Page 24 of Vengeful Seduction
“So when do you want me to, you know, step in?” Brent asked, pulling me from my thoughts. I looked at him with a smile, though it didn’t feel natural on my lips.
“At the wedding,” I decided. “Which I think will probably be in just a few months.” I was already moving quite fast and definitely had no intention of slowing down, no matter what those inconvenient little twinges of conscience said. Nor the little shocks of pain that went through me when I thought about Brent touching Kaye or about her moaning and arching toward anyone else as he slid inside her.
Getting possessive over a woman had never really been the sort of thing to happen to me before. I had never let myself get close enough to one. It was an uncomfortable feeling, and I found myself having to push it away time after time.
“Okay, perfect,” Brent smirked, and it was a relief to me when he seemed oblivious to how strangely I’d been feeling about the whole thing. Not that I was having doubts, I assured myself. I still wanted what was mine.
It was just that maybe Kaye could feel like mine, if I let her.
“So you sweep her off her feet and into bed, and then marry her,” Brent plotted, and I forced myself to meet his smirk with one of my own. “Then I’ll meet her at the wedding, ask her to dance, and I’ll tumble her into bed myself with indecent haste.”
I let a deep, deep breath soothe me and forced my head to nod in agreement. Just think of the money, I told myself. Think about the betrayal of grandfather leaving everything to Kaye, who was almost a stranger. I was his own flesh and blood. I was the rightful heir. Why would he do such a hateful thing if not because of something she’d done?
Even thinking about Brent dancing with her at my wedding, though, could be enough to really anger me. If I let it. So the trick was not to let it, and I thought I was equal to the task. After all, I’d been with many women and none of them had ever gotten their claws into me.
I knew better. After what my mother had done to my father—and to me—I would never trust a woman. I wouldn’t make the same mistakes he had. No matter how sweet Kaye seemed, she was still a woman and she would betray me.
Which was the whole point. I was going to use her nature against her and let her inevitable betrayal benefit me. It was a small way of getting revenge, not only against my grandfather and against her, but also against my mother. Maybe she would never know, but I would and I thought it would be enough.
So I smirked at my best friend and nodded. “Yep, that’s the plan.”
It was a good plan too. Simple. In my experience, those were the plans that worked the best—the ones without too many bells and whistles.
Kaye would never know what had hit her, as long as Brent and I could pull it off. Simple didn’t mean easy, and I knew if either of us pushed too fast, we could scare her off.
Still, I was on the right track and I knew I could do this. I would have everything I wanted soon enough, with just a little bit of patience. Just a little bit of pushing. Not too fast, but just enough to keep her off balance and intrigued without scaring her off.
It was a thin line and I was going to have to walk it carefully. The rewards were astronomical, though, and it was more than worth it.
Glancing at Brent, I knew he would do his part flawlessly. He always had women flinging themselves at him, and Kaye, I figured, would be no exception.
“You and I are both going to be very wealthy men,” I commented and laughed as I raised a bottle of beer in a slightly mocking toast.
“To money,” he said, while I clinked my glass bottle to his.
“To money,” I echoed, and then added, forcing a nonchalance that I didn’t quite feel, “To Kaye.”
“To Kaye,” Brent repeated.
To Kaye. The woman who was going to make all of our dreams come true. Whether she knew it or not.
Chapter 7
Kaye
An odd, nervous, excited energy filled me as I got ready for my first real date.
Of course I had been out with people and done fun things with them, and some of those people had been men. But to go out, one-on-one, in a distinctly romantic context—I had never allowed myself to do that before.
David had told me to dress up, and as I glanced in the mirror, I had to admit I looked good. I rarely found occasions to wear anything fancy, but I’d picked a scarlet dress that somehow made my green eyes shine even brighter and set off my dark hair perfectly.
I tried not to blush when I saw how the bright fabric clung to my hips and breasts and made my waist look tiny. I looked sexy. Hot. Not at all how I would usually dress.
I even had heels on.
The look on David’s face when I opened the door to his knock made the whole thing worth it. His absolute delight was obvious as he scanned me from head to toe—but in a way, that made me feel beautiful and cherished, not cheap. He had some skills, I had to admit.
“You look beautiful,” he breathed, and I believed him. I both thought he saw me that way and thought that I actually was, which was fantastic.
