Title: DIRTY RICH OBSESSION
Series: Dirty Rich #3
Author: Lisa Renee Jones
Publisher: Julie Patra Publishing
Publish Date: 08.22.2018
Category /Genre: Contemporary Romance
Recommended for: 18+ due to sexual content
Grammar/editing: A – near perfect
Received from: Lisa Renee Jones (as an ARC gifted copy)
Goodreads link: Dirty Rich Obsession
Date completed: 08.19.2018
Description from the publisher:
Reid Maxwell is one of the top
corporate attorneys and one of the most eligible bachelors in New York City. He
likes his wins big, his women beautiful and in bed, not out, and most
importantly the deep burn of his past buried. Until one woman, a most
unexpected woman, challenges him in ways that might just destroy the invincible
Mr. Maxwell.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
DIRTY RICH OBSESSION is the third
book in the Dirty Rich series. Each stands
on their own, but with crossover characters.
I would recommend reading them all and in the order of release because
of those crossovers.
Take a moment; go further down this
page and read chapter one. I’ll
wait.
If that doesn’t make you want to
read, let me tell you that there are handcuffs in chapter two…. Handcuffs that
are threatened often throughout the book, but don’t expect that you know what
that means. I’m teasing you as much as
they tease each other because I think that if you follow my blog
There is humor, romance,
intelligence, intrigue, and family.
Sigh…. No, SIGH! Big, happy, heartfelt, loving SIGH.
Still, I think my favorite element
of this story was the unpredictability of it all. Even when Reid and Carrie were falling for
each other and some of that can be predicted in a romance novel, they are as
unconventional as lobster in your macaroni and cheese. Until you try that delicacy and wonder how
you lived without it in your life.
The best news: they are getting a second book, but it
doesn’t release until January. Knowing
Lisa Renee Jones’ books, it will be worth the wait! (After all, I waited 10 years between Stephen
King’s releases in the DARK TOWER series, what’s a month or four?)
Note: While I received this book as a gifted ARC,
my opinions are my own and are given freely.
Dirty
Rich Series:
3.
Dirty Rich Obsession
4.
Dirty Rich Betrayal (releases
09.26.2018)
5.
Dirty Rich Cinderella Story, Ever
After (releases 10.10.2018)
6.
Dirty Rich Bastard (releases
11.14.2018)
7.
Dirty Rich One Night Stand, Two
Years Later (releases 12.05.2018)
8.
Dirty Rich Obsession, All Mine
(releases 01.02.2019)
Also from Lisa Renee Jones:
Careless Whispers Series:
1.
Denial
2.
Demand
3.
Surrender
Dirty
Money Series:
1.
Hard Rules
3.
Bad Deeds
Inside
Out Series:
2.
Being Me
3.
Revealing Us
a.
His Secrets
b.
Rebecca’s Lost Journals
d.
My Hunger
4.5
My Control
6.
All of Me
Lilah Love series:
1.
Murder Notes
2.
Murder Girl
Poison
Kisses serial:
The Secret
Life of Amy Bensen Series:
3.
Forsaken
4.
Unbroken
Tall,
Dark, & Deadly Series:
0.5 Secrets Exposed
1.
Hot Secrets
2.
Dangerous Secrets
2.5
One Dangerous Night
3.
Beneath the Secrets
Walker
Security Series:
1.
Deep Under
2.
Pulled Under
White
Lies Series:
1.
Provocative
2.
Shameless
CHAPTER ONE
Reid
“You’re a true-blue prick, Reid
Maxwell.”
“Finally, something we agree on,” I
say, leaning back in my leather chair, the phone at my ear. A real estate
investor who just lost his ass on the line. “And my client likes that I’m a
prick. It works for him, not you. The thirty-day notice stands. We’re taking
over that complex September first.” I hang up, my gaze lifting to the doorway
to find my pain in the ass sister standing in the doorway, holding a garment
bag.
“Forget it, Cat,” I say, tossing the
pen in my hand onto the desk and leaning forward. “I’m not going to the party.”
“You have to go to the party,” she
says, hanging the bag behind my door. “You’re being auctioned off for charity.”
She stops in front of my desk, her dress a sparkling mix of pink and purple,
while her blonde hair is draped over her shoulders. My sister is a beautiful
pain in the ass. “Tonight,” she adds, stopping in front of me. “It happens
tonight, and you’ve known about it for two months.”
“I said no about ten times.”
“This is me doing PR for the firm.
It’s a big deal with lots of press. And you need good PR since our dear
uncle and father got in all that legal trouble, because in case you didn’t know
Maxwell, Maxwell, and Maxwell is a law firm.”
“Our father wasn’t the problem,” I
say. “That dear uncle, who isn’t really our uncle by the way, was. He’s dad’s
friend and I use that lightly. Our father’s an ass, not a criminal.”
“Like you?”
“Yes,” I agree without hesitation.
“I’m an ass, but not like him.”
“Your own very special version of
asshole,” she says. “Right. Check.”
I ignore that remark that. Where Cat
is concerned, I deserve it and with growing regret. “Cat.”
“Yes?”
“You write true crime novels and
your ‘Cat Does Crime’ column. Exactly why are you heading this PR operation?
You don’t work here. I tried to get you to work here, but you refused.”
“You tried to bully me into doing
what you wanted, yes,” she agrees. “And I’m heading your PR efforts because
obviously, you cannot. Asshole and PR are not two terms that fit together.”
“Well then, how does having me
auctioned off help?”
“Women foolishly love arrogant
asses,” she says. “You’ll get big bids and attention for the first. Bids for
charity which means press. That means, we hope, good press about you and the
firm. The biggest names in New York City will be present. I’ve already said all
of this. If Reese wasn’t married, he’d do it for his firm, too. It’s the most
eligible bachelor thing, and as you know, at thirty-eight, you’re still a
bachelor.”
“I prefer most ineligible bastard,
and as for Reese, I couldn’t give a shit what your asshole husband would do.”
“Is that right?”
I glance beyond Cat to find Reese
standing in the door in a damn tuxedo that looks like a James Bond costume. Shoot
me the fuck now. “If you don’t see asshole as the compliment I do,” I say, “you
aren’t half the attorney I thought you were.”
“I’m a criminal law attorney,” Reese
says, “not a corporate raider like you.”
“I don’t raid,” I correct. “I help
those who do, and in the end, the companies become bigger and better thanks to
my efforts.”
“Put your tuxedo on,” Cat says. “We
leave in fifteen minutes.”
My brother, Gabe, appears in the
doorway next to Reese, and of course, he’s wearing a tux. “Aren’t you pretty?”
“Prettier than you,” he says. “How
about a wager to prove it? If I auction off for higher than you, I get that
bottle of whiskey you’ve been hoarding. The Dalmore 50 Crystal Decanter.”
“That’s a twenty-thousand-dollar
bottle,” I say.
“And?” Gabe presses.
“And bring it on,” I say, standing
up and looking at Cat. “This is my last PR event ever.”
“It’s your first PR event.”
“Exactly,” I say. “Now all of you.
Leave. I’ll meet you in the lobby in fifteen minutes.”
Everyone leaves but Cat. “The good
press has already started.” She sets her phone in front of me, and I read the
headline: The blond, thirty-something hunks of Maxwell, Maxwell, and Maxwell
give it all for charity. I stop reading and look up at her. “Is this
supposed to convince me to go or stay here?”
She laughs. “Oh, you blond hunk you.
We both know you’re going.” She sobers abruptly. “Too bad dad won’t come.”
“If the idea is to get attention off
his misdeeds,” I say dryly, just as damn sober as her now, “then I think that’s
smart. He’s not a dumb person. He had to suspect what his best friend, who was
like a brother, was up to. I damn sure know what Gabe is into at all times.”
“Right,” she says, swallowing hard,
and when I see the way our father affects her, I hate him more than I already
do, but then, I’m just like him in her eyes. “You’re right, of course.” She
waves a hand in the air as if wiping away her emotions. “See you in fifteen
minutes,” she murmurs, turning on her high heels, gone in a blink, and pulling
the door shut behind her.
My phone buzzes on my desk, which
means my secretary, who too often and too like my sister, doesn’t understand
the word no. “Yes, Connie?”
“Carrie West is back on the line.”
That name grinds down my spine in a
way few could. “Get rid of her,” I say, “but tell her she gets an A for effort.
What is this now—the tenth call?”
“Eleventh,” she says. “She asked me
to tell you that one way or another you will talk to her. Should I give you the
rundown on her since she’s clearly not going away?”
“She is going away,” I say.
“Make it happen.”
“She said to tell you that if you
don’t take this call, she’ll be seeing you sooner than later. And I know. Make
her go away.” And then in a tart final statement, she says, “Yes, master,” and
disconnects.
Like that woman would let any man be
her master, I think, rubbing the back of my
neck and stepping to the window, overlooking a city now shrouded in darkness,
while city lights mark the inky night. Carrie West is a potential problem,
namely because I’ve promised to stay away from her. Not an easy task
considering she’s the daughter of a man I’ve ruined, and while my reasons were
not of my choosing, they were, in fact, necessary. The bottom line here is that
a debt exists, and nothing Ms. West can say to me will change the fact that it
has to be paid.
***
The event is in one of the many
five-star Manhattan hotels, in a ballroom with diamond-drop chandeliers, ice
sculptures, and waiters serving finger foods and booze. I’m in the middle of a
good three hundred people, and yes, I’m in the damn tuxedo. For two hours now,
I’ve been standing next to, or near, my brother and sister, all of us
“mingling” as Cat calls it, while women fawn over me and Gabe, assessing us as
bid-worthy. I endure. Gabe soaks in the attention, laughing and joking with
every pretty little thing, and everyone in between, that we encounter. He gives
off this façade of being one of them. He’s not. He’s just as fucked up as I am
for some of the same, but many different reasons. He simply chooses to convince
people he’s not. I don’t see the point. Why pretend to be what you are not? I
am who I am and no one but me needs to have intimate knowledge of what that
means or how it came to be.
I’m two whiskeys into the night,
which is one more than I’d allow myself during a negotiation, but I already
lost this negotiation or I wouldn’t be here. Cat won. And hell. It’s a
children’s cancer foundation. I’m not such as an asshole that I can’t be
softened for kids in need. I just prefer to do it in my own private way that
involves my checkbook. An announcement sounds over the intercom, and it’s time
for the “bachelors” to come to the stage at the front of the room.
I down the last of my drink and hand
the glass to a well-timed waiter. A lady that must be about eighty slings her
arm through Gabe’s and he lets her guide him toward the necessary direction.
Cat steps in front of me and surprises me by kissing my cheek. “Thanks for
being a good asshole tonight.”
I chuck her under the chin. “Just
tonight.”
“Of that, I have no doubt,” she
says, and while she’s smiling it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. We have a lot of
damage between us and it’s starting to cut a little too deep.
She steps away from me and Reese
wraps his arm around her shoulders. I work my way through the crowd, bodies
parting as I close the distance between me and the front of the stage. One of
the announcers, a pretty brunette in her thirties spies me, and she points.
“There he is. Our second Maxwell, Reid Maxwell himself.” Clapping ensues
because all of these people have had a great deal of wine and can’t wait to bid
on a date with someone they do not even know.
I walk up the stairs and take my
place with another half-dozen men, next to Gabe who leans close and says, “That
bottle of whiskey is going to be oh so good.”
My lips quirk. “How many women did
you promise an orgasm to drive up your bids?”
“Only the one I want to win,” he
assures me with a laugh.
The bidding starts, and fuck me, I’m
going to be last, which leaves me on this stage forever. “Opening bids are five
thousand dollars,” the announcer explains. “This is for the children. And so,
let the bidding begin.”
Bachelor number one goes for ten
thousand. Number two for five. Lucky bastard number seven goes to the same
eighty-year-old grandma that helped Gabe to the stage, and for a whopping
forty-five thousand. “You should have promised her an orgasm,” I murmur to
Gabe.
“Obviously,” he chuckles. “But if my
woman of choice wins, I’ll let you keep the whiskey, with no complaint.”
“And now,” the announcer says, “the
Maxwell brothers. Hunk number one, Gabe Maxwell. Do I have a
five-thousand-dollar bid?”
“Twenty thousand,” comes a soft
female voice, and my gaze lands on a pretty redhead in the front row.
“And there she is,” Gabe says. “Sold
for twenty thousand.”
“Twenty-five!” comes another bid.
The redhead shakes her head. She
can’t do it. Gabe looks at her and nods, telling her he’ll pay. She smiles and
says, “Twenty-six!”
And that wins. Gabe is sold for
twenty-six.
“You got your woman and it only cost
you twenty-six thousand dollars,” I say.
“All to help the children,” he says,
heading down the stage to claim his woman.
“And finally, our last man of the
night,” the announcer says. “Reid Maxwell.” She runs down my stats.
“Thirty-eight, six-foot-two, and two hundred pounds of pure hotness.”
I need another whiskey, and to
throttle my sister, I think, as the woman adds, “A
corporate attorney known as a killer in and out of the courtroom. Do we have a
five-thousand-dollar bid?”
“Right here,” a woman proclaims,
stepping directly in front of me, and holy hell, she’s stunning. I soak her in,
her knee-length emerald green dress hugging every one of her perfect, slender
curves, while her ample cleavage offers me one of many distractions.
“Ten thousand!” someone shouts.
The woman in emerald steps closer and
her eyes hold mine. “Twenty,” she says, speaking to me, not the announcer.
“Twenty-five,” someone else says.
“Fifty,” my little temptress
retorts, and she is a temptress up to no good. I see it in her eyes. She wants
me to see it, dares me to do something about it.
“Do we have a bid for fifty-five?”
the announcer calls out.
There is a silent moment or two, or
it could be ten. I don’t know. I’m too focused on this woman still standing
directly in front of me, contemplating how many ways I can fuck her to figure
her out, when I hear, “Sold to the woman in green for fifty thousand dollars,
and the highest bid of the night.”
I don’t move, and neither does
my new date. I have this sense I know her. She’s familiar and yet, she is not.
This isn’t a simple auction and a donation to charity. This is a game of some
sorts, and she’s confident enough in her ability to win to bid fifty thousand
dollars.
She’s wrong.
I’ll win, but I’ll make sure she
enjoys every second.
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