Page 10 of Beautiful Vengeance

Everything was immaculate, each room furnished to exacting standards. He hated the place. It reminded him too much of his childhood house, which had been more a prison than a home.

He opened the French-style doors and stepped out onto the wide balcony, the soft breeze washing over him and the sea rolling against the beach a few hundred yards away.

“You’re here,” an impatient voice said from the corner. “Good.”

He faced her and put on a smile. “Hello, Mother.”

She struggled up from her seat and maneuvered into her walker. “Come. We’ll eat.”

“You’re looking well,” he said when she got close.

She scoffed. “My body’s falling apart. I wish I was dead.”

He wished that too. Though he would never say it to her face.

She shuffled past him without another glance. And as much as he should be used to the rebuffs by now, dammit, it still hurt. Just once he wanted her to see him. See him and care.

Feeling like a prisoner serving out a sentence, he followed her back inside and to the dining room. If the house bothered him, this room was ten times worse.

On the antique sideboard at the end of the long table was a collection of framed photos. Of the two-dozen or so on display, only one included him—a family shot taken six years ago. The rest were of his dead father and brother.

His mother kept them on display because she was still grieving their losses…but also to remind him that the best parts of her life were gone forever. That no matter what he did or how successful he was, he would never be enough for her.

“How long are you staying for?” she asked as Fayez pushed her chair in for her.

“I’m leaving in a few hours.”

Her shrewd brown eyes cut to him. “Ah. Urgent business in Damascus, I suppose.”

“Yes.” She didn’t know what he did exactly. Because she didn’t care.

She didn’t give a shit about anything he did because he would never measure up to his sainted father and brother who’d been killed in the war. Didn’t give a shit about him at all apart from him supporting her in the lifestyle she’d become accustomed to.

When his father and brother had been alive, things had been different. He’d mattered. Now…all that was gone. And he resented her for every breath she took.

“I saw a picture of you with a woman awhile ago,” she said as she spooned up a mouthful of the soup served for the starter course.

He grunted. “Where did you see that?”

She waved a hand. “Someone sent it to me. You were at a charity gala or something, all dressed up.”

He stiffened in his seat. The last charity event he’d attended had been… “What did she look like?”

“Young. Asian. Attractive girl wearing a gold dress. Are you still seeing her?”

His stomach clenched into a hard ball. He wasn’t even sure why his mother was asking, since she never cared about anything he did. “No.”

His leaden tone gave him away because she paused to look down the table at him. “Was it serious?”

He’d thought it was. At first. “No,” he bit out.

“That’s not what I heard.” There was a distinctly smug edge to her voice as she spooned up another mouthful of soup.

“Well, you heard wrong.” They ate in silence for a minute, while acid churned in his gut. “Who sent it to you?” he finally asked, because he couldn’t let it go.

“An acquaintance at the gala. Why?”

Because I’ll do anything to get her back.As the substantial bounty he’d offered proved.

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