After two years – three hours actually – I finally arrived at the Ardolf mansion.
My heels clicked on the marble floors as I strutted in like I owned the place. Well, since I had the owner whimpering at my p***y, maybe I did own the place.
The mansion was cold, even in daylight.
“Hey, Paula,” I said in a sing-song voice as I entered the foyer.
Damien's personal assistant was slouched on the chaise with a thin glass pipe between her fingers.
“Erica babe,” She said then looked up. “Back from paradise?”
My gaze swept over her. She looked even sicker than she did before I left the country. “Yeah. Saint Barth’s was a dream.”
She exhaled smoke that drifted towards me. I smiled politely, “Did you bring me a souvenir, or just the scent of salt and s*x?”
“I brought something better –conce
