“Quit callin’ me,” I growl into the phone, fists clench, back tight, neck aching from stress. I’m sick to death of this fucking woman and her shit.

It’s been five years.

Why the fuck is she still fighting me?

“I won’t stop any of this until I get what’s mine, Mason. Mom was out of her mind, we all knew this, so her giving everything to you isn’t fair and I’ll fight it until someone sees I deserve at least half, or at least all that expensive antique jewelry she left you.”

“Over my dead fuckin’ body will you get your hands on Mom’s jewelry. You did nothin’ to help her when she was sick, not a fuckin’ thing. You’re entitled to fuck all.”

“I’m her child too, Mason. I’m entitled to things purely because of that.”

I growl, low and deep. “When the fuck did you become such a cold-hearted monster? It makes me cringe knowin’ I call you sister.”

She laughs, low and bitter. “I couldn’t care less what you think of me, Mason. I honestly don’t give two fucks. I care only about what’s mine. You have the house, and the car, and everything that came with it. I’m here, working two jobs, trying to survive while you’re out there riding around on your motorcycle in your pathetic little club, living the dream.”

I scoff, and my blood fucking boils. Fuck her. Fuck her so fucking hard. “Livin’ the fuckin’ dream? Who the fuck took care of Mom for five fuckin’ years when it got bad? That would be me. I saw you only a handful of times durin’ that, and you decided it was too hard, now you want a cut of it. Fuck no. Not my problem you spend all your money on makin’ yourself look better. If you saved it, you wouldn’t struggle.”

“Fuck you!” she spits. “I’m entitled to do things that make me happy, too. Not everything comes easily; some of us actually have to work for what we have.”

“If you didn’t fuck everythin’ that moves and found yourself a decent man, probably wouldn’t have that problem.”

“Get stuffed, Mason,” she snaps. “If you didn’t take half of what was rightfully mine, I wouldn’t have any problems, but you’re greedy and selfish, and my lawyer will get what I’m entitled to. We will fight this until there is nothing left to fight.”

“Go for it,” I growl. “Fuckin’ enjoy wastin’ more of that money you don’t fuckin’ have, because you’ll never get a thing of me, and you’ll never get the satisfaction of havin’ anything of Mom’s. Not a fuckin’ bit of it.”

“If Dad didn’t leave it all to her when he died, you wouldn’t have any of it. He loved me the most. He would have given it all to me.”

I laugh, low and so fucking bitter even I feel the emptiness radiating through my soul. “Dad didn’t love you the most. He fuckin’ loved Mom the most.”

Then I hang up the phone, tossing it across the room and panting with anger. Fuck her. She’s so god damned selfish. Materialistic bitch. I turn and storm into the kitchen, going straight to the cupboard and opening up a new bottle of scotch, then I walk through the house and out onto the massive back verandah that overlooks the pool.

I glance down and see Saskia in the garden. She told me she likes gardening and that she’ll tend to it as well as clean my house and make my food—for extra, of course.

Starting to see it was the best choice I made.

She’s wearing a pair of tight denim shorts that cup her ass cheeks so hard there is a bulge hanging out the bottom. It looks fucking incredible, the curviest asses are the best, and she’s the definition of curvy. Her tanned legs glisten in the sun, and I let my eyes run up them, fucking slowly. I stop at her slender back and keep going up until I see her thick dark hair pulled up into a ponytail. She’s wearing a cap, but her body, her look, everything about her makes my dick throb.

She’s a fucking sassy, strong, independent woman.

Unlike most of the girls I meet.

She’s not afraid of who she is, and she’s not afraid to let you know it, either.

She turns after tossing a branch she just cut off a tree and notices me on the deck, staring down at her. She squints her eyes and then crosses her arms. Full of sass. Fucking chock full of it. She starts sauntering over to me, past the pool, and to the bottom of the stairs that lead up onto the deck.

“What’s with the long face?”

I grunt.

Not afraid to say what she’s thinking, that’s for sure.

“That’s just my face.”

She grins, and fuck me, those lips, plump and full, I want to fucking push my cock past them, slowly, to feel the way they’d softly glide against it. My dick throbs, and I put my glass against my lap to try and cool it down. I need to get laid, fucking fast. Otherwise, being around this girl is going to hurt.

A fucking lot.

“Figures,” she says, uncrossing her arms and throwing her hands onto her hips. Her breasts jut out in her tank top, and her skin glistens with sweat. Fuck me. “You always day drink?”

“It’s Saturday.”

She raises her brows. “That wasn’t what I asked you, genius.”

I glare at her.

She smiles at me.

“Have you always been such a happy man? I mean, it’s so pleasant to be around you. If happiness had a face, it would be yours. When I’m near you, it feels like I’m just radiating sunshine, you know?”

Fucking smart ass little bitch.

“Does your sass ever fuckin’ get you anywhere?”

She raises her brows. “What sass? I don’t know what you’re talking about. This is just me ...”

I exhale.

“How did you afford all of this, anyway?” she asks, leaning her hip against the railing.

“Do I look like I want to chat?” I mutter.

She ignores that. “It’s nice, but you’re so young. How come there is no woman here with you? Seems like a woman’s doing.”

“If I wanted to hire a friend, I would have stated that on the ad.”

Her eyes meet mine, and she blinks those big fucking lashes. “Oh, we’re not friends. You should see how nicely I treat my friends. If we were friends, I’d be up there drinking with you. No. Don’t flatter yourself. I don’t make friends with grumpy people. Too draining.”

I exhale again. “Do you always talk so much?”

She smiles again, fucking beautiful, god damn her. “Oh, yeah, definitely. You’ll get used to it.”

“Rather not.”

She ignores that and continues on, “Do you have a girlfriend?”

I glare at her again; she is unfazed. “Considering I just hired a maid, I think we both know the answer to that.”

“Well, I mean, technically we don’t. You could have a girlfriend who might like to live the expensive life and is incapable of doing anything herself. There are plenty of those out there. Seems like the type of girl you’d go for, too. Considering your lack of communication skills and all.”

I swallow some scotch and continue to blankly stare at her. “Are you done?”

“Wasn’t quite finished, no.” She crosses her arms again. “What about kids, do you have kids?”

“Jesus Christ.”

“That’s a no then, probably for the best. I can’t imagine the world could take any more moody little Masons.”

She giggles at her own joke, and the sound is fucking lovely. Damn her for being so fucking cute.

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re fuckin’ annoyin’? I hired you to work, not to talk.”

“Often,” she says, nodding. “I’d rather be annoying then bitter, you know? You should try it sometime. Talking is good for the soul and all that.”

“Rather cut my own tongue out.”

“I’d pay to see that.”

I growl. “Get back to work.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be at the club or something?”

I run my hand down my face and groan. “Fuck me. Do you do anythin’ you’re told?”

She blinks at me. “I’m getting to it, keep your shirt on.”

“Yes, I’m supposed to be at the club, I’ll go soon just to get away from your excessive talkin’.”

She flashes me a killer smile. “Good, your attitude is draining, I won’t lie. But, I think so far our time together has been rather successful.”

I deadpan her.

She keeps smiling.

Always fucking smiling.

“First time I’ve had a conversation with you, hardly counts as successful.”

She shrugs. “Well, you haven’t complained yet about my work, so I must be doing okay.”

“It’s your second day.”

“Goals, Mason. Goals.”

She spins around and saunters back to the garden, continuing her chopping and tossing. I stare at her for a few moments more then shake my head.

Pain in my ass.

Big time.

~*~*~*~