June (Calendar Girl #6) Read Online Free

choke to death on five hundred dollar champagne.” He chuckled as my eyes watered. I ended up spraying the liquid still in my mouth across the plant in front of me. I hacked and coughed, trying to get my bearings. A waiter walked by at that moment with glasses of water. The grey-haired old man stole one and handed it to me. I slugged it back gratefully, clearing out the champagne that had gone down the wrong pipe.
    “I’m so sorry.” I cleared my throat and put my lip out, giving my best pout.
    The man, who must have been at least sixty-five or seventy, shook his head and petted my cheek like I was a favored pet. “No worries, little girl. Who’s your Daddy?” One minute he was grandfatherly old guy and the next, a true predator.
    Without realizing it, my eyebrows narrowed. “I’m not sure what you mean?”
    “Don’t be dense. Who takes care of you?” He licked his dry, cracked lips. The old man breathed with his mouth open and the stench of cigars and liquor wafted over me. I cringed, gulping back the need to vomit.
    Someone cleared their throat behind him. “I believe you have found something that belongs to me.” Warren Shipley’s face twisted into a scowl, his eyes were hard as stones as he took in the man’s hand holding onto my arm.
    “Warren, I didn’t know you’d finally taken a lamb.” The man grinned, and his eyes traced wantonly over my curves. “And what a perfect little pet. Do you share her?” His tone was smarmy. Holding down that vomit was getting harder by the second.
    Warren laughed out loud. A full-bellied laugh that could be heard far and wide. “’Fraid not, old friend. Bit selfish in my old age, Arthur.”
    Arthur let go of my bicep. Instinctively, I rubbed at the spot. Warren clocked the move and his jaw tightened. He came over and put his hand lightly around my waist. “This is Mia, under my care. Mia, Arthur Broughton.” Warren squeezed my waist, and I held out my hand.
    “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Broughton.” I cuddled up to Warren for good measure. He held me closer, his body a pillar of strength, firm and standing tall. A strength that belied his years.
    Warren leaned down and kissed my temple. “Mia, you look parched. Go on ahead and get a drink. I’ll be there in a moment.” I nodded and he tapped my ass lightly. You couldn’t really say it was in a good-game-type way like Mason, my old client and friend did with his major league baseball buddies, or me, for that matter. It was more coddling. At least he didn’t grope like some of these men did.
    I made my way through the veritable buffet of old dudes with tight, pretty, young female bodies clinging to their arms. I could almost imagine the tiny manacles holding the women close, making sure they were never far from the men’s wallets. Gross.
    The bartender offered me a new glass of champagne. I pounded it, set the glass down, and asked for another.
    “Easy tiger, you don’t want to be falling down drunk and ruin Father’s image,” Aaron said as he settled onto the stool next to mine.
    I shook my head and pursed my lips. “I don’t get what I’m here for.”
    “You’re already doing it. Looking good, showing these old timers that Father is one of them. See how he’s talking animatedly with Arthur Broughton?”
    I cringed at the name of the guy who had gripped my arm. “Yeah.”
    Aaron nodded toward the duo. “He owns the ports Father wants to take the meds through. He has the port authority in each country he serves in his back pocket. Father needs that guy in order to park his ships.”
    Exhaling, I pushed out my chest and adjusted my shoulders. “But why? What he’s doing is good, kind, and humanitarian.”
    Aaron chuckled. “It is, but it doesn’t make any money, and it’s dangerous to take Americans into these countries and set up medical facilities. And I use the term ‘facility’ lightly. They’re more of a bunker-tent-type situation. It’s only one step. That’s if he gets Arthur to