Avenge Me

Had to get his damned tax write-off. Even when he was paying for sex.

He was lucky she was pursuing legal action rather than going Batman on his ass and seeking a little vigilante justice.

“I am the night,” she muttered, going toward the third cabinet to the left, as instructed, and putting the key in the lock. She turned it and it gave, a small click in the silence of the room.

She pulled the drawer open and went for the folder marked “special services,” then she opened it and rifled through. It was one year. Just one year and it was filled with names.

Sarah’s name would have been in it ten years ago. So many women.

“Binders full of them,” she said, trying to smile at her own frail joke as she snapped a shot of the first invoice with her phone’s scanner. Humor was all she had left to get her through this crap. She’d taken her other crutches away from herself.

Her parents’ drug use. Her sister’s death. Raising a younger brother—Trey—who was angry at the world. And it was much better to laugh when she was beating back her own demons with a stick.

And she definitely had her own.

Scanning invoice after invoice that represented a woman who had been abused by Jason Treffen.

She had to laugh or curl into a ball and give up on humanity. Or go back down the deep dark rabbit holes she used to hide in. Soothe her pain in the other ways she knew how to soothe it.

No. She wasn’t going back there. Not again.

She scanned every doc, then put them back in the folder, and back in the drawer, which she locked. Then she stuck her phone back in her handbag and made her way out of Jason’s office, dropping the key beneath a little potted flower on Stephanie’s desk, as she’d requested.

Katy let out a long breath and started walking back down the empty corridor, back to the party.

Back toward Jason Treffen.

Talking to that scumbag had just about made her lose her mind. It had taken everything in her not to grab his glass from his hand and pour it over his head. Then break the glass on his face.

She considered the man as good as her sister’s murderer, so she was short on charitable feelings where he was concerned.

The door to the ballroom opened and she froze, trying to affect an “I’m just coming back from the bathroom” demeanor. Whatever the hell that was.

Oh. Her breath left her in a rush, a current of electricity washing over her skin.

It was him.

The man who’d been drinking scotch. The man whose eyes were like an endless black hole, drawing her in, a force she couldn’t deny or control.

The man who had looked at her for a moment.

Someone looking at her wasn’t really that significant. It happened every day. Except when this man had looked at her, she’d felt as if she were grounded to the spot. She’d felt like he had looked and seen her.

Seen everything. More than that, she’d looked back and she’d seen him.

Had seen a grief in him. An anger.

It had been, in some ways, like looking into a mirror.

And in just a second, it had been over. She’d gone to find Jason, to put herself in his vicinity. Just because she’d promised herself she would. Because she’d promised herself she would look him dead in the eye one day, knowing she was going to destroy him, while he didn’t have a clue.

And so she had.

But it had been a sacrifice, because she’d had to look away from the man. It was a moment that summed up her entire life, really. Deny, deny, repress. Push on through. Don’t let the pain touch you. Don’t let the pleasure touch you, either.

“It’s you,” he said, his voice deep, smooth. Like really good chocolate.

“Yes, it’s me. I was...in the bathroom.” Oh, nice, Katy. That was very good.

He arched a brow. “Fascinating.”

“Not so much, I know.”

“I’ll let it slide because I was hoping to run into you.”

“Were you?”

“Yes,” he said, walking closer to her, his eyes burning into hers.

She’d never seen anything like his eyes. They were so intense she couldn’t look away.

And his body...perfectly showcased by his custom-made suit. Broad shoulders, trim waist and slim hips. Very expensive shoes.

Then there was his face. He was arresting. Dark brows, chiseled jaw, Roman nose. His lips were perfection. She couldn’t remember ever being fascinated by a man’s lips before. Even the men’s mouths she’d come into direct physical contact with hadn’t fascinated her.

His mouth was shaped perfectly. She found herself utterly obsessed by the thought of tracing his top lip with her tongue. Of letting the tip of it slide into the little V just beneath his nose.

Jeez. She needed help. A good night’s sleep. Something. This wasn’t normal. Not for her.

“Wh-why were you hoping to run into me?” she asked.

“Because you’re the most beautiful woman here. Why wouldn’t I want to see you?”

“I call B.S.,” she said. “There are models here.”

“So? You were the one who caught my attention.”

“You’re a flirt.”

“That’s the thing—I’m not really. So if I’m doing a poor job of it, it’s only because I lack practice.” He put his hands in his pockets, a wicked half smile curling that sinful mouth.

“Again, I call bull.”

“Again, you’re wrong.”

“You’re drunk.”

“A little.”

“Honest,” she said. “But I have to get back.”

She started to walk past him and he took her arm, stopped her progress. Her breath left her lungs in a rush, his grip shockingly tight. She looked up and met cold, dark eyes. “To who?” he asked, his voice gentle, an opposing force to the hold he had on her.

Her heart was thundering hard. But it wasn’t with fear. There was something about his grip, so tight, so certain, that made her feel...

She blinked. Oh, no, she was not getting turned on by a strange man in the corridor of a party she was technically coordinating.

But there was something about that grip. Commanding. Hard. It spoke to every secret fantasy that lived in the dark shadows inside of her. The parts of her that didn’t want a sweet kiss at midnight from Prince Charming. The parts that had always craved things she’d never quite understood.

The parts of herself that had looked at every man she’d even tried to date and found them lacking.

But not him. He wouldn’t be lacking. Something shivered inside of her, a whisper.

He would know what you wanted.

“None of your business,” she growled.

“Jason Treffen?” he asked, a tinge of bitterness to his tone.

“Why?”

“I saw you speaking with him earlier.”

“Guilty,” she said. “Now will you let go of me?”

“Will you stay for a moment?”

“What if I say no?”

His gaze flickered over her. “I’m not sure.”

Part of her wanted to dare him. Wanted to say no. Wanted to see if the grip would tighten. If he would take the control. “I’ll stay for a moment.”

He released his hold on her. “Good. Then I’ll work on being more interesting than whatever’s in that party.”

“Oooh,” she said, affecting a regretful smile, “they have cocktail shrimp.”

“I’m losing out to shellfish?”

“It’s prime. I hear they brought all the seafood from Maine.”

“Well, I’m not from Maine, so I’m not sure I can compete.”

“Where are you from?” she asked.

“Upstate.”

“Hmm. Vague.”

He lifted one shoulder. “Where are you from?”

“Originally? Somewhere in the Eastern Seaboard.”

“Also vague,” he said.

“Vague is okay. We’re just talking in the hall.”

“Are we?” he asked. He put his hand back on her arm, his fingertips hot against her skin.

She’d never really flirted much, either. Her last date had been long enough ago that she didn’t want to count. And her sex life? That was nonexistent. A younger brother and parents who were usually passed out somewhere made a sex life impossible. Plus, dating someone implied letting someone in. Bringing them into that hellhole she called a life.

Anyway, there was no man she found overly appealing in that deadbeat town. All she’d ever wanted to do was leave it behind.

And since she’d left, she’d been working. Tirelessly toward the moment she’d just had. Toward getting herself in a position where she could be in this social circle. Toward looking Jason Treffen in the eye. Gathering evidence against him.

Suddenly she felt exhausted. She felt every missed opportunity in her life, every emotion she’d dulled or ruthlessly cut from herself, every moment she’d sacrificed, including that moment of eye contact in the ballroom with this man, so that she could have this revenge.

So that she could see justice done.

And suddenly, she didn’t want to go back into the ballroom. She wanted to stay in the hall, with him. With the man who carried a matching darkness inside of him. A man who she knew, instinctively, would want what she did.

She felt like he was the one. The one to tear the lid off all those fantasies that she kept down deep. Like he was the first one to offer real, serious temptation.

“Maybe it’s more than that,” she said. “If we’re being honest, I’m not especially up on the flirting game, either.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Why?”

“Why did you find it hard to believe I wasn’t?”

“Because you’re so forward.”

He shifted his weight, drew closer to her. “Oh, don’t mistake me. I might not be a flirt, but when I want something, I get it. When I want someone,” he said, lifting his hand and drawing it over her cheek, “I make sure I have her.”

She should hate this. She should shove him back. She should tell him to go to hell with all his proprietary male garbage. But she didn’t.

Because she didn’t hate it.

Because this wasn’t the game she’d been taught to loathe so much. This wasn’t the thing that Sarah had been caught up in. There was no artifice here. There was an edge of honesty to this man’s words. A rawness.

This was her fantasy. This was why no other man had ever tempted her. Why she’d never gone out of her way to pursue more than a kiss.

“And you want me?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“Damn. You are drunk.”

“I am,” he said, “but not so much that I don’t know what I want. Who I want.”

“We don’t know each other,” she said.

“I know. But in some ways, doesn’t that make it better?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never...” She started to say she’d never been with a man, one she knew or not, but she let it trail off. A twenty-six-year-old virgin was a bit of a joke and she wasn’t exactly in the mood to confess that.

Besides, it might scare him off. And she hadn’t decided if she wanted to do that or not.

One thing was for sure: she didn’t want him to think that because she’d never been with a man, she needed some sort of gentle, soothing seduction.

That was the last thing she wanted. She wanted those strong hands on her. Rough. In control.

“Me neither,” he said.

“You haven’t what?” she asked. Because he wasn’t a virgin. That was for sure.

“I don’t do this kind of thing. Pick up women I meet in corridors. I have relationships. I take a woman out to dinner at least three times before I make a move toward the bedroom.”

“That’s very courteous of you.”

“Isn’t it?”

“And what about right now?”

“Right now? I’m thinking I don’t want to take you out to dinner three times. I want to take you against the wall. Now.”

His words hit those dark places inside of her. Called to needs she had that she’d never given voice to. Something in her sensed that he could give her what she wanted. Sensed that he would know what it was she wanted, everything she’d never given voice to. Things she’d never even let herself think.

“That would be...” Incredible. And she didn’t know why she was sure about that, only that she was. “Well, it would be a bad idea because anyone could walk by.”

“Danger doesn’t get you off?” he asked, leaning in, his lips a whisper from hers.

Apparently, a certain kind of danger did get her off. But not the idea of getting caught having sex for the first time in a hallway. No, that didn’t turn her on so much.

Lies.

“Danger, maybe,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “Voyeurism, not so much.”

“Not really my thing, either, I have to confess. But...I haven’t even kissed you yet and I’m not sure I can wait to get you to a hotel room.”

“You’re very sure of yourself.”

“Not of myself. Of this. You have to feel it, too. You have to.”

She did. She nodded slowly. “I think anyone who came within three feet of us would be able to feel it.”

Like the heavy lid of a well had just been moved and she suddenly had access to all of these things she’d kept in the deep darkness of her soul. Things she’d been hiding from.

Maybe it was him. Maybe it was just because her world felt rocked. Because life seemed dirtier and uglier than it ever had, with those invoices scanned into her phone. With the weight of her reality, Sarah’s reality, pressing down on her.

With the realization of what her life had become. An endless sea of numbness.

Maybe that was why this stranger suddenly seemed like the most important thing in the world. Maybe it was why he seemed to be rooting her to the earth.

Or maybe it was just lust. Base, dirty lust. Lust that had gone unpursued for the past twenty-six years. Lust that wanted something her body had decided only he could give.

But then, in the end she wasn’t sure the reason mattered.

“Probably,” he said.

“Why don’t you kiss me?” she asked, desperate for something she’d at least done before. “Just to test it. We could be wrong, you know. We could kiss and decide it’s really not worth the trouble.”

He touched her lip with his thumb and she shivered. “If I kiss you now, I guarantee you, you will find yourself shoved up against a hard surface or bent over a piece of furniture with your dress over your hips and your panties at your ankles. Is that what you want?”

Yes. Heaven help her, yes.

For your first time? Really?

Why not? He knew what he was doing. If he told her what to do she was damn sure it would feel good.

He was what she wanted. What she craved.

“If I say yes,” she said, “will you judge me?”

“No. But I might fuck you.”

She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. “Is that a promise?”

“Do you still want to go back inside and have cocktail shrimp?”

She thought of Jason Treffen. Of the party she was meant to be coordinating.

Well, it was late yet and everything was working just fine without her in there holding everyone’s hand. Because she’d already done a lot of coordinating and so it was all going smoothly and...and they really didn’t need her.

And she wanted. For the first time in longer than she could remember, she wanted. For her. Not for Trey. Not for Sarah.

“I’ve never wanted shrimp less in my life.”

“I’m glad I have your attention.”

“You do.”

“Do you still want that kiss?”

Her heart started thundering harder. “I really do think that we should do...things...in private.”

“What if I promise to behave?”

“Can you keep the promise?”

“One kiss,” he said. “That’s all you can have. No more.”

“What if I want two?” she asked.

He cupped her chin, held her steady, his eyes intent on hers. “One,” he repeated. “Or I walk away. You have to obey, or I stop now.”

She nodded slowly. “One kiss.”

“Good girl.” He leaned in, his breath hot as it skimmed over her lips.

He didn’t press his mouth to hers, not at first. He waited. Waited until she thought she would die with how much she wanted it. With how much she wanted him.

And then he kissed her.

It was firm. Hot. He tasted like alcohol and spices, like something completely new and unfamiliar. She wanted more. Wanted to explore his mouth, drown in his flavor.

But before she could, he’d moved away.

He stood back, assessing her, his eyes so dark they were nearly black. “What do you think?” he asked.

“I don’t know.... What do you think?”

“I think we need that hotel room. Now.”

Chapter Two

Forget letting his mind wander down dark alleys. He was committed now. Not just his mind—his body and soul, as well.

One night. It wouldn’t matter later.

He’d never see this woman again. And he could...he could grab ahold of something just for the night. For one night he could have the control back. Everything was falling apart. Falling away, and once he dropped the bomb on his family, once the scandal broke over the Treffen name, all the control would be gone. Wrenched from his hands.

This might make things feel all right, if only for a few hours.

To have someone at his command. To have something that was his.

He thought of the way she’d been talking to his father and a knot lodged in his throat. If she needed money...

Put some money on the dresser?

Well, why not? If she needed it. It would be better if it was him and not his father she was going to for security through sex. Because the other man couldn’t have her. No one else could. He wanted her.

The things he wanted her for...

He closed his hand into a fist and tried to stave off the surge of lust that shot through his veins. He needed to get a grip.

Or not.

He was tired. Tired of always fighting everything. Everyone’s demons and his own.

He took his phone out of his pocket and dialed a hotel downtown that a business acquaintance owned. He’d been telling the truth when he’d told her he wasn’t a one-night-stand sort of man.

But he had his connections.

“I need a room for tonight,” he said. “Account number four fifty-three. The penthouse suite.” He didn’t want this woman to know his connection to Jason, not if she was ignorant of it. And he didn’t know why she should know who he was. Ten years he’d spent separate from Jason, and he wasn’t the media whore his father was.

Austin preferred to keep his head down and do his work. He preferred to stay away from the spotlight. Passion, lust, greed, a desire for fame. It all corrupted.

He looked over his date for the night. Well, tonight he would be indulging two of those infamous corrupters.

And he couldn’t find any regret for it.

“I have a guest,” he said, the words heavy with meaning. “I shall need the appropriate amenities.”

“Of course, sir. A code will be texted to your phone,” the man on the other end said. “It will grant you admittance to your room. No need to check in at the desk. All supplies you might need for yourself and your guest will be waiting.”

“Perfect,” he said, hanging up. “We’re set for the night. Unless you’ve changed your mind?”

He looked at her, blue eyes wide, a slight tremble in her full lower lip. That little bit of sass and confidence he’d seen in her earlier had waned a bit. She looked vulnerable. She made him feel a bit like a predator.

And damned if he couldn’t muster up any remorse for that. Damned if it didn’t make him a little bit harder.

She met his eyes. “No. I haven’t changed my mind. Only...the shrimp. I didn’t get any.”

“I can order you shrimp. Room service.”

“From Maine?”

“From any damn place you want.”

The corner of her mouth twitched. “How can a girl say no to that?”

“I don’t know, but if you’re going to say no,” he said, his voice rough, everything in him feeling rough, “do it now.”

She looked down, and she seemed to be seriously considering it. He didn’t think he could handle her refusal now. He was too far gone.

One kiss, and he was too far gone.

“I’m not going to say no.”

He wrapped his arm around her waist and tugged her up against his body. And he didn’t care if anyone else walked out into the hall. He didn’t care about a damn thing except for the feeling of her breasts against his chest, the harsh, rapid pattern of her breathing bringing them up tighter against him, before giving him a brief reprieve, then repeating.

He felt as if he were on the edge of breaking completely. The world was splintering around him; his self-control was shattering inside of him.

He wanted to seize it. Take it back with both hands. Claim it. Over her bare body, and if that was wrong, he couldn’t muster up the energy to care. Not now.

But she had to agree. Because now that he’d given himself permission to do this, to act on it...he wasn’t sure how far it might go.

“Be sure,” he said. “I am short on self-control tonight, if what I’ve said to you here wasn’t enough of an indicator. I don’t want to hurt you. But once we’re in the hotel room? I’m in charge. I will have what I want. So while we’re out here, you have the chance to tell me you don’t want that. If you want a sweet night of making love, then, darling, you need to find another man. That’s not what I want tonight. I don’t want to hold you, and go slow and tender. Tonight? I want you hard. I want you fast. I want you every time I ask. I want you on your knees. Tonight, you’re mine. If that’s not what you want? Get another guy to go home with you. You won’t have any trouble finding one. If that’s okay with you...don’t act like you weren’t warned.”

“You’re in charge?” she asked, her voice unsteady.

“Yes.”

“You’ll tell me what to do?” she asked, the black in her eyes expanding, the blue turning to a little sliver of color.

“Yes. Because once we’re in that suite, you’re mine.” He’d never said things like this to a woman in his life. He was polite. Courteous. Respectful.

Never once had he given in to that desire to ask a woman to get on her knees in front of him and do what she was told.

Never once had he spoken with such absolute honesty about what he wanted. Because he’d never been this honest with himself about what he wanted. Because he spent his life in denial of those ugly things, the twisted shadows in his soul, the dirty blood that he couldn’t escape.

“Then let’s go,” she said.

“This is what you want?”

“Do I have to say it again?”

“Do I have to tell you what I want again?”

“Only if you want me to push you up against the wall and have you here and now,” she said. “Because I’ve never had a man say anything like that to me before, and I have to tell you, it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”

“Then I suppose we better get to our room.”

She swallowed hard, the motion of her throat fascinating. He wanted to press his lips to it. He wanted to scrape her skin with his teeth and listen to the sound she would make.

He wanted to feel her shiver beneath his touch.

“Yes,” he said again. “We need to go. Now.”

“You going to call us a car?”

“I have a car.”

“Oh.”

“I mean, a driver.”

“That makes more sense. Kind of.”

He held his hand out and she took it, delicate fingers curling around his. “I assume you want to get out without being seen?”

“I’d rather not parade back through the ballroom, now that you mention it.”

“You don’t want to advertise that you’re leaving with me?”

“Not so much. Can we keep it clandestine? That’s pretty sexy, really.”

“You’re ashamed,” he said.

A slash of color faded into her cheeks. “Maybe a little.”

“Because you want me so much.”

“Yes.”

“And that’s bad to you, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she said. “I think having sex with a stranger is pretty bad.”

“But you sort of like the idea of being a bad girl, don’t you?”

The color in her cheeks deepened. “Seriously, let’s go.”

“We’re going to have fun,” he said, tugging her down the empty hall. Fun was the wrong word for it, though. He could already sense that.