A Gentleman in the Street by Alisha Rai Read Free Book Online Page A

his mid-thirties.
    Grab them young, that was Daddy’s motto. The better to manipulate them.
    “Sorry. I didn’t mean to singe your virgin ears with my unladylike language. I’m just expressing my surprise you can get it up, let alone have any swimmers.”
    “You…”
    “What?” she asked, sweet as pie. “Bitch? Whore? Maybe you should bring the cameras back in so we can film you spewing your pet names for me. Such a wonderful moment we’re having, when you announce new spawn. I’m sure it will be as big a dick as all of Chloe’s other kids.”
    “You will show her respect.”
    “Uh, no. I don’t think I will, Father. Congratulations, by the way. I hope it’s yours and not that hot young tennis instructor Chloe hired.”
    Her father’s voice was loud, a sure sign she had struck a nerve. “How do you know about the tennis instructor?”
    “There’s always a tennis instructor. At least the instructor is employed, right?” That’s right, Daddy. Remember I succeeded where you failed. Remember if I had inherited the precious Mori empire, it would have thrived.
    “You fucking bitch.”
    Bitch. Cunt. Whore. She should thank her parents, really. By the time she had become an adult, those words had lost all power to hurt her.
    She injected a note of false cheer into her voice. “This has been fun. I’ll call you on Father’s Day. Maybe we can go to brunch. Toodles, Daddy.” She ended the call with a quiet click, loath to give the fucking asshole dick the satisfaction of her slamming the phone down on him.
    Akira didn’t have to wonder if the birth of the newest Mori would be televised. The ratings would skyrocket, and her father could milk the pregnancy and birth and first year for at least three or four seasons. That was something the kid could look back on, a televised scrapbook of dysfunction. And these are my parents and siblings showing their asses on cable TV.
    She massaged the back of her neck. Of course, when the pregnancy became public knowledge, reporters would come swarming around, as they always did when something dramatic happened on the show. Poking at her private life, smirking over her house parties, waiting outside her home to ask her what she thought about her father’s “leaked” sex tape or her dearest stepmother’s alleged affairs or the ancient history that made up her parents’ acrimonious divorce when she was a baby.
    Being the center of attention was fine, but not when her dad was the cause of it.
    A knock on the door startled her. She smoothed her hair and straightened her jacket before rapping out, “Yes.”
    The door opened almost instantly, and a small dark-haired woman stepped in. Akira frowned at her. This was not her assistant. “Who are you? You’re not Kim. Where’s Kim?”
    Big brown eyes blinked at her. “Um, she’s on maternity leave, ma’am. I’m her replacement, Tammy? We met last week.”
    Maternity leave. Of course. Babies were in the air, obviously.
    Her assistant was in her late forties, and this was her first child, so of course Akira had encouraged her to listen to her doctor and not work up to the day before her due date, as the dedicated woman might have done. Between flying about the country and chasing down gorgeous aloof authors, Akira had completely forgotten the date.
    Akira struggled to contain her irrational dismay. She didn’t want this Tammy, who, while competent, wasn’t her assistant.
    Or her friend. “How long will you be working for me?”
    “The full length of the maternity leave, ma’am. Four months.”
    Four months hadn’t seemed so long when she and Kim had discussed it. Put on your big-girl panties. Her employees were absolutely allowed to have families. “I ought to send her something,” she mused, half to herself.
    “I believe Kim already scheduled a floral and gift basket delivery from you and A.M. Enterprises, ma’am.”
    Akira almost smiled. “If there’s anything remaining on her baby registry, buy it.” She