Page 148 of Trust Me

“Why are you telling me all of this?”

“Because you’re about to walk that stupid husband of yours right to his demise. In a week there’s going to be a press conference. It’ll be hosted by Ryan Nick.”

“The alderman?” The name is familiar.

“Yeah.”

“Who is he to you?” I ask.

“He’s my— that’s none of your business!” Dean suddenly blurts out as if he realized he was about to give me more information than intended. “Just have him there at the press conference. I don’t give a fuck how you do it. That fucker is going down.”

The phone clicks, and I realize Dean has hung up the phone.

Surprise catches me when I look up to see a smile on Kyle’s face.

“Do you know what the press conference is about?”

He shakes his head.

“Then why are you grinning like that?”

“Because he just told us who he’s been working with.” His lips spread even more. “And revenge is going to be sweet.”

A silence falls between us.

“That bullshit aside,” he says, his voice seductively low.

Kyle runs the tip of his finger under my lip and down my chin to my neck. Goosebumps sprout up along my arms.

“I’ve missed being inside of you all fucking day.”

My nipples harden from the way his eyes narrow.

“Show me,” I whisper.

The last word barely has a chance to make it out of my mouth before he’s on top of me. Kyle makes love to me slowly. Even as my phone starts to ring again, sometime later, he doesn’t let me up for air.

In that silly place in the back of my mind, the space that once held out hope of having a real father or even an older brother who loved me for me, I begin to wish that Kyle and I could be like this forever.

That this marriage was about more than revenge.

CHAPTER35

Kyle

The following morning, I’m filled with anticipation as I wait in the basement offices of Townsend Industries. This is one of the few places in this building that only a handful of people, mainly family members, knows about.

“You’re lucky I love you, kid,” Uncle Brutus says. “Dragging my ass out of bed early as shit for this,” he mutters in the corner of the dank room.

I chuckle.

“What he said,” my father adds but even more tersely.

It’s six-thirty in the morning. “You both could’ve stayed home. I can handle these two on my own.”

My father snorts. “I want to see you in action.”

“Same,” my uncle adds.

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