie.

Not really.

I had a lucrative side hustle, after all.

His eyes snapped up to mine. For a brief second, something flashed across his face—a glint of interest. Or temptation. Or maybe something darker.

“Yes, I can imagine,”

he murmured.

“Please—order anything you desire this evening.”

He gently patted my hand.

“Thank you, sir,”

I whispered, all soft lashes and my best Orphan Annie impression.

***

The prices were appalling. I gaped at the menu.

I thought I could handle this, but I frowned. The gaudy gold chairs should’ve been a giveaway.

“Is something wrong?”

he asked, eyes barely lifting as he studied the wine list like a snob who knew his grapes by region and harvest year.

The wine alone would be hundreds—if not thousands—of pounds.

“These prices—”

I paused, but I couldn’t stop myself.

“I’m sorry, but they’re criminal. The owner should be arrested for this kind of markup on food.”

He stared at me like I’d just spoken in tongues.

And then he laughed.

Low. Husky.

It caught me off guard—until I found myself smiling along.

The warmth didn’t last long. His smile faded, and something softened in his expression.

“I’d forgotten what guilelessness looked like… until I met you.”

I almost winced.

Poor Daddy.

He really had no idea.

I was just one more person lining up to fuck him—with an agenda.

“Let me order for you. Is there anything you don’t like?”

“Frogs and snails.”

His lips quivered.

“It’s not a French restaurant, sweetheart,”

he said, trying not to smile.

Duh. Of course.

Uff.

Sweetheart.

My cheeks flushed, but I soldiered on.

“No caviar, then. Or anything pretentious.”

He nodded, something sincere flickering in his dark eyes.

Luke had his mother’s eyes but his father’s dark hair. He might’ve been considered handsome—if he weren’t such a vile little shit.

His daddy, on the other hand?

Unbelievably fuckable.

Salt and pepper hair, broad shoulders, and that delicious bulge in his trousers he always tried to hide from me.

As if I hadn’t already memorised its outline.

Yes, sir.

I’d had my eyes on Magnus Trentham for a very, very long time.

I had to play it safe. If he saw through me, it’d all be over before it began—and years of planning would be wasted.

But if I wanted their decimation?

I had to go all the way.