Page 6 of The Heiress

Why she’s in such a hurry to give me Lorde’s address so I can take her ass down is the real mystery. Maybe she was bad in bed or insulted her. More ammunition for me to kill Lorde.

As I suspected, a flurry of photographers await me outside. They snap pictures on both sides of me as I ignore them, stepping calmly to the sidewalk and hailing the first cab to pass.

Usually, I would have a driver to cart me around the city, since Daddy is always going on about the Evils of Public Transport. (Cabs qualify, in his mind.) No time for the driver today. I have things to accomplish, complete with me taking out a wet wipe to rub down the leather seat I’m about to sit on.

Someone save me. The cab driver is looking at me in his mirror, ready for some conversation. “Dressed to kill, huh?” I glare at him through my sunglasses.

The man won’t shut up after I give him the address and we leave the pap-ridden street. I’m trapped in this hellhole for half an hour as we get caught up in traffic and the driver swears he’s lost in a town he should know inside and out. I think he wants to keep staring at me. Does he think he has a chance? Sorry, pal. I only date Greek life hustlers and the kind of heirs my daddy thinks are good for me. (They’re not.)

This whole time I’m thinking of something unsavory. Something my father mentioned about a month ago when he called me into his office and dropped a huge bomb.

Going to see Lorde Sheen isn’t about my pride. It’s about my family’s pride, too. I swallow and start counting bills as we reach our destination. Thankfully, I don’t see any paps. Then again, who knows how they’re hiding out these days.

After paying the ungrateful driver handsomely, I steal into the building, hoping to avoid any paps who might be lurking about. A doorman and receptionist both greet me. I can tell from the female receptionist’s face that she recognizes me. Sure enough, a copy ofThe Big Hellois turned over on her desk. Great.

The doorman hurries to escort me up to Lorde’s apartment on the third floor. The building is short and squat, a Mediterranean-style complex that could either be brand new or recently updated, who damn well knows. I didn’t even know they had Mediterranean luxury apartments out this way. Of course, Lorde would live here. Probably makes her think of California.

As soon as the doorman is back down the hall, I slam my finger against Lorde’s buzzer. And hold it.

Hold it!

“Coming!” comes a groggy voice. Don’t care. Still holding down this buzzer. I hope she’s internally screaming from theobnoxious sound. “For fuck’s sake! Could you…” The door unlocks. I finally pull my hand back and cross my arms, face as stony as I can muster.

When she opens that door, she will see the Queen Bitch of her nightmares.

The door swings open. She’s… shirtless.

My mouth drops open. Fuck it, I admit I’m gawking, because she’s like a statue carved from old Italian marble – like the old shit my mother dragged me to see when we visited her country of birth. Lorde’s tight sports bra is holding on for dear life to those shoulders while drawingallof my attention to her pushed-up cleavage. And those abs?

Those god-damned abs?

Fucking.Delicious.

“Eyes up here,” she says, leaning in her doorway. I raise my flushed cheeks to her face. She’s wearing jeans, low-slung on her hips, and that perpetual grin is driving me crazy.

What kind of crazy? That I do not wish to admit.

“Well, well, well.” Lorde matches my crossed arms, covering her sports bra. Naturally, this flexes more than a few muscles. Kill me. “What a lovely surprise this is.”

Chapter 4

Daisy

Curses speckle my lips as I shove my way into her apartment. Lorde Sheen will not be showing me the exit today. I’ve got a new asshole to rip this piece of work, and…

Is it warm in this apartment? It’s warm in this apartment. I think steam might be exuding from my skin.

Oh, wait. That’s her skin. Apparently, she has emerged from the shower. A towel litters the floor and that thick hair is sopping wet. Are those water droplets on her chest?

Hello, there.

No! No hellos!

Lorde strolls in behind me, closing the front door with a soft click. “I take it you saw the article.” Her cheeks keep puffing out in contained laughter. She looks like a squirrel who thinks she’s oh-so-funny.

“You bet your ass I saw it!” Volume? Tone? Who cares about either? With a few short words, Lorde has me riled up again.Doesn’t take much! “What the hell were you thinking? How could you fucking do this to me? What have I done to you?”

I don’t want to showcase the panic and anger inside of me, but when I get emotional, it’s almost impossible. To think, my doctor put me on birth control back in high school to help me with this. I think it’s time to switch brands.

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