Page 6 of The Deceived

WINTER

Before I can blink, I’m scooped up in his arms.

Him. Fucking Rex Dean. The enemy himself.

Of all the damn people in this world, this is happening with him. I can’t say no or a single damn word that I want to because of the fucking NDA I signed. No way in hell I’ll forfeit my payday from this place once I fulfill my contract.

I’mnot giving up another thing to this piece of shit.

I almost lost it out there when I finally realized who stood before me. Years of planning and going through hell so I could exact my revenge almost slipped through my fingers. Luckily, my mission took priority over just beating him to death with a limb in the middle of the woods.

I want to see him suffer like he made my family suffer. I want him to lose everything that he holds dear. I grit my teeth so hard in annoyance that I’m certain one might have just cracked. I inhale through my nose and slowly exhale through my mouth. A futile exercise because I’m not certain anything can calm this rage inside me. I’m wrapped in his coat, cradled in his arms, imprisoned against his chest. His spicey scent wraps around me like a death shroud. I tense to keep from reaching out and choking him.

His eyes dart to mine. The most beautiful shade of green that I once dreamed about looking at me, just like they are now, with heated interest. Childish teenage dreams no longer occupy my thoughts where this man is concerned. That girl is gone because he destroyed her.He is only interested in one thing—himself. I can’t forget that. How could I even begin to forget? This man took everything from my family.Everything.Just because he could.

Having already lost my mother to cancer, I made a promise to my father while he lay on his deathbed that if it were the last thing I ever did on this earth, I would avenge our family.

The Honorable Governor Dean stole our company from under us, and everything went downhill after that. We lost our business, our home, our friends, and then one by one, my parents lost their lives. When my mother fell ill, we were too poor for proper care, housing, or food after Rex Dean stole everything. My father only made it a year after my mother’s passing. He was too tired and broken-hearted to live without her. I was seventeen, and I’ve been on my own ever since.

I lay my parents’ deaths at his feet.

So, the fact that I am now forced to be in the same room with this man, and pretend to enjoy his touch, is disgusting. It’s vile and reprehensible, but I will go through with whatever he has planned. I came here for money and connections so when I leave, I can use everything—every resource, every favor, every contact—to bring this man to his knees and restore my family name to the glory it once held. And Governor Dean is so powerful, I will need them all.

I won’t stop until everything he holds dear is stolen and destroyed and he is broken in every way. He needs to know that his actions have consequences. Everything comes too easily for him and I intend to change that.

And to think, once upon a time, I longed to be in this very spot with him.Delusions of a child’s imagination.

I remember when Rex first came to one of my father’s parties. I had just turned fourteen, and I couldn’t take my eyes off him. It was the first time a man had ever captured my interest in such a way. I gawked like a lovestruck fool from where I was perched in the corner of my parent’s atrium on my favorite silk settee.

I had no doubt my mother had created that little corner just for me. The nook was partially hidden from the main part of the massive, two-story glass atrium by lovely potted palms and other plants my mother loved to tend to. A side table was stuffed with my favorite books, should the mostly adult party begin to bore me. I was painfully shy as a child, and she created a place for me to hide while still enjoying their parties. They were extravagant affairs; no expense spared.

My mother was always the most beautiful woman in the room. And while my features are so similar to hers, she held an allure that I have yet to possess. I could watch her and my father for hours as they would chat with their friends and gracefully waltz across the stone floor.

Smiling. Happy. Perfect in my eyes. And alive.

I remember watching Rex from my preferred spot in the corner as he entered the room. He was younger then, and from the gossips who stood just outside of my potted sanctuary, in town on leave from the Army.

They said Rex was quickly rising through the ranks, an impressive feat, no doubt his name, money, family connections, and ivy league degree not hurting his odds.

The crisp black tux he wore that night clung to every hard line of his body, and his facial features appeared to be chiseled from granite. A blade of a nose, deep-set green eyes, overly plump, full lips, and a square jaw. Topped off by the thick, dark hair he wore slicked back from his perfect face.

He was art come to life, and I fell smitten.

I watched his every move that night. I watched as he laughed with the men and flirted with the women, and a ball of jealousy took root in my stomach. Because I was too young for him to notice, let alone flirt with. I was a child, and he was all man.

But now, here in his arms, those childish notions are dead, and I am just filled with rage and vengeance.

He carries me toward the bathroom as if I weigh nothing, kicking open the door with one booted foot, the lights turning on simultaneously. As nice as my room may be, this one is far larger and far more opulent.

Nothing but the best for Governor Dean.

He sets me onto my feet, but before I am able to comprehend anything else, he spins me to face him.

Although slightly aged, his beautiful face is still entirely too perfect, too handsome, and too damn close. I lean my head back to create some space, but he doesn’t seem to notice or care as he pushes his jacket off my shoulders and it drops to the floor at our feet. His hands leisurely move across my bare skin as if he has all the time in the world. He glides his touch from my shoulders down my arms, feeling, testing, tracing my flesh.

“Does this dress have a zipper?” His voice is husky, his eyes hooded, and I nervously swallow from being the focus of his intense stare.

“Y–y–yes, left side,” I babble, stumbling over my words.

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