Power, page 1
Copyright © 2022
Power by Cassandra Robbins
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or scanned in any manner without written permission of the author, except in the need of quotes for reviews only.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, and establishments are the product of the author’s imagination or are used to provide authenticity and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Edited: Nikki Busch Editing
Cover Design: Emily Wittig Designs
Formatting and proofing: Elaine York, Allusion Publishing
Cover Photo: Michelle Lancaster
Cover Model: Richard Deiss
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Playlist
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Epilogue
Want More?
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Connect
Acknowledgments
About the Author
PLAYLIST
Unholy- Kim Petras and Sam Smith
Happier Than Ever- Billie Eilish
Rude Boy- Rihanna
Super Freaky Girl- Nicki Minaj
Heroes- David Bowie
Slave To Love- Bryan Ferry
Ring of Fire- Johnny Cash
CUFF IT- Beyonce
Unstoppable- Sia
I See Red- Bonnie Elizabeth Sims
Best of You- Foo Fighters
Cherry- Lana Del Rey
Ceremony- New Order
Touch Me- The Doors
God’s Plan- Drake
Sadness- Enigma
King of Pain- The Police
Love The Way You Lie- Eminem and Rihanna
Bad- U2
Angels Walk- Paul Westerberg
Can’t Help Falling In Love- Elvis Presley
Just Like Honey- The Jesus and Mary Chain
Endless Love- Lionel Richie and Diana Ross
JETT
Beverly Hills, CA
“Hand me my coffee.” I finish buttoning my starched white dress shirt and stare into the bathroom mirror.
“What?” My fiancée screeches at her phone and sits up. Her fake tits barely move when she tosses the covers off and stands, showing me her phone, as if I can see it from where I’m standing.
Reaching for my tie, I can’t help but grin. Whatever is on there is unleashing the legendary bitch. My cock hardens. Not gonna lie—seeing her be a cunt does something for me.
“Is the governor’s fundraiser tonight?” she snaps.
“Coffee,” I demand right back. Her dark eyes narrow. Licking her lips, she dramatically reaches for my mug, then sashays toward me.
My erection instantly deflates, not because Rachel isn’t beautiful. She is. At forty-eight, she looks damn good. She eats nothing but salmon and salads and exercises every day. Along with her dermatologist’s and plastic surgeon’s help, my fiancée could easily pass for mid-thirties.
I’m just a dick, I guess. Thankfully, Rachel’s on the same page. Makes things easy, uncomplicated. I get to have zero guilt that I don’t love her.
And she gets to have me. All my money, connections, power, all of it. That’s what turns Rachel on. That, and the fact she enjoys watching other women suck my cock as much as I get off watching her eat other women’s cunts.
We belong together, both selfish, workaholics, into making money and climbing the social ladder. Hell, at the rate I’m going, the sky’s the limit. And Rachel knows it.
Smirking, she invades my space and places my mug on our large marble sink. While I smooth my tie, the flowery perfume she favors makes my nose twitch. I need to discuss switching her scent. That, and her straight black bob. I’m sick of the Uma Thurman-Pulp Fiction look on her.
“So.” She holds her phone up again. “Jennifer just texted me. Apparently, it’s the governor’s fundraiser tonight, and Emily does not have it on my calendar.” She stares at me like I can actually do something about this.
“Did you text Emily?” Already thinking of other stuff, I reach for my coffee.
“Of course,” she says tightly. “I hope she doesn’t think she can slack off because I let her blow you.” Her eyes caress my face.
I grin, setting down the coffee. “You, allow her? Rethink your words, Rachel.” I cock my head. The morning rays from the bathroom skylight aren’t doing her any favors. Yeah, that hair color and style have to go.
“Jett, she’s my assistant—” Her voice trails off and she tries to touch me.
Not in the mood, I grab her wrist, stopping her. “If Emily doesn’t have it on your calendar, there has to be a reason. Before you get unreasonable, wait for her answer.”
Tossing her wrist aside, I reach for my suit jacket. Her eyes narrow on me, and she glances down at her vibrating phone.
“Be polite,” I warn.
She rolls her eyes. “You’re so obvious, Jett. Don’t worry. I won’t fire her until she fucks us both again.” She shakes her head.
I place my hand over my heart. “Aww, Rachel, you get me.”
The look she throws me makes me burst out laughing.
“Emily,” she says curtly into the phone. “Please explain to me why I had to find out from my friend that the governor’s fundraiser is tonight.” She purses her borderline-duck lips.
“Shit. That’s today?” Rachel straightens, her eyes finding mine. The look of aggravation makes me pause.
“No, I forgot.” Sighing, Rachel rubs the back of her neck and starts to pace. “Okay. Well, I still don’t understand why Jett and I are not confirmed for tonight. It’s not like my daughter is a child.” She moves the phone to her other ear.
“No, I’ll send fucking Maria to pick her up. Confirm that Jett and I will be attending the fundraiser tonight and make sure we’re sitting with the governor. Also, get ahold of Stephen for a gown. And Emily?” Her eyes dart to mine as I walk past her to grab my phone from the dresser. “Don’t ever assume anything. I don’t change my plans simply because my daughter is flying in. I do have a business to run.” She hangs up and tosses her phone on the bed.
“Un-fucking-believable. I will fire her ass if we are not sitting at the governor’s table.” Her voice grows louder and her chest flushes.
I nod and pocket my phone, not quite sure what to make of this. “You forgot that your daughter is flying in today?”
Her eyes dart back to mine. “I’m busy. You’re not the only one who works,” she grumbles, twirling a strand of her hair. It’s an annoying habit of hers. Bugs the shit out of me. One time, I actually saw her sucking on the ends.
“How does this happen?” I demand, pushing that distasteful memory away and focusing on the fact that Rachel has not once mentioned her kid coming to visit.
“How does what happen?” she retorts and marches past me toward the bathroom.
I grab her arm. “Your daughter is coming, and you forgot to tell me? Or yourself, apparently, if that phone call is true.” Her hazel eyes narrow on mine.
“Raven and I don’t get along.” Her voice is flat. “I was hoping she was going to spend the summer with her father like she usually does. But shitty Frank has impregnated his stupid girlfriend, so yes…” She takes a breath. “It appears my daughter will be spending the next couple of months with us.”
Letting go of her arm, I frown. This is wrong on so many levels. I have great parents. My mother adores me and my brother Brett.
“Rachel, you forgot your own child? What the fuck is wrong with you?” I almost start laughing because I knew she was a cutthroat, shallow bitch, but this is… well, I’m not really sure what this is.
“Don’t judge me,” she snarls. “You don’t have kids—”
“Exactly. I don’t. For this reason. But I think I’d remember if my kid was coming home for the summer.”
“Stop.” She sighs. “Raven is… different from me. We have zero in common.” She walks toward me. Rubbing her hands up and down my dress shirt, she playfully tugs on my tie. “I did mean to tell you. I really did, but with work and the wedding…” She closes her eyes, then opens them. “This sounds bad, but I just forgot.”
I look down at her. I’m no saint, but if my mom had forgotten that I was coming home for the summer…
“I’m late.” I remove her hands. Christ, her flowery scent is now saturated into my suit.
“Jett, I’m telling you this is not a big deal. She has a boyfriend, and she should spend most
“Please don’t be mad at me. This is nothing but a slight inconvenience.” She smiles but her lips twitch.
I raise a brow at her, shaking my head. “Whatever, I don’t care.” Because I really don’t.
She nods, then goes into wife mode. “Do you want me to have your tuxedo sent to your office, or will you come home first?”
“Office. I have a full day. And, Rachel?”
She looks up from her phone.
“If you need to stay and maybe… bond with your daughter tonight—”
“Stop, Jett,” she whines.
I snort and shake my head. “You just keep being you, my love.” Looking at my watch, I head down the stairs, needing to get the fuck out of here. I’m in court this morning, defending my client, a pro bowl player. Jeremy is being mistakenly charged with possession of cocaine at a party. It’s nothing but a jealous girlfriend trying to get back at him, a cliché setup… and that is exactly how I’ll spin it.
With a grin, I turn sleep mode off, loving the feel of my phone’s nonstop vibration as it tries to catch up with all the texts sent from my many assistants.
“Mr. Jett?”
I’m so involved in reading my messages I barely register the small, middle-aged Hispanic woman who stands over in the corner of the foyer. Maria? Mary? I know it starts with an M. She’s the only person Rachel insisted I keep on my payroll.
“Yes?” My voice is cordial. She takes a step forward, her face looking miserable, as if I’m the last person she wants to talk to.
“I’m sorry, but Ms. Rachel needs me to pick up Miss Raven.” She holds up her phone.
“Who?” I look down at my own phone to view the latest text from Rebecca, my secretary.
“Raven… Ms. Rachel’s daughter.” Mary sniffs and straightens her shoulders. I cock my head at her, then text Rebecca to hold on.
“Sorry, Mary? I’m a very busy man—”
“Maria.” She corrects me with a disdainful sniff. This does get my attention. She’s got balls—no one corrects me.
I grin while she continues to frown at me. Clearly, she doesn’t find my smile as charming as most. “Maria, yes. What is it that you need?”
“My car is not starting,” she states flatly.
I look up the stairs, wondering why she’s decided to bring this to me and not Rachel, but fuck it. “That’s unfortunate. Please take one of mine.”
She nods but doesn’t move.
“Is there something else?” I stare down at her, her brown eyes flashing as if she’s angry with me. If Rachel hadn’t thrown a fit about having her, I’d fire her ass. Instead, I plaster on a smile.
“Yes. Ms. Raven… is not like Ms. Rachel.” I blink at her. Am I getting a lecture from the help?
“Excuse me?” I raise a brow. There’s balls, and there’s full-on recklessness. Does she not know who I am? Screw this, I’m gonna fire her ass.
“Oh, Maria, thank goodness I caught you before you go.” My fiancée descends the stairs, wearing a tight, navy pin-striped skirt and white blouse. The relief in her face at seeing Maria makes me pause.
“Can you and Raven pick up Jett and my dry cleaning on the way back from the airport, please? I’d send Darcy, but she’s doing damage control for one of my clients.” She runs her hands through her black bob. Her stilettos echo on the floor.
“Yes, Ms. Rachel.” Maria’s voice is almost monotone.
I cross my arms, fascinated at this play of events. Rachel Stewart, the badass bitch who came from nowhere, who clawed and fucked her way to the top, creating one of the most successful PR firms in the country, is desperate for Maria’s help.
Why?
Maria is not even hiding her disapproval. It’s literally oozing out of her.
“You know what?” I start to text. “Why don’t I have Iain drive you, Maria?”
Both Rachel and Maria stare at me, mouths agape. “Honey, don’t be silly. Maria has a car.”
“Apparently not. Seems it’s broken. I’ll take the Tesla today. Maria, you go get Ms. Stewart’s child.” I smile, watching Maria. Apparently, she’s not impressed by my generous offer if the narrowing of her eyes is any indication.
Interesting.
Rachel reaches for her purse. “I’ve been telling you for years that car is unsafe, Maria. I’m shocked it’s lasted as long as it did,” she says and pulls out her sunglasses with a sigh. “Also, I know this is bad timing what with…” She waves in Maria’s direction. “But I may have to do a quick trip to New York.” She holds up her hand as if to stop any conversation from us.
“Okay, well, I’m off.” She nods at Maria. “Jett and I will be home late tonight.” She dramatically puts on her sunglasses, then turns and leaves, her overpowering perfume following her.
I look back at the maid, nanny… whatever she is. “How long have you been working for Ms. Stewart?” My eyes take in her face. She’s tiny but her frame is strong. Her frown lines make her appear older than she probably is.
“I’ve been with Ms. Rachel for twenty-five years.” She gives me a curt nod. “Where is this Mr. Iain? I don’t want to be late for my Raven.” She looks at her watch. My mouth twitches at her audacity. She’s starting to grow on me. Clearly Rachel is a shit mom, and her kid needs Maria.
“He’s waiting outside. I’ve told him to take you wherever you need to go.” I grin again at her. If it’s possible for her to frown more, she does.
“Thank you,” she mumbles and walks over to one of my original Chippendale tables for her purse.
“Maria?” My voice stops her.
“Yes?” She turns.
“Please put Raven in the guest room that faces the backyard. The view is beautiful.” She blinks at me, but nods.
Turning, I move toward the back of the house and grab the key fob for my Tesla.
For a split second, I wonder what this Raven looks like. Is she tall and reconstructed by plastic surgery like her mother? Christ, Rachel doesn’t even have a picture of her daughter anywhere. Isn’t that some kind of requirement for a mom? My parents’ house is piled with photos of my brother and me.
Whatever, with Rachel as her mother I’m sure she’s either a spoiled brat or a scared mouse. Either way, none of it concerns me. The girl is here for the summer; then she’ll be back in New York. To be honest, I’ll be surprised if I say more than ten words to her while she’s here.
My phone vibrates as I start up my Tesla.
“Talk to me, Rebecca.” And all thoughts of Rachel and her kid vanish as I start my day. There’s a reason I am the best defense attorney in the world, and it’s not just because of my personality and looks.
No. I live, breathe, and eat my job. The more demanding and challenging a case is, the harder it makes my cock.
I don’t lose.
I don’t believe in chance.
And I make my own fucking luck.
I love my life.
RAVEN
LAX Airport
“I hate my life,” I gripe at Cher, my bestie and the traitor who’s leaving me to go to Florence, where she’ll spend the entire next month with her family in their incredible château. Drinking wine, sunbathing nude, and—knowing Cher—meeting some hot Italian guy who speaks no English but doesn’t need to because his giant cock says it all.
God.
“Take it easy. And stop throwing me the death glare. I’ll be back in no time. Besides, you need to deal with Brody.” She points at me, then turns to flash the barista at the Starbucks a million-dollar smile.
“Thank you.” She takes both the coffees, the guy grins, and I fight the eye roll. I don’t want to be a jerk, but… come on, does he really think a girl like Cher would be interested in him?
“Why do you do that?” I demand as I take my coffee, praying my mother has sent Maria, or better yet has forgotten, and I can take an Uber.
“What? Be a pleasant person?” She smiles at me as we walk.
“Um, no. Be a phony and lead guys on.” I mimic her smile.
“Wow.” She shakes her head, then says, “You need to get fucked, Raven. Hard. I don’t care if it’s Brody or someone else. At this point, anyone with a hard dick will do. Get your V-card punched and maybe you can go back to being the best friend I know and love.” She wraps her tan arm around my shoulder as if giving me support. Which only bugs me, because she’s right. I do need to have sex. It’s all I can think about lately.
