secretary rushed in waving a big message pad.
âWait, Mr. Barron!â she pleaded, waving a notepad in the air. âWait just a second! Iâm not sure you want to sign that just yet!â
Barron paused with his pen in the air.
âWhy? Whatâs the problem?â he asked, his eyes narrowed in confusion. âIs something wrong?â
âYour mother called,â the old lady panted, blinking rapidly. âI was in the restroom and I missed the phone. But she left a message. Sheâs in Houston. At the hospital. She asked me to tell you that your father is out of his coma ! She said heâs sitting up and talking! Praise the Lord, can you believe it? I guess yâall can tear up those papers and freeze the vote now because Mr. Viceroy just woke up!â
CHAPTER 9
P ilar Ducane walked into the kitchen of the Ducane manor and poured herself a small glass of orange juice. She took a sip of the chilled liquid, then shot a nasty look at her father as he sat at the table eating breakfast.
Digger Ducane might have landed himself a job at Ruddman Energy that paid decent money, but Pilar was still salty with his ass. Every last one of her credit cards was still canceled, and her father had put a restriction on the amount of money she could withdraw from her debit account each day.
Living on a tight string wasnât something a bad bitch like Pilar was accustomed to doing, and she blamed her father for causing her social status to tumble into the gutter right along with her bank account balance. She didnât give a damn about that little regular paycheck he brought in every two weeks because she wasnât interested in that kind of temporary cash.
No, Pilar wanted that perpetual shit. The type of money that rolled in generationally on the regular, year in and year out, whether you worked for it or not.
She wanted the type of dough that her relatives the Dominions had stashed away in nooks and crannies, under the floorboards and deep in the crevices of all their pockets. The kind of money that Barronâs dumb ass had practically thrown away when he signed those papers letting the board give that ghetto bitch Mink and her street-slime Dy-Nasty access to the Dominion family trust fund!
Just the thought of those two bitches rolling around in that type of free cash every year while she struggled to get her luxury shopping on and her nails done and flounce her fine, cultured ass around in the best finery that money could buy, burned Pilar up.
She had done a damn good job of luring Barron between her sheets and wiping so much good pussy on him that she had his chocolate ass stuttering and strung out, but no matter how good she fucked him and no matter how much she hinted around, dude still hadnât popped that big question yet.
Pilar just didnât understand it. Everything about her was prime and she knew it. Barron should have been hopping at the chance to marry a prize piece of ass like her so he could jump her bones every night. And hell, with Viceroy on his deathbed and about to slide into his grave, it was only right that a new generation of Dominions added some fruit to the family tree and stepped up to take over the throne.
And thatâs why Pilar had chucked her birth control pills in the trash and started lifting her skirt and letting Barron dig her out raw as much as possible. Because the way she saw it, the best thing that could happen would be for her to miss her next period and pop up pregnant. With Barron taking over as the CEO of Dominion Oil, Pilar and her baby would be laced for life. And unless Barron wanted her to bust up in front of that board with her lip and her belly poked out like that white girl he said was on Sugeâs tape, his ass wouldnât have no other choice but to put a ring on her finger and put a Mrs. in front of her name.
Finishing her juice, Pilar giggled her ass off inside. She was about to pull a gold-digging extraordinaire move on Lil
âWait, Mr. Barron!â she pleaded, waving a notepad in the air. âWait just a second! Iâm not sure you want to sign that just yet!â
Barron paused with his pen in the air.
âWhy? Whatâs the problem?â he asked, his eyes narrowed in confusion. âIs something wrong?â
âYour mother called,â the old lady panted, blinking rapidly. âI was in the restroom and I missed the phone. But she left a message. Sheâs in Houston. At the hospital. She asked me to tell you that your father is out of his coma ! She said heâs sitting up and talking! Praise the Lord, can you believe it? I guess yâall can tear up those papers and freeze the vote now because Mr. Viceroy just woke up!â
CHAPTER 9
P ilar Ducane walked into the kitchen of the Ducane manor and poured herself a small glass of orange juice. She took a sip of the chilled liquid, then shot a nasty look at her father as he sat at the table eating breakfast.
Digger Ducane might have landed himself a job at Ruddman Energy that paid decent money, but Pilar was still salty with his ass. Every last one of her credit cards was still canceled, and her father had put a restriction on the amount of money she could withdraw from her debit account each day.
Living on a tight string wasnât something a bad bitch like Pilar was accustomed to doing, and she blamed her father for causing her social status to tumble into the gutter right along with her bank account balance. She didnât give a damn about that little regular paycheck he brought in every two weeks because she wasnât interested in that kind of temporary cash.
No, Pilar wanted that perpetual shit. The type of money that rolled in generationally on the regular, year in and year out, whether you worked for it or not.
She wanted the type of dough that her relatives the Dominions had stashed away in nooks and crannies, under the floorboards and deep in the crevices of all their pockets. The kind of money that Barronâs dumb ass had practically thrown away when he signed those papers letting the board give that ghetto bitch Mink and her street-slime Dy-Nasty access to the Dominion family trust fund!
Just the thought of those two bitches rolling around in that type of free cash every year while she struggled to get her luxury shopping on and her nails done and flounce her fine, cultured ass around in the best finery that money could buy, burned Pilar up.
She had done a damn good job of luring Barron between her sheets and wiping so much good pussy on him that she had his chocolate ass stuttering and strung out, but no matter how good she fucked him and no matter how much she hinted around, dude still hadnât popped that big question yet.
Pilar just didnât understand it. Everything about her was prime and she knew it. Barron should have been hopping at the chance to marry a prize piece of ass like her so he could jump her bones every night. And hell, with Viceroy on his deathbed and about to slide into his grave, it was only right that a new generation of Dominions added some fruit to the family tree and stepped up to take over the throne.
And thatâs why Pilar had chucked her birth control pills in the trash and started lifting her skirt and letting Barron dig her out raw as much as possible. Because the way she saw it, the best thing that could happen would be for her to miss her next period and pop up pregnant. With Barron taking over as the CEO of Dominion Oil, Pilar and her baby would be laced for life. And unless Barron wanted her to bust up in front of that board with her lip and her belly poked out like that white girl he said was on Sugeâs tape, his ass wouldnât have no other choice but to put a ring on her finger and put a Mrs. in front of her name.
Finishing her juice, Pilar giggled her ass off inside. She was about to pull a gold-digging extraordinaire move on Lil
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