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Read Online Books/Novels:

Loving The Enemy

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Jordan Silver

Language:
English
ISBN/ ASIN:
B074S9S1N7
Book Information:

When Emily Bronsons’ daddy dies, this daddy’s girl and darling of the social set finds herself broke and alone, except for a mother who’s always been neglectful at best. She’s had to release the household staff and is down to selling her designer rags to keep her head above water.
She blames one man for all her troubles. The man who’d taken over her family’s business. The business that was supposed to be her inheritance.
Jason Storm is a businessman through and through. Having grown up lower middle-class, he’s always had a hunger for more. He certainly had no time for love and all its trappings and he definitely didn’t have time for the pain in the ass social ditz, who kept coming to his office with wild accusations of what she thinks he did to bring about her old man’s demise. But as time goes by he gains a new respect for the headstrong girl, who refuses to back down, even in the face of his renowned anger.
Can these two put their differences aside and come together, or is their mutual antagonism destined to keep them apart?

Books by Author:

Jordan Silver Books

1

Jason

“Bring her in here.” I dropped back into the seat behind my desk and rubbed a hand over my tired eyes. It was long past time for me to be home relaxing with a stiff drink, which was sorely needed after the day from hell. Instead I’m stuck here dealing with inept staff and this fucking public nuisance.

“Get your hands off me. I know where it is asshole.” Letting out a deep breath I braced myself for the shit show that was about to walk through my door. She came barreling in in high dudgeon, all five foot four of her, looking like two scoops of hammered shit. No one seeing her would believe she was the daughter of one of the wealthiest men in the world. Or used to be.

She pulled away from the guard who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else but here, I knew the feeling. I dismissed my men with a slight nod of my head and prepared to face the dragon. If she wasn’t such a pain in the ass she’d be cute as a button. No wait, her cute days were long behind her. These days she would be more aptly described as fucking gorgeous. If you could overlook that mouth of hers that is. Not to mention her rancid disposition.

She flounced her way over to my desk with steam coming from her eyes and ears and I waited for the lash of her tongue to get this shit started. It was always the same with us. No fake hellos or how do you do? She likes to just jump right in, barrels blazing, and not a care for her safety. I’m sure she knows, or has heard enough about me to know what I’m capable of.

Maybe she thinks that being female gives her a pass. That I won’t treat her the way I have so many others before her who’d crossed me once too often. Maybe it was time I disavowed her of that notion. She was fast approaching the point of no return and whether she knew it or not, I have no qualms about putting her little ass in check.

“You… slimy, manipulative, unconscionable piece of shit.” I didn’t even bat a lash at her. At least she was inventive. The shit she throws at my head keeps changing from day to day. Yesterday I was a festering sore on the ass of humanity, or was that the day before? Who can keep up with her shit? “Was there something you wanted Emily?” I knew my calm voice and relaxed pose as I leaned back in my chair would piss her off farther, and I do love pissing her off. She’s so easily rattled.

I took in her small frame in the blouse and jeans with the killer heels that brought her up to about five seven. I guess she’s trying to reach eye level but she’d have to go a lot higher to get to my height of six foot two. Her hair flowed around her shoulders with a healthy shine that showcased the blonde highlights in her ash blonde mane. She had bottle green eyes with dark brown specks… and how the fuck, do you know that? I pulled myself back from my perusal of her feminine attributes as she began this evening’s tirade.

“Yes, you fiend, I want what’s mine, what’s rightfully mine and I’m not leaving here without it.” Her argument never changes. It’s been two weeks since her old man died, two weeks since she’s been coming here like this raising hell and making a spectacle of herself because she refused to face reality. Why was she my burden to bear? What the fuck did I ever do to deserve this shit?

Until a short while ago I’d never even met her. I won’t say that I hadn’t seen her. You’d have to have been dead the last year and a half to miss her constant appearance on TMZ or one of those other televised gossip rags that followed the rich and clueless around like slavering dogs after a meaty bone. But it wasn’t until her old man died that I had got to know her personally. If only her adoring fans could see her now.

“We’ve been through this. There is no money. Your dad lost it all long before he…” I stopped short of reminding her that her dearly beloved had taken the coward’s way out and eaten his gun instead of facing the music when the Barbarians came barking at his gate. It’s the price you pay when you get caught dabbling in less than ethical business dealings.

“That’s a lie. How could he have lost it all? I know what daddy owned, what we had before you stole it all.” For a moment there a soft childlike innocence shone through her eyes, but was gone in a flash. One thing I can say for her, she has her old man’s strength and guts. Hopefully she didn’t inherit his penchant for shady dealings; the corrupt fuck.


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