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“The Goodwins, they’re in pharmaceuticals,” I say with a shrug.
“How do you know all that?” Tallulah asks.
“They’re all families on the list, I know the basic history about all the names on it,” I tell them.
“Holy shit,” Carson says, leaning forward and taking the list from Arlo and holding it in front of me. “How many more of the shareholders are names off the list?”
Five minutes later, Olly has notes next to twenty-five out of the thirty companies on the list.
“So, most of the shares are owned by people who were hoping Carrigan was going to marry their sons?” my sister asks.
“It looks that way,” Olly replies. “And that works out perfectly for us. Once the world finds out that Carrigan isn’t marriage fodder anymore I’ll bet they’ll be happy to get rid of the shares.”
“So we need to announce it with a bang,” Tallulah says excitedly. “Maybe with another article or something?”
“What about a big fucking party?” Carson suggests, his body tense beneath me. “We can invite every fucker off the stupid, bastard list and announce that the money’s gone and you’re no longer available,” he growls.
Twisting in his lap to face him, I feel my brow crinkle in confusion. “Are you jealous?” I ask incredulously.
“Yes,” he snaps. “Four fucking years those bastards have been hoping to get at your virgin cunt. They need to know that money or no money they aren’t getting near you.” Then his lips find mine in a punishing kiss that claims me and makes me sag into his embrace as his arms tighten around me.
“It’s not the worst idea in the world,” Olly says thoughtfully, interrupting our kiss and pulling all attention to him.
“What’s not?” I ask a little breathlessly.
“Having a big party and inviting all the families, we can drop the ‘you’re not gonna inherit billions bomb’ to them all at the same time, and then the next day we approach them to buy their shares when the disappointment about owning Archibald Inc is still fresh and raw,” he says with a smirk.
“That’s actually sort of brilliant,” Watson snickers.
“Maybe we should invite your mom and dad too,” Arlo sneers.
“We can’t, didn’t you hear, they’re dead, killed in a tragic yachting accident,” I say, smiling widely.
Everyone bursts into laughter and somehow I think I just became one of the group, the kings and queens of St Augustus.
6
Carson
Watching Priss laugh, relaxed and happy around my friends fills me with contentment. I thought it would take months, maybe even years for her to become one of us, but she just fits right in, just how Tally did.
Her ass is still in my lap and my dick’s still semi hard, but I think maybe that’s just my natural state whenever I’m around her now. Anger and jealousy is still burning inside of me when I think about all those guys hanging around, just begging to get into her virgin panties
They can’t have her, and if I have to throw a hundred parties and post a thousand ads I’ll let the world know that she’s mine. A rightness settles over me with the thought. She’s mine, and I need her to understand it and accept it too. She’s mine and I won’t let her go.
We spend the next few hours chatting about the party, the guestlist, the location, and if we should leak the Archibalds’ death to the papers before or after it. The girls want to get into the house, so it makes sense to start the whispers of their parent’s demise first, plus it’s probably bad taste for them to throw a party a week after their mom and dad are lost at sea.
“We need to find out where Mom and Dad actually are,” Tally says, taking a sip from a glass of homemade lemonade Susan just brought out.
“I’d guess at either Monaco or Barbados,” Priss says.
“I’ll get my guy on it, he’ll track their credit cards or whatever, it shouldn’t take him more than a couple of days,” Arlo offers, lifting Tally off him as he stands and walks to the other side of the patio, his cell already to his ear.
Susan reappears again with a platter full of delicious looking sandwiches and an urn full of hot steaming soup. I feel Priss tense and I lift my lips to her ear and whisper, just loud enough for her to hear. “Do you need me to help? To take over?”
Her nod is barely perceptible, but I feel it and I bite back the growl that forms on my lips.
“I’m going to make you a plate and you’re going to eat it,” I tell her, the order in my tone unmissable. “You’re not going to feel bad about it, or think about the calories, you’re just going to enjoy it, knowing how much I love it when you do what I tell you.”
