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

Did he want my blessing? To feel good about himself?

The man was going to destroy me. But I’d learned long ago that destruction had its flip side.

It set the ground for rebuilding.

“Yes,” I heard myself say. “Nothing would make me happier than seeing your ass married to someone else. Maybe that way you’ll finally stop chasing after me. It’s getting a little desperate, you know. A man of your age.”

“You’re not as young as you think you are,” he said pitifully.

“You’re considering it,” I said accusingly.

Fuck, I didn’t know what I was thinking. What I was saying.

Why was I pushing him like that?

“Yes,” he said quietly.

I broke into a thousand pieces inside.

This is what you get by opening up, even an inch.

“Well …” I smiled, hoping he couldn’t see the tears that began streaming down my face, “…don’t let me stand in your way.”

I felt the edge of the bed rise as he stood up and walked to the door.

“Roger that, Sweven.”




For the next two weeks, I was irritated and combative.

I put my anger into everything I did. I banged on the keyboard in my office while working the spreadsheets. Yelled at Ross for the dumbest reasons when he dared talk to me about anything that wasn’t work.

When my mother came over for a visit from the suburbs bearing little yellow baby clothes, I roared at her that shopping for the baby before she was born was bad luck.

And I was pretty sure I jogged everywhere instead of walked, just because of the adrenaline running through my veins.

I hadn’t seen Louisa since that day, but I could only guess Devon was seeing her.

He stopped coming home every day at six o’clock sharp as he used to.

In fact, I hardly ever saw him at all. When we did cross paths, usually early in the morning, when I woke up on the hunt for a snack and he came back from his fencing matches, he nodded at me curtly but didn’t stick around for the daily verbal abuse I treated him to.

More than anything, I felt a sharp, awful loss. I mourned all the times I treated him terribly, knowing I brought it on myself. From day one, I’d been impossible. And now, when I wanted to be possible for him, it was too late.

I was sure Louisa was still in Boston, loitering with the sole purpose of making him hers.

He was out of the apartment all hours of the day and night, probably getting to know her, reconnecting, and planning their new life together.

One morning, in the kitchen, I couldn’t take it anymore.

When he made himself a protein shake and I poured myself a tall glass of matcha juice, I turned to him and asked, “How’s Louisa doing, anyway?”

“Quite well,” he said stonily.

This was the part where I would normally insert a barb, an insult of sorts, but I was so exhausted, so depressed, so angry at myself, I asked, “Are you guys …?”

He curved one eyebrow up, waiting for the rest.

Long gone were the days when he made things easier for me.

“Are you together?” I spat the rest of the question out.

“Uncertain. Ask again in a couple weeks.”

I wanted to throw up, and I didn’t even have morning sickness anymore.

“Devon, I’m sorry.”

Sorry for the way I had treated him.

Sorry for not going to the police even though I knew it was the smart thing to do.

Sorry I was so screwed up I couldn’t keep a good thing when it was handed to me.

“Why, darling, we did both agree fucking the same person for a period exceeding five months is outrageously boring.” He reached over to caress my face with his sardonic smirk. “Time’s up.”




The night that changed our new status quo happened on an unassuming Friday.

I was just getting ready to leave Madame Mayhem and go back to Devon’s apartment.

Prior to Louisa’s arrival in Boston, I’d tried to cut down on hours at the club. This time I stayed late, knowing that in all probability Devon wasn’t going to be home.

I had been good with hanging out with Si as much as I could and making sure Persy, Ash, and Sailor were always with me when I went out in town, so I let my guard down a little.

It was almost eleven at night when I locked the back office. I strolled through the alleyway toward my car, clutching my bag to my chest, my gun inside it.

Though it wasn’t loaded for obvious reasons, it still made me feel significantly safer.

My car’s lights flashed when I unlocked it with the key fob.

I took a few more steps, stopping between the industrial trash cans, hating that I told Simon to leave early today.

I felt a terrible weight launch itself at me from behind.

I stumbled forward, fumbling for the gun in my bag, but the person who tackled me was faster.

They grabbed me by the arm and slammed my back against my car in the darkness. I gasped for air.

“Let go!” I growled, coming face to face with a man wearing a black balaclava.

It couldn’t be Frank because he was taller and leaner than my former employee.

But it could be the man from the Common. The one I hadn’t heard from in months.

“I don’t think so, honey. We’re going to have a long productive talk about how you need to leave this city.”

Leave the city? What happened to killing me? Had I been demoted to banishment only?