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

That something was Louisa, I was certain.

I folded my arms over my chest, waiting for more.

“We wanted to know what you’re going to do to ensure Belle is safe and sound. After all, we betrayed her confidence by telling you about that man in Boston Common. Now we want to know that our decision was justified.” Aisling pinned me with a look.

They wanted to talk about that?

“Belle lives with me now, and I put Simon in charge of her. I’m monitoring her as best I can without putting an ankle GPS SCRAM on her.”

“Is an ankle monitor totally out of the question?” Sailor asked with the utmost sincerity.

“Yes, unless I want to lose a limb or two,” I deadpanned.

“I’m sure Simon’s great, but he’s only with her when she’s at the club. I still think you should ask for Sam’s help,” Aisling insisted.

“When I broached the subject of Sam with Belle, she said she had it under control and didn’t want his interference,” I pointed out smartly. “Going against her wishes would mean an early grave for me. How did you feel when Cillian sent Sam’s men after you?” I swiveled to Persephone, who turned salmon-pink, her gaze shifting to her feet.

“Not good,” she admitted. “But I got over it, eventually.”

“Luckily for your bastard husband, you’re as agreeable as a peach. Your sister, however, I think we can all agree is more of an under ripe grapefruit.”

Aisling frowned. “Belle is hotheaded, but sometimes you have to do things for a person, even when they don’t think they need it.”

“Spoken like a true tyrant. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

Sweven was unattainable, unreachable, and unreasonable.

And I had to keep her alive.

Yay fucking me.

“If only we had an idea who it could be.” Sailor tapped her temple, thinking.

“She thinks it’s that arsehole she fired a while back,” I offered.

“Frank?” Persephone scrunched her nose.

I shrugged, even though I remembered his name. Of course I did. Any man in my position would.

“That makes sense. He’s the only loose end I can think of.” Sailor rubbed at her chin.

There was a brief silence, which I decided to fill with a question of my own.

“Has she told you anything about our situation?”

“What situation?” Persephone asked alertly. “I hope you’re treating her well.”

“Bitch, please,” Sailor snorted. “If anyone is getting unfair treatment there, it’s him.”

“She’s been moody,” I said vaguely.

“Don’t worry, it’s not because you’re marrying someone else.” Sailor looked highly amused, tucking one hand into the front pockets of her cigar pants.

So they did know about Louisa.

Belle didn’t hide it from them. She simply didn’t care enough to expand on the matter.

“Do you honestly believe she’d be fine with me marrying someone else?”

I sounded like a teenybopper asking her BFF whether she had a chance with Justin Bieber or not.

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.