Page 74 of Off Limits Mogul

“That’s her. She’s the same gorgeous girl, but a lot has happened since she ran away from London.”

“No shit.” The words drop out of Arianne’s mouth, her eyes still as wide as saucers.

Chapter 16

Keira

Ilet out a long, suffering sigh.

“I’m bored,” I say to no one in particular. I’m all by myself, kicking back in the seating area of Rhys’s lounging pool.

I’m staying at one of the most luxurious mansions in Los Angeles, and I’m utterly bored.

I look around the stunning garden.

There’s nothing to do.

“Booze it is.”

I stand up, climb up on the ledge, and pick up the tray.

My tropical fiesta is going well.

Piña colada number two hit the mark.

I make my way back to the house, balancing the tray I’m holding with both hands. Rhys’s shallow lounging pool has become my oasis. I wait for the sun to move west before taking up residence there for a few hours as I soak up vitamin D.

I enter the kitchen, singing a song and shaking my hips. I drop the tray on the granite kitchen island and stride towards the refrigerator, still dancing to the beat in my head.

My phone rings.

“Oh my God, someone cares I’m alive.”

Between the time difference and my brother’s exhausting schedule, speaking to Noah has turned into a cat and mouse game. I hope it’s him.

I rush to the tray where I left my phone. A smile stretches my face as I answer the video call. “It’s so good to see your beautiful face again.”

Michaela grins wide. “Ditto.”

“Text messages are okay, but after living with you for two months, I miss the face-to-face,” I say.

“Sorry. Getting back to New York has been a big fucking adjustment. I miss Nepal. I miss my freedom. I miss you.”

Sadness veils her pretty green eyes.

“Is everything okay with your dad?”

She gives me a one-shoulder shrug. “He’s still allowing my stepmother to walk all over him. I hate it when he does that. I hate her.”

“I’m sorry, Michaela.”

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault,” she says. “On top of that, she’s been barraging me about my hair. And she’s nasty about it.”

“Don’t tell me, she’s unable to appreciate your trend-setting and edgy haircut?” I say, running my hand over my short hair that desperately needs a proper cut.

“Pretty much. She’s also fed up with the supposedly unbearable attitude I collected somewhere between Nepal and Thailand,” Michaela says. “Dear Step-mommy wants to drag me to a shop to buy a wig.”

“What?”