Page 59 of Tempt Her

Phyllis spawned Gentry. Like Mother in the horror movie “Alien”; you think Gentry’s bad? Phyllis is the OG monster. She’d rather eat my head for breakfast.

“Speaking of being cold.” Stirring my coffee with a silver spoon, I try so hard. “I want to surprise Gentry for his birthday. I want to update his yacht’s interior. The cushions are showing wear, and he’s been saying lately that the A/C isn’t good enough. Think you can help me? Can he use your yacht while I surprise him? If we can figure out a way to make a temporary switch?”

Her inflated lips try to purse so tight; it’s like I shoved a lemon up her ass.

Still, there’s nothing she wouldn’t do for her only child. Even though she secretly resents the shit out of him.

When Gentry’s dad died, Phyllis discovered his will mandated that his entire fortune bypass her and be left to their son. Like they’re the damn royal family of Hilton Head Island, where only men can rule.

Phyllis managed the estate until Gentry turned eighteen, making smart buys of rental properties. But once Gentry got his young hands on it? Phyllis now lives off of the Evans name and the generous allowance Gentry pays her monthly for her role as an “Acquisitions Consultant.”

“He won’t part with his yacht, and you know it,” she hisses, “especially during his busiest tour season.”

Ah, yes, Gentry’s golf tours.

That’s not all he’s selling.

I’m figuring it out; with all Cade can’t tell me about an ongoing investigation; she’s smart. She says just enough for me to help put the puzzle together though pieces are missing.

The biggest piece of all?

The money.

That’s what we need to find to bring Gentry down. He’s too smart to get caught otherwise. Over the years, and with all his clout, he’s built layers of deception to make his businesses seem legitimate.

On the surface, they are.

Underneath, he’s hiding something. And it’s getting worse.

I can sense it in how he’s been acting lately. He’s distracted and getting paranoid—with good reason.

He can’t even stay hard for the sick demands he rarely makes of me now. The stress is getting to him. Whether he’s fucking my tits or jerking off to a nine-iron ass fuck, his dick deflates. That only enrages him more, and then I endure his verbal assault all night. With each cruel tirade, I’m not sure of my safety anymore; my molars clenching, fearing it’ll get worse.

“It’ll only take a week,” I assure Phyllis. Actually? It’s part of me and Cade’s plan. “I’ve talked to the owner of Marshside Marine—Silas Van de May—you know, of Van de May Energy. It’s all he does; fix yachts, and he said he can order the parts in advance and have it done in a week.”

Phyllis lifts her nose. “How gauche. Why is a man of his station doing hard labor? He’s a billionaire, not a boat mechanic.”

I shrug. “He’s the best, apparently.”

In every fucking way, according to Cade.

I don’t know if Cade and Redix will get back together, but Silas Van de May is fucking her so well; he’s healing her. He’s helping her let go of whatever pain keeps her and Redix apart. I can see the change in her. It’s good. And she said Silaswantsher to be with Redix again. Silas doesn’t believe in controlling love; he liberates it.

He reminds me of Mateo, so giving and bad, he’s good. Where Luke can be such a naughty boy and so fucking hot about it, Mateo’s like Silas, a sex shaman. With one word in your ear, his fuck is a healing ritual.

But this is my new ritual, my new plan with Cade: get access to Gentry’s yacht and search it; put a tracker on it too. It’s got to lead to more evidence because, so far, the house is clean.

Phyllis pushes eggs around her plate. She doesn’t eat; she judges each bite she won’t take. “Gentry needs his golf and yacht. It relaxes him. He’s under such stress. He won’t like your gift. It’s aterribleidea for his birthday.”

“Then what are you getting him?”

“A new Beres nine-iron.”

I about snort my coffee, spewing it all over the white linen tablecloth while I choke down my laugh.

Gentry’s mom is buying him a twenty-seven thousand dollar driver to improve his game.

Yeah, well, maybe that’ll improve his ability to come better than a baby camel spitting lately, as I fuck his ass with it too.

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