Page 45 of Turmoil's Target

I lift my own flute, the bubbles tickling my nose as we clink glasses and take a sip.

The champagne is sweet and cool on my tongue, but it does little to wash away the bitter taste of guilt that lingers.

Forcing a smile onto my face, I engage my mother in small talk as I wonder what I’ll do when this quest for vengeance is over.

I feel like for so many years all I’ve been focused on is avenging my father.

As our meeting wraps up and I step out into the bustling heat of the Vegas Strip, I can’t help but glance down at the text message from Abe that lights up my phone screen.

Can’t wait to see you tonight.

I approach the town car that waits for me and my driver steps out, opening the door for me.

I slide inside and he swiftly shuts it. The moment I’m in the car, everything hits me.

We’re so close to taking down the club.

Soon enough we’ll be destroying them.

We’ll be making them pay.

It should be easy, like slipping into a role I was born to play.

The drive is a blur and before I know it I’m striding into my massive bathroom, shedding my business attire like a second skin.

Tonight, I’m going to show Abe just how bold and sexy I can really be.

I slip into the dress I just got in a few days ago—a barely-there scarlet silk that clings to every curve.

All I have to do is put a sexy shade of shimmer on my lids, red rouge lipstick on my lips, and I’ll have my hair tumbling artfully over one bare shoulder.

A spritz of intoxicating perfume at my wrists, behind my ears.

And, I’m done.

The Seraphina in the mirror oozes pure sex, a crimson-lipped temptress without a conscience.

I practice a coy smile, imagining Abe’s azure eyes darkening with lust, his strong hands skimming over my exposed skin.

My pulse quickens traitorously.

God, I crave his touch.

I ache for the rasp of his stubble against my inner thighs.

I turn away from my reflection’s knowing eyes and look at the time.

Okay, I just have to wait an hour or so, and then I can head out.

Tonight, I’ll devour him whole and not leave a single crumb behind.

Time flies by and before I know it I’m in the club.

It’s throbbing with pulsing beats as I step inside, the air thick with sweat, alcohol, and primal energy.

I scan the crowd, my gaze drawn to him like a magnet—Abe in all his rugged glory, leaning against the bar with lazy confidence.

Our eyes lock across the room, a crackling current arcing between us.

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