Page 153 of Lavish
She didn’t turn.
“Miles Davis. Etta. A little Donny Hathaway? You’ve been hiding this side of you.”
Then slowly she turned and saw me.
“Well, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised to see you,” she said coolly, standing to her full height. “Sothat’swhat this is.”
I held up the bottle of Riesling and offered her a smile. “I figured you were running low.”
Behind her, I caught sight of the small marble statue on the mantel—the camera Dante had placed there. I moved toward it with practiced ease, crossing in front of the velvet-draped table set for two.
“Isn’t Dante a littleyoungfor you?” I asked.
Jenese shrugged, pushing up her boobs. “Age is a state of mind. It’s a good thing you’re here. I wrote another chapterof the manuscript. But before that, I need your help with something else?—”
“There was a time,” I said softly, “when I craved your approval so badly, I would’ve done anything for it. Because I thought that’s what I needed to succeed.”
Jenese’s face hardened.
“But I’ve outgrown you,” I said. “Whatever game you were playing—whatever void I was trying to fill with you—it ends tonight.”
“Nowyou have self-esteem?” She raised a brow, crossing her arms with a dark expression.
“No. What I have now is clarity.”
She gave a bitter laugh. “You’re not as sharp as you think, Serena. You really thought I wouldn’t keep a copy of everything you’ve done? You werepatheticback then. I cared. I molded you, not even your own mother wanted to. How can a girl with opportunities people wouldkillfor be so insecure and jealous? You’re still that same little girl, no matter how big you’re acting now. It won’t ever change, honey, you just aren’t the type of person people care about.”
“Give me the manuscript. Every copy you have, and we part ways amicably.”
Jenese laughed in my face. “You must be doing crack like your father-in-law.”
“I’m not here to beg,” I said. “I’m offering you a courtesy. But if you want to play—fine.” I pulled out the photo Dante gave me.
Her face fell. “A picture is not going to scare me.”
“I’ll leak it,” I said. “That photo, everything we’ve done—I send it all. Not just to the press. But to every man you’ve charmed. Every politician you’ve lied to. Every investor. Every husband.”
Her breath caught. She hid it well. But I heard it.
“You’re bluffing.”
“I don’t work for King Developments anymore, so what happens to me is whatever. I can’t be your cash cow anymore.”
“I’m not leaving without the Harrington estate,” she said, eyes glinting. “My partner needs that property. Badly.”
I froze.
“Your what?”
“Did you really think I was working alone this whole time? No, sugar. You were never the only one.” She shook her head. “Give it to me. Now.”
“This photo isn’t the only thing I have on you, Jenese. Just bow out gracefully. Don’t go out pitiful.” I gave her a look of disgust. “You’ve been played.”
Something unhinged in her face. Then she lunged.
I barely had time to brace before she slammed into me, fingers clawing at the photo. We crashed against the dinner table, wineglasses tumbling, the edge of a plate cracking against the floor. My elbow struck the corner hard, and I hissed, but I held on to the photo like it was my last weapon.
“Let me go!” I screamed.
