Someone else’s devil wears Prada, and mine wears dark Brioni suits. Blake Morton. My mother’s stepbrother, my father’s business partner, and—besides that—my guardian, who keeps pestering me with nitpicky complaints. Out of spite for an old childhood trick, he cut me off from my accounts, blocked my credit cards, and demands that I obey him.
But I won’t be a good little girl. And if Uncle Blake wants war, he’ll get it.