The Rich Girls' Club Read Online Free Page A

down the hall.
    The three-thousand square-foot, oval-shaped clubroom that Hope was headed toward was an area designated to fornicate and to facilitate the Rich Girls’ life-altering decisions. For years, beginning early in her marriage, the room was Morgan’s hideaway. A place where she’d escape to meditate or unwind while reading her favorite authors, like Marissa Monteilh, Pynk, and Mary B. Morrison.
    Morgan refused to buy books written by reformed doggish men telling women how to date. A woman didn’t need a man’s advice on much, and surely the Rich Girls didn’t allow men to tell them when to open or close their legs.
    To enhance the peaceful aura of the west wing, Morgan had hired the same architects that had renovated her hotel to remodel the entire area. A one-million dollar upgrade had been a small price to pay to enjoy a special space with her friends: A Jacuzzi filled with herbal teas and hot mineral water was built into the hillside, and down a flight of stairs the indoo r/​ outdoor swimming pool had been built with a view overlooking the valley.
    For the Rich Girls, anything was attainable. Any man any of them desired could be had. And the men that they were proud to call their own knew their places. None of them were allowed to linger in the west wing or socialize in the clubroom, including Morgan’s husband. As for Bo, his job was to set up the food then leave immediately.
    A square ivory conference table with four high-backed plum, leather roller chairs was on the opposite end of the room from the bar. High arched openings led to the adjacent bedroom and other rooms. While Morgan did have a few secrets, she didn’t have internal doors anywhere in her home. The only exceptions were the bathrooms.
    She was clever. Since most people overlooked the obvious, all the things she should’ve hidden were transparent. Friends loved her magnetic personality. When she’d elected herself as their investment broker, none of The Girls protested. The Rich Girls’ Club’s portfolio, which had started out five years ago with an initial contribution of a half million dollars each, was now valued at over twenty million. On paper.
    As outgoing as Morgan was, Storm was the most extroverted of the four. She always had the juiciest sexcapades to share, though all of the girls were sexy. Storm and Hope had breasts big enough to feed all the men in LA County and Morgan and Brooks’s C-cups were a perfect match for one another.
    Having money really did make all of them happier, but emotionally supporting each other made them the happiest. Nothing made Morgan feel more complete than the relationships she’d established with her girls, not even her marriage to Magnum Childs. Having a husband was nice and gave her the stability she hadn’t had when she’d been single, but having girlfriends that trusted her was priceless.
    Morgan continued thumbing through the proposals for each of the girls, making certain every “i” was dotted and every “t” was crossed. Careless mistakes were truly a sign of incompetence and she had a strong disdain for them.
    Storm breezed through the door. “Girl, you are always working on something. Put those files down because you won’t believe what I did to Mr. Mayor this past Wednesday.”
    With her growing political affiliations, Storm might prove to be the most valuable asset for Morgan’s plan. Unbeknownst to Storm, her promiscuous ways had helped Morgan formulate her strategy.
    “Lord, I hope you didn’t violate that man’s anal rights.”
    Storm laughed out loud.
    “Yeah, you did. And you know I want to hear every detail but it’ll have to wait until after my big announcement,” Morgan said, waving the files in her hand. “Let’s go.”
    Strolling down the corridor, Storm said, “I just love that painting hanging in the foyer of you and Magnum on your wedding day. You were smart to hire an artist to capture the moment you exchanged vows at the altar. When I get married,