“Yes, Boss.”
“I have to talk to the woman.Take me to LC Group.”
For some God damn reason he couldn’t get Cora Charles out of his head.He had strict, personal guidelines when it came to women.The only time he fucked, it was in a condo he’d purchased for that very reason.None were allowed in his personal space.No emotions, no seconds, and no white-picket fence.There was no point.Lots of women came into his nightclubs, so he had his pick of beautiful females willing to warm his bedsheets for a night.
He ruled the drug trade coming in and out of Los Angeles with the help ofLe Milieu,La Famille Lemaire.When the product came to port, Max Chevelier brought it sealed in art.Then he laundered his money and it was a very successful partnership.He showed no-mercy to anyone who defied his rule.Now, two thorns lodged under his skin.The Voclain and Cora fucking Charles.
Chapter Four
“Well, look who’s here.How’s the coffee, Mail Girl?”
Cora gave a mental sigh.Now it starts.Ranelle was the leader of the little band of merry bitches, always waiting for a chance to strike.She laid the mail down on the desk and tried to move on, but Ranelle had other ideas.
“Is your shirt really that color or did you have to dye it to match the coffee stains?”
Cora didn’t look down because that would give power to Ranelle’s jabs.
“Hey,” she said, snapping her fingers.“I’m talking to you.”
She looked up, and suddenly, all the fear and apprehension from Saturday night, boiled over.The nightmares, looking over her shoulder—it all came rushing out of her mouth.
“What is wrong with you?”she demanded.“You’re a grown ass woman acting like a spoiled brat.You know, you might be pretty on the outside, but you’re rotten on the inside.”
Ranelle crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes, and Cora got a bad feeling.She quickly maneuvered the cart around the other woman and continued delivering the mail but felt her burning glare scorching her back.Cora hurried as fast as she could to get off the floor and get out of sight.When she finally got into the elevator, she sighed in relief.
Throughout the day, small things happened.Water accidentally spilled across her notebook, ruining pages and pages of notes.During lunch, as she sat down at a table, something squished under her butt.She jumped up with a yelp and saw it had been a Twinkie.Several snickers erupted as she hurried away to clean up in the bathroom.Only when she went to leave, the door wouldn’t budge.It took twenty minutes of screaming at the top of her lungs, as well as banging on the door, before her friend, Betsy, let her out.
“Thank you,” she said, emotions clogging her throat.
“What the hell is going on?”Betsy asked.
“Ranelle,” Cora muttered.“She’s always been bad, but today is something else.”
“What a fucking bitch.”
“Hopefully, this was a one-day thing,” Cora said with a sigh, “and tomorrow everyone will have gotten their senses back and leave me alone.”
