Page 6 of Revenge On Her Dad's Best Friends

And Zachariah, with his thick soft hair, brushed back with his fingers, had the grayest eyes she had ever seen and had the ability to exude playfulness and trust but could also change in an instant, like an insidious river.

Serious, Calista? What is that about? Bradford has green eyes, Reece has blue eyes, and Zachariah has gray eyes.No more lakes, seas, and rivers for her. No more romanticizing them. She had a job to do—get closure—and she came armed with everything she needed for complete success.

Three pairs of handcuffs dangled from a loop in the suit. Their purpose? Self-explanatory. From the other side of her hip and hanging from another loop were three bands of black silk. If she didn’t want to hear them telling her to go home, she could use the strips of fabric as gags.

In one hand she held the whip, and her other held the black briefcase that Lady Night had said was their actual birthday present, and Calista was to let them know that after she was done getting her vengeance.

She cracked the whip, proud of herself when the crash course in her bedroom with Tabby paid off and she didn’t do her eye out. That would have been a colossal fuck-up on her part, and she didn’t get this far to mess it up.

Happy early birthday, Dad’s best friends.

“Gentlemen,” she began. She tried to make her voice husky, deeper. It came out as guttural, and she sounded maybe a little inebriated. On what exactly she had no idea, except a devious voice in her head let her know it was because she had drunk up the sight of them like a girl dying in a desert. Yeah no. The voice was wrong.

But she took solace in that they wouldn’t be able to identify her through her voice anyway since they hardly spoke to her—try… never spoke to her. She wasn’t at risk of giving herself away just yet. Still, she tried for husky and deeper again and succeeded.

“I’m KittyHotStuff69. And tonight's your lucky night.”

Or not. Depending on who wore the handcuffs.

Chapter Six

Calista walked into the living room of the penthouse, struggling not to be awed by the sheer luxury of the place, then made a show of looking around her bored but curious before she faced them again. That was harder to do than she thought.

They stood with their legs braced apart, their hands in the pockets of their suit pants. How could they look so fresh when she was probably growing dark circles under her eyes inside the mask just from the stress alone?

Oh, shoot. Fine, she’d admit it. They were incredibly handsome; she couldn’t deny that. They were also mean asses to her, and she wanted them to apologize for their abhorrent behaviors toward her. Multiple times, if she had her way.

But her breath caught and, arg, she wanted to squeeze her boobs—anything to deflate her nipples. The last thing she needed was to tear a hole into the latex with her suddenly pebbled breast beads.

Also, it was getting just a trifle too hot inside the suit, particularly between her legs. She’d have to worry about that later.

“Let’s get this party started, shall we? Oh, and compliments of Lady Night, I’m here totake careof you,” she said, reciting the line Tabby had insisted she used to make herself more authentic.

“So how about we take this somewhere a little more intimate? Somewhere with a bed,” she said as seductively as she could.

That was quick thinking on her part. After her brief perusal of the room, she quickly ascertained there was nowhere to tie all them up together. The chairs looked too heavy to move and cluster together, and she didn’t want to work up more of a sweat since she was already brewing one inside the suit.

Oh, god. Her nerves let her know she was, in fact, getting a little too uncomfortably heated now for her own good. It’s okay. She just needed to tie them up, tell them what she came here to tell them, and be gone. She’d keep in the suit until then. Wouldn’t she?

In her mind’s eyes, she envisioned that the bedroom upstairs would have a four-poster bed, so she could line them on the bed and handcuff them in a row to the posts.

Without waiting for them, she led the way up the gold and chrome staircase, where each step seemed to be suspended in nothing but air. She kept her pace slow and measured. If she fell to her death before she completed her mission, she was going to be so freaking mad. And it was only belatedly that she realized there was a glass elevator she could have taken instead.

She didn’t expect the relief that filled her to be so intense when they followed her up, quickly erasing a contingency backup she didn’t have.

She poked her head into the first room and found a study. That wouldn’t do. The next room was another reception area, andthe next was a home theater. The third room, thankfully, was a bedroom, and it was perfect for the revenge of the century.

Her heels sank into the dense wool fibers of the carpet. Adorned with state-of-the-art furniture, a lounge area occupied the right side of the bedroom. A huge custom-made bed graced the center of the room, and the scent of expensive male cologne lingered in the air around her. A mixture of all three of their scents.

She immediately spotted three chairs, which looked light enough for her to carry, scattered around the lounge area.

Perfect. Perfect. Perfect.

She placed her whip and the briefcase Lady Night had given her as their actual birthday presents on a white marble side table, then got to work.

Without saying another word, she swayed toward the chairs, aware their gazes remained glued on her. Working slowly and as seductively as moving furniture around in a catsuit allowed, she arranged the chairs.

Her gaze drifted to them, and they looked completely bored with her, so bored they resorted to removing their suit jackets and ties to give them something to do. Whatever.

---