Page 3 of His Wild Seduction

Yeah, it was unkind, and I probably sounded like a spoiled little brat, but I had my reasons.

No one knew what happened the night I turned eighteen. No one but me and the old man currently in the ICU.

Josef had already abandoned me when my father drunkenly tore my shirt and slapped my face, calling me a whore and threatening to take what I’d already given to another man.

I’d wanted to hit him back. But I was afraid. So, I ran outside into the night blindly.

Not far, of course. How could I?

I wound up in one of the guesthouses on our property, and that was where I’d stayed.

The funny thing about traumatic events, like your stepfather slapping you and touching you inappropriately, was that sometimes you doubted yourself.

Sometimes your mind played tricks on you, and you wondered if all that really happened. It was like an out-of-body experience.

Did Dad really say I was a whore? Just like my mother.

Did he slap me across the face?

Did he really tear my shirt and grab me?

And even after all that, did I really just not say anything back?

Self-loathing had me swallowing, but I managed not to puke all over the pristine boardroom.

A man walked in, handing Josef a folder, and placing one in front of me as well.

“Take a moment to look over the numbers, Meredith,” Josef said, his voice grave.

I pretended to read over the papers Josef’s team of lawyer sharks had prepared, but I was stuck back in time.

I’d had to wait until early the morning after that scene with Franklin before I could bribe a maid, Gretchen was her name, to pack a small bag with my clothes, my license and passport.

I also asked her to get the few pieces of my mother’s jewelry I had on my dresser, the small picture I had of her by my nightstand, and my wallet, which held a couple of hundred bucks and a few credit cards.

She did it and I handed her a stack of twenties after she met me on the edge of the property where another member of the house staff waited with a car to drive me to the airport.

I flew to Europe on my eighteenth birthday. I spent the first few months frugally backpacking across the continent.

Yeah, I supposed I went a little wild. I started using my mother’s maiden name as my own. Meredith Blake, not Gray.

And I didn’t return to the states. Not for years.

When I did come back, I went to a small suburb outside of Washington, D.C., I found a cheap apartment and I got a job. I started working at a women’s shelter, which had only just recently expanded, bringing me back to New Jersey a few months ago.

I should have known better than to come back to my home state. Franklin found me weeks after I’d returned and sent a private investigator to request a meeting.

I’d refused, and my father, er, stepfather left me alone. I thought that was that.

And it was.

Until last night.

CHAPTER ONE

MEREDITH

Spring was unpredictable in the Northeast.

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