The Rake (Boston Belles #4) by L.J. Shen

“Cecilia. This is my partner, Emmabelle.”

Cecilia stopped dead in her tracks, measuring Belle head to toe. I saw Sweven through her eyes. A stunning, self-made woman dressed like she was ready for her Vogue cover shoot.

“Hi.” Cece smiled, offering Belle her hand tentatively. Belle used it to jerk Cecilia into an embrace, hugging her tightly.

“You’re beautiful,” Cecilia blurted after managing to weasel her way out of Belle’s hug.

“Thanks! And you’re … holding a pogo stick?” Belle poked her lower lip out, her eyes widening a little.

Cecilia laughed, and I realized that she was holding a pogo stick. I lit up instantly. “We used to race in the woods with pogo sticks to make it more difficult,” I explained. “I won every time.”

“Every. Single. Time.” Cecilia groaned, mock-punching my arm. “Even after he went to boarding school and I practiced daily. The minute he’d come back, he would leave me to eat dust. I wanted to do it one last time, before … well …” Cecilia turned to smile at me. There was sadness there, yes, but no anger or malice.

“Already moving?” I asked.

She nodded. “Mum can’t afford to stay here. The bills are just too much. There’s no reason to postpone the inevitable. She is going off to London to stay with a friend.”

“What about you and Drew?”

Cece wiped sweaty locks of gold from her forehead. “Drew found a job! Could you believe it?”

“No,” I said flatly.

Cece laughed. “Yes! He is starting from the ground up. An admin assistant for a private bank in Canary Wharf. Can you imagine him fetching coffee and getting people’s dry cleaning?”

I couldn’t, in fact, but I was glad he managed to make use of himself nonetheless.

“I signed up for uni. I think I’m going to become a vet.” She smiled sheepishly.

“I’ll pay,” I offered. After all, Cece was not a part of Mum and Louisa’s plans for Belle.

“Cheers.” She reached to squeeze my arm. “But a bit of student debt didn’t kill anyone last I checked, and it’s time I do something on my own, don’t you reckon?”

Mum decided to make her grand entrance to this odd scene just then, walking out carrying a box full of knickknacks.

“Cecilia? What on earth is all this commotion? I—”

Belle turned to look at her. The minute their eyes met, two things were clear to me:

They both knew who the other one was.



If anyone was going to kill anyone, I’d put my money on Sweven and wouldn’t even consider it a high-risk investment.





“Oh.” Mother put the box down and pressed her fingers on her mouth like we were both naked, standing there in her driveway.

My mother couldn’t stop staring at Emmabelle’s stomach. The latter, in return, rubbed it protectively, like the woman in front of her was going to try and snatch the baby away if she wasn’t careful. Her belly still had a shallow, faint scar from the whole ordeal with Frank, but Belle told me she loved it even more now. The story behind her pregnancy. How precious and rare our child was.

“Belle wanted to see where I grew up before we left. I took care of the will today. Everything’s done.” I draped an arm over my girlfriend’s shoulder.

My mother was still looking at Belle’s belly with violent, hungry longing.

“I hope it’s to your liking.” She took a step toward the belly—and the woman it was attached to—acknowledging her for the very first time. “It’s free for you to use. We’re moving away. You caught us at a bit of an inconvenient time. Sorry I cannot offer you any refreshments. My kitchens are all packed.”

“It’s always a dud when all the kitchens are packed. I always leave, like, three, fully stocked. Just in case.” Emmabelle offered her a feline smile, producing a lollipop from behind her ear—like a cigarette—unwrapping it and shoving it into the side of her mouth.

She was a trickster. An unexpected rainbow in a bleak, gray painting. A woman of many faces, many shapes, and many hats.

Mother swallowed her with her eyes, fascinated. “Are all American women sarcastic?”

“No, ma’am. Only the good ones.”

“Your accent is so … lazy.”

“You should see my workout routine.” Belle sucked hard on the lollipop, looking around her, like she was figuring out what she wanted to do with the place. “Oh, and yours sounds like you were born to chide small children for asking for a second helping of porridge.”

That earned a snicker out of me.

“I hear you’re a stripper.” Mother tilted her chin up, but there was no defiance in her. Only fascination.

I took a step forward, ready to give her a verbal spanking.

Belle put her hand on mine.

“I’m not a stripper, but as someone who knows a few, I can tell you no stripper I’ve ever met fell behind on her bills. They usually do it to pay their way through college or to just make a quick buck. Lots of tips. Don’t slam it before you try it.”

My mother nodded. She was impressed despite her best efforts.

“You’re different from what I imagined.”

“You should’ve never doubted it. Your son has great taste.”