The Rake (Boston Belles #4)(76)

Whenever I intended to look for my spine and Belle’s manners, I should take a moment to find my masculinity too.

“She’d be fine if you marry five women. Simultaneously,” Sailor said firmly. “Belle doesn’t do relationships. Or morals, for that matter.”

“She’s never been in love,” Persephone said with a longing sigh. “Never wanted to settle down with anyone.”

“People change,” I said half-heartedly.

“Not this person,” Aisling uttered aloud my gravest suspicion.

“If you’re waiting for her to profess her love to you and you’re holding off on a wedding because of it, don’t.” Aisling put a hand on my shoulder, offering me an apologetic smile. “Belle Penrose only has enough love for herself, her baby, and her family.”





Fourteen Years Old.



Winter comes and goes. There’s a bit of a buzz around me. I win a few local competitions and even have a small article written about me in the local paper for breaking the county record, which Dad hangs on our fridge because apparently, being embarrassing is his main side hustle.

In March, Coach Locken’s wife, Brenda, gives birth to a healthy baby boy. By then, we’re doing the whole woods routine twice a week. He eats me out, then we kiss, then he jerks off before giving me a ride to school. One time, on his birthday, he convinced me to lick the sticky white juice from his fingers like they were lollipops. He took three pictures. I cried all night after he’d taken them. I still think about the fact they’re somewhere on his phone, and I want to throw up every time I remember it.

When we do it at his office—rarely—I take note that the photo of Brenda, which has been there before, is missing from his desk. He also takes off his wedding ring, but only when we practice alone in the woods.

Coach tells me that they split a few months ago. Brenda didn’t want him to touch her anymore after getting pregnant and said mean things about his job. Like how he doesn’t make enough money and stuff.

Coach says he wishes I were his girlfriend. That he could take me out to the movies, or to a nice restaurant, or just to hang out.

Honestly, I’m starting to think maybe this Brenda chick doesn’t deserve Steve (I’m not allowed to call him that when we’re not alone). Anyway, it makes me feel a lot less bad about our affair.

But then Brenda gives birth and everything changes.

Coach misses three days in a row. The third day he is MIA. In the cafeteria, two lunch duty teachers gush about how Brenda gave birth at a local hospital—which why would she, if she went back to living with her momma all the way down in New Jersey?

“Did you see the baby? So sweet. He looks exactly like his daddy,” Miss Warski coos, stabbing her yogurt with a plastic spoon.

“Yeah, Steve sent the pictures to everyone in the group, remember? And get this. He got his wife the best push present—a brand-new car.”

“A Kia Rio, right?”

“Yes. I’m looking into buying one too …”

His wife?

Push present?

I thought they weren’t together anymore.

On the brink of divorce.

I spend the rest of the day in a haze, forcing myself not to text him.

Ross sneaks out and buys me a bottle of Gatorade. He doesn’t ask why I’m upset. Why my eyes are red and my face is ashen.

More than heartbroken, though, I feel great shame.

I’ve been made a fool by this man, whom I put my trust in.

Something breaks in me that day.

Something I don’t know if I can ever fix.





Belle made good on her promise not to return home that night.

Which made me, in turn, call Louisa on my way to work the next morning.

Lou was staying at the Four Seasons, spending her days shopping and hoping I would get my head out of my arse.

The good news for her was that my head was inching away from said arse little by little.

Louisa answered on the first ring, sounding breathless.

“Hello? Devon?”

“Is this a bad time?” I rounded a street corner in my Bentley, looking for parking on the street. Underground parking seemed like a ridiculous idea. People had no business going under the ground when they were still alive.

“Absolutely not, it’s a perfect time.”

I heard the soft thud of a towel being dropped and the whine of a door opening as a fitness trainer in the background instructed, “Now back to downward dog position …”

“Hi. Hey. Hello.” Louisa laughed a little at her own awkwardness. I slipped into a parking space on the street and reversed.

“Is everything all right?” she asked.

It was about to be.

It was time to choose a person who chose me.

“I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner tonight.”

“Sure. Should I book reservations for us?” Louisa asked sweetly. “There’s an amazing Italian restaurant on Salem Street that I’ve been wanting to try, although I’m happy to cater to any of your diet restrictions.”

My father’s words haunted me.

Love marriages are for the great unwashed masses. People born to follow society’s thankless rules. You shall not desire your wife, Devon. Her purpose is to serve you, sire children, and look lovely.