‘You know I don’t want your inheritance,’ she said, levelling Lysander with a look. He didn’t expect that. She tapped the edge of her envelope clutch into his chest to make her point.
‘You did your little digging– you might have even seen my work…’ Kiki raised an eyebrow.
‘Well two million Instagram followers can’t be wrong Kiki. Or should I say, Eden.’
She edged even nearer; she was as tall as Lysander in her heels, her lips lingered at his jawline.
Making him feel uncomfortable gave her a thrill.
‘Did you watch me?’ she teased in his ear.
Lysander breathed heavily.
She could sense the hard-on her stepson had for her, but she stopped herself from touching it in his gym shorts.
She pulled back.
‘I make plenty of my own money.’
Lysander put his palms up.
‘Hey I wasn’t –’
Kiki cut him off.
‘I did before I met your father, and I make even morenow. All your father did was afford me the time to work on my content. I don’t need a single Steinherr cent.’
Lysander looked at her, almost in admiration, because he had no doubt she did make a lot of money. And with that, Eden Roque placed her clutch under her arm and strode out of the Steinherr mansion, as free as a bird.
Chapter Fifty-Six
Emme walked into the Harrington home, sad at Tristan’s turn in tone and in desperate need of a change of clothes and a shower. She was crushed to see the family were all sitting around the table eating a late breakfast. She had hoped for some peace and some headspace.
‘Did you go to a sleepover?’ Harry asked, a perplexed crinkle in his ginger freckled face.
‘Those are funny pyjamas,’ Bella observed in a matter-of-fact way.
Bill looked up from his newspaper.
‘Morning,’ he said, cheerily.
Lexy looked like she might have a nosebleed and feigned a smile.
‘Oh, Emme’s home,’ she said, behind clenched teeth. A silenthow nice of herhung over the pancakes the maid had been in to make.
‘Morning!’ Emme said, as warmly as she could muster, her head held high, as she grabbed a glass of tap water and went to her room.
The slump hit as she got into her bedroom and closed the door, leaning on it behind her and shutting her eyes. She felt like a teenager who had stopped out illicitly, not a twenty-eight-year-old woman who had just had the mostexplosive sex of her life. What had happened to turn Tristan like that? Was he that sensitive about his father? What darkness was Lexy alluding to? The same nefarious motives as Cat?
‘Fuck,’ she said quietly, cursing herself for even mentioning Lexy’s psychodrama.
Emme walked across the bedroom, sat at the dressing table and scrutinised her reflection in the mirror. She looked tired but not as bad as she’d feared. She was running on adrenaline and good sex. She leaned in and examined her slightly red eyes. She must have only had a couple of hours’ sleep, such was the long slow passion of the night. She sighed, before there was a knock at the door, which made her jump.
‘Yes?’ she called, but Lexy was already standing in the doorway.
‘Rule three. No overnight stays out of the chalet unless previously agreed,’ Lexy stated, her arms folded. ‘Is that crystal clear?’
Emme turned around and looked at her boss. She was wearing her Sunday casuals. Blue jeans restraining her ample bottom; a white shirt that hugged her small waist. Emme took a deep breath, trying to disguise her contempt. Surely Lexy’s creepiness last night had led to extenuating circumstances.
