Page 19 of Addicted Lies

Billie

It’s been four weeks since I’ve seen Ford, and I’ve been craving having his hands on me. The more time I go without him, the edgier I get. It’s as if the moment my flight touches down, a spark hits my brain with the promise of pleasure. But it’s impossible for us to be together right now, not while so much is happening with me moving back and my brother, the biggest cock block in the world, is still here before he flies to Italy for business.

Ivy and I graduated. We found a three-bedroom apartment that we adore, and my parents helped me move my things in. Naturally, Dutton assessed the property to ensure it met his approval before we signed the lease, and I had him swear he wouldn’t buy the entire fucking building so I could at least have some kind of separation from him. I’m certain the only reason he agreed is because I silently begged Posie to intervene. So she swore him to allow me my independence.

I now nervously sit in my aunty Rya’s law office, waiting for an interview. Two men are also seated in the reception area, holding folders, and waiting patiently. One has the audacity to give me the once-over and sneer. Fucker.

I rein in my bubbling temper that has me wanting to tell him to shove his ignorance up his ass.

I’m not nervous about the interview itself; it’s because I haven’t told my aunt that I’m applying to her law firm, and I hope she’s not seriously pissed. I want to get this position on my own, and the reality is hers is the most prestigious firm in all of New York.

Rya should be revered as the best criminal lawyer in all of Manhattan, which is ironic since her family is part of the Italian mafia, including my mother, who is her sister. And although for years she’s been talking about semi-retirement, it seems she oversees all of the hiring.

“Billie, come through, please,” my aunt’s assistant calls out. I’ve seen her before, but was never officially introduced.

I can’t help myself as I purposely drop my pen in front of the man who sneered at me, then bend over, making sure to give him a good cleavage shot. When I glance up, he’s staring right down my top. I smirk.“You fucking wish,”I mouth, and he immediately turns a dark red.

“How dare y?—”

“Is there a problem?” Rya’s assistant asks, and he seems mortified. I stand back up and toss my hair over my shoulder.

“No problem. I just dropped my pen. Sorry,” I say, then follow her, smirking over my shoulder at the asshole who looks like he’s about to explode. I can’t help but poke my tongue out, and I swear I see his eyes glaze over. He’s totally about to fucking snap.

It puts a pep in my step as I walk into my aunt’s office, where I see two men sitting beside her, looking at what I’m assuming is my resume. My aunt looks hot as fuck in a black pantsuit, and her silvery eyes dance with mischief when they meet mine. Though I doubt anyone else would notice it if they didn’t know her well enough. Because right now she’s strictly business, with her hands clasped in front of her.

Her assistant closes the door behind me, and Rya points to the seat opposite her. “Welcome, Billie. Please, take a seat.” I offer a polite smile to them all as I sit and act as if she’s not my aunt.

“So, you’ve applied for one of the open positions here at the firm,” one of the men says as he looks up and seems to stare straight into my soul. I understand the tactic—the desire to make me feel uncomfortable. Unfortunately for him, I grew up around people who would literally make him piss himself if he tried that shit on them.

“Yes. You’re looking for a junior accountant, and I hope to fill that role,” I reply, keeping my back straight and maintaining eye contact. I’ve been raised in high society. An interview is a breeze, and I already can’t wait for my caramel latte as a reward.

“Wonderful. We’ll run through some questions.”

“Please do,” I say with a charming smile, and they proceed to do exactly that.

I flawlessly answer their questions about my studies, my experience, the job I had during college, and my ability to adapt in a fast-moving environment.

They seem impressed by my conduct and answers, and Rya doesn’t speak until the end.

She pretends to look at the resume once more. “And you have no other commitments that would prohibit you from completing your tasks here?” She raises a perfectly shaped brow as she waits for me to answer.

I understand it’s a question she most likely asks every interviewee, but I can’t help wondering if she’s referring to the “family business.”

“No, ma’am,” I answer politely, and she stares at me as if she isn’t sure of my answer. She was referring to the family business, wasn’t she?

“Thank you, Miss Taylor. If we decide you’re a good fit for the job, you’ll receive a call within the next few days,” my aunt says as she stands and offers me her hand. It throws me off slightly, but I smile politely and shake each of their hands, thanking them for their time.

One thing I’m certain about when it comes to Rya is that even though we’re related, she won’t give me the job just because of who I am. I have to earn it. And I like that. I don’t want special treatment because of my family name or the fact that my brother would literally pay anyone any amount they asked for in order to give me an opportunity. It’s nice and supportive, but it also keeps me from discovering how far I can get on my own. This is why I refuse to let my parents pay any of my bills and I opted to rent my apartment instead of buy.

I didn’t originally intend to try to get a job at Rya’s firm, but it just so happened to come up when I was looking.

I decide to walk around the city for a bit since it’s been a while since I’ve aimlessly walked, and I kind of feel like it’ll help clear my head.

I chose to come back to Manhattan because I didn’t know if I wanted to live anywhere else. Ivy was hell-bent on coming back here. She has dreams of traveling over the next year, but a part of me wants stability after years of the college life. It was fun, but I want something more. I want a sense of direction and purpose. One that’s entirely my own and not due to the pressure I feel from my family.

I know that pressure is all in my head, and they’re not trying to force anything on me, but my brother’s so great in everything he does, and I’m… average at best.

I pause in front of a bridal shop, seeing the dress’s reflection cover the clothes I’m wearing. Standing there, I wonder if marriage is something I want. I’m sure it is, but definitely not now. I want to fall crazy in love with someone. I want to be special to someone other than just my family members.

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