Dirty Filthy Rich Men (Dirty Duet, #1)
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Read between May 1 - May 3, 2022
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“I didn’t want to notice you,” he said so quietly it was almost a whisper. “And now I don’t know how not to.”
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“Donovan said you were by far the person with the most potential in any of his classes.”
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Every touch of Weston’s felt like a betrayal, which made no sense at all.
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I’d accept a glass of bleach if it meant Donovan would leave me alone. Because that’s what I needed more than anything.
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can’t take credit for the apartment either. Donovan owns the building.”
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The space I’d slept in, bathed in, undressed in—it belonged to him. Why did that make my pussy ache like it did?
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“That's what you left Harvard to go learn at that little college of yours?  What was it called again?”
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I had a brief flashback to the class he taught in college, the way he jerked me around. The way he fucked me against the bookshelf in his office.
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So I took it. “Of course. What’s the celebration?” “Weston’s engagement.”
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Weston was engaged? What the ever-living fuck? Obviously, he was an asshole. And Donovan was even worse, trying to needle me about it, and no way was I letting him get to me.
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He met my stare and held it. Whatever he saw—my determination, maybe—caused his expression to sober.
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“After we’ve been married a month or so, we’ll get an annulment, we’ll buy the advertising subsidiary, and Reach, Inc. will automatically move up a couple ranks in terms of competitive power. We’re still a young company. This kind of merger is important for us.”
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I needed a relationship with him so I could stay safe from my thoughts and my feelings. Especially now.
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“It was Donovan’s idea. Everyone else thought it was awesome, though I think they’re taking bets on how long I can last without getting laid.”
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“When did you tell Donovan you wanted to hire me?”
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“I called him the minute you walked out my door.”
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that even though it had been Weston who got me here, it had been Donovan who had made sure I’d been single when I arrived.
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Because Donovan would notice if I didn’t come, and I didn’t want him thinking I was avoiding the event. I didn’t want him to assume Weston’s upcoming wedding meant something to me, that I was hurt or nursing wounds. I wasn’t. I was there to prove a point, and I didn’t plan on leaving until I did.
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I didn’t turn around, but I could tell he was close behind me. I knew it as sure as I knew anything. His presence was as heavy and thick as molasses, and any intention I had of leaving was immediately thrown out the window. It would be impossible to leave now. I couldn’t wade through molasses in these heels.
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“The way that dress fits you…” he said, his voice husky. “I see now why Weston hired you.”
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Once upon a time I would have let rich boys get away with shit like that. I had let rich boys get away with much worse. Not anymore.
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“I’m not sure if you meant that as a compliment, but I am sure it’s sexual harassment.”
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“Close your mouth, Sabrina. Though I love imagining ways to fill it, we’re about to have company.”
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“Oh thank god.” Elizabeth Dyson dropped Weston’s arm. “If I have to gush about him a minute longer I might have to throw up.”
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“I told you, Kincaid, this deal was really better suited for you and me. I can’t believe you turned down the offer.”
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Referring to Weston’s girlfriends as horses was not only misogynistic and demeaning, it was also just plain shitty.
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He said the word fuck, and suddenly I was there, back in that office all those years ago, pushed against the bookcase with his body pressed into mine. It was one of those images that had stayed hidden during my waking hours for so long, and now it snuck up, crippling me with its potency.
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Because, in that moment, I wanted to be beautiful like her. Wanted to be the beautiful girl he liked to fuck.
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“You’re thinking about it now, aren’t you?”
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“I’m not offended,” he said. “I usually spend events like this thinking about it too. Planning what I’ll do to her later on. Wondering what color panties she’s wearing.”
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“I’m not sure what you want me to say to you right now.” Donovan studied me carefully. “I’m not entirely sure either,” he admitted.
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I hung back so I could watch them without being noticed. She’d dropped his arm, and the two of them didn’t even touch. It was as if they barely knew each other, let alone liked each other. Honestly, Elizabeth and Weston seemed friendlier than Donovan and Sun did. Maybe fake dates were a thing around here.
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If Donovan wasn’t friendly with Sun,
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it was because he didn’t have to be nice to her to fuck her. And he would fuck her. I was sure of it. Who wouldn’t fuck her?
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I didn’t care, and I did all at the same time. He could do what he wanted. It made no difference to me. I didn’t care who he dated or liked or fucked. But in a different time, in a different place, I did care because back then, Donovan had stained all my thoughts, not just the ones I hid away at night.
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And he was going to fuck her. And I couldn’t remember a time I’d felt lonelier.
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More like I was a girl with dirty taste—a dirty taste in thoughts and a dirty taste in my mouth. Hopefully getting loaded on scotch would clean up at least one of the two.
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“You weren’t interested?” I took another sip of my drink, prepared for his answer to be flippant or cruel or for him not to answer at all. “I wasn’t hard for her,” he said flatly. My heart skipped a beat. “But you were hard?” “Yes, Sabrina. I was hard.” Oh, god.
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“You know why I have to be here,” he said finally. “Goodnight, Sabrina.”
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“Don’t tell me you have a grade you need to discuss.”
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“Dinner?” he asked, arching a brow. “Or do you mean dessert?”
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“The driver will text you when he arrives. I don’t want you waiting outside alone.” He met my eyes to make sure that I knew he wanted me safe. “Am I clear?”
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I knew everyone loved the view, that it was the draw to places like this, but I felt especially pulled. Maybe it was just because I could never get enough of being this high. It felt so hard-earned to be here, on this side of the world. At the top. I’d never stop believing I should have been here years ago.
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I was also unsure how we’d managed to make it to the main course of our meal without Donovan having said or done anything extraordinarily Donovan.
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“The pleasure is mine. Though I should tell you, I think you’re under the impression that this outfit you’re wearing makes you unattractive. It would take a lot more than a plain dress to hide yourself from me.”
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But there weren’t words for what had happened between Donovan and me, so I had to rely on the vocabulary that I had.
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“Probably the same reason I’m cruel to you now.” His answer made my insides feel sloshy, but I wasn’t backing down. “Which is?” “If you haven’t figured it out then hell if I can explain it to you.”
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I was complicit in the inappropriate activity that occurred between us, but I’m not that girl anymore.” “Keep telling yourself that, Sabrina,” he said sharply.
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“You mean so that I’ll stop. So that I’ll stop saying things and doing things, things that maybe make you feel uncomfortable, but also make you feel alive for probably the first time in years. But you know what the problem with that is? The problem is that the thing you really want to stop isn’t me, it’s how you react. And that’s not going to go away with research or alcohol or stern conversations. And no matter how many times you tell this story to me, or yourself, it’s still never going to change that it’s exactly that—a story.”
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I was still in my head by the time we climbed into the elevator together. The tension was wrapped densely around us, and it seemed to thicken in the small confined space. It was solid. Like a wall between us.
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