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Melody Blake
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2025-11-20 10:50:02
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I Tried To Be A Good Girl, But My Past Won’t Stay Burried Melody Blake
"I thought we lost him," Edward muttered, guilt written all over his face. I crossed my arms, glaring past him. "Why the fuck is he here?" And there he was—Sam. The human equivalent of a red flag in a suit. I'd never paid him much attention before, mostly because his presence made my skin crawl. But lately, I'd been connecting the dots. The man got special treatment from Henry's father, had a permanent smug expression, and a cushy executive role in Henry's company. My money said he was family—an illegitimate brother, maybe. Blake Senior's favorite mistake. Edward winced. "Just to bring some food from the old house. The old man insisted that they come deliver it. I threw it away and tried to lose him, but I didn't expect him to follow." "You brought Levi over there without asking me?" My voice could've cracked glass. "W-well," Edward stammered, "look at how much the old man hates Henry compared to how he loves Levi." "Are you sure about that?" I hissed. "Uncle Ed is right," Levi
I Tried To Be A Good Girl, But My Past Won’t Stay Burried Edward Blake
I can't believe I have to look after my brother's kid. Out of everyone in the family, me. Like I didn't already have better things to do than babysit a seven-year-old philosopher trapped in a child's body. Seriously, Levi creeps me out sometimes — he's too observant. Too calm. Like he's silently judging everyone for not meeting his private standard of excellence. "Are you hungry, little man?" I asked, mostly just to fill the silence. He gave me a look — the kind that said I can't believe this idiot's related to me. "We just ate. Why would I be?" Right. Should've known. I sighed. "Hungry or not, I'm taking you to the old house for dinner. Your parents are going to be a while anyway. Grandpa isn't home." I loaded him into the car and drove back to the Blake mansion — home sweet trauma factory. The place was the same as ever: huge, elegant, too clean, and colder than a tax audit. Marble floors, chandelier the size of a small planet, and a silence so thick you could drown in it. We
I Tried To Be A Good Girl, But My Past Won’t Stay Burried Melody Blake
Damn, he looked good while he slept. The kind of good that made you question your morals at eight in the morning. His shirt was half open, teasing me with just enough of his chest to make me want to rip the rest off myself. What was the point of being that hot if he wasn't going to show it off? False advertising. I leaned in and started to gently unbutton the rest, careful not to wake him. Oh. Oh hello, pectorals. He's definitely been keeping up with those. How? The man can barely bend over for his shoes but somehow he's still sculpted like sin. My appreciation tour got cut short when a hand shot up and grabbed my wrist. "What are you doing?" he asked, voice gravelly and suspiciously sexy. I smiled, caught but unbothered. "Just checking out the goods—and how your recovery's going," I said, eyes unapologetically glued to his chest. "You're looking... healthy. Want to do something exciting?" His lips twitched, eyes darkening. "I can get up for it." "You pervert! That's not what I
I Tried To Be A Good Girl, But My Past Won’t Stay Burried Melody Blake
I couldn't believe I was sitting in a board meeting at Mrs. Lake's place. The room itself looked like something out of those glossy business magazines—long walnut table, leather chairs that made my ass feel richer than I was, a wall of glass that gave you just enough skyline to feel important but not so much that you got vertigo. A few men and women were already seated, faces serious, papers neat in front of them, like they'd been born with spreadsheets in their hands. If I handled this right today, Mrs. Lake promised double for the month. $120k in a month sounded like a good mood enhancer. Claire rounded the corner with a drink tray and I did what any sane person would do: I hid. I spun my chair away, buried my face in my folder, and pretended to be invisible. "Please wait—our director will be here shortly," she called, voice syrupy. If I couldn't see her, she couldn't see me, right? Wrong. The window was reflective and there was Claire, glaring and doing that impatient-carved-from
I Tried To Be A Good Girl, But My Past Won’t Stay Burried Melody Blake
"Thanks, Tom," I said, limping alongside him. My ankle throbbed like hell, and if it weren't for his pity—and his wallet—I'd probably be in debt until Levi graduated college. He'd paid my hospital bill without batting an eye. Knight in shining sedan. "It's no problem," he said with that kind, polished smile all drivers for the rich seem to have. "I was going to call you anyway. Mrs. Lake woke up—but what a coincidence we bumped into each other." "Right," I said, following him down another antiseptic-smelling hallway into a private hospital room that looked more like a five-star hotel suite than a place for the sick. Inside, an older woman sat propped up in bed, silver hair perfectly coiffed, hospital gown replaced with what I was ninety percent sure was designer loungewear. "Madame," Tom said softly, "I've brought Mrs. Melody Blake—the one who saved you earlier." Mrs. Lake turned toward me, her eyes sharp even in her frailness. "What's going on?" I asked, feeling like I'd walked
I Tried To Be A Good Girl, But My Past Won’t Stay Burried Henry Blake
Once Melody left again, the apartment felt like a deflated balloon — silent, still, and full of leftover warmth from where she'd been. Levi padded out of his room, rubbing his eyes and climbing up beside me on the couch like he owned the place. He didn't say a word, just sat there swinging his little legs, watching me. The kid could sense weakness like a shark smelled blood. I wondered if he could tell how powerless I felt — how useless I'd become. I picked up my phone before I could talk myself out of it and dialed the last number I ever wanted to. "Hello, Melody?" Edward's voice came through, chipper and stupid as ever. "It's not Melody," I snapped. "It's me. Is that job interview still open?" "Uh... yeah." "Good. Come get me." I hung up before he could say something that'd make me regret it. I wheeled myself into the bedroom and started digging through drawers and closets until I found a suit — the one decent thing I had left that didn't smell like defeat. It was still wrap
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