Page 1 of Vicious Seduction

CHAPTER 1

LINA

Free divers traintheir hearts to slow to a mere eleven beats per minute. I learned that from some television documentary and was fascinated. If only I’d been interested enough to remember how they acquired that kind of control.

My heart thudded with such ferocity that I was certain it would crack a rib.

That was what I got for voluntarily returning to the Olympus Club—the elusive playground of the city’s most wealthy and powerful. My sprinting heart rate wasn’t a result of excitement, however. I knew all too well that wealthy and powerful were just polite ways of saying entitled, hedonistic assholes who didn’t care who they trampled to get what they wanted.

I would know. I was born into that world.

General knowledge of the Olympus Club was extremely limited outside of the most elite circles. And within those groups, membership was highly coveted. People would do almost anything to get inside these solid mahogany doors—a fact I wished I didn’t know so well.

I’d been lucky enough to go as a guest several times now with the man I’d been seeing for the past couple of months. Lawrence Wellington—shipping mogul and one of the city’s most eligiblematurebachelors. He had a son not much younger than me, but I’d never met him. Fortunately, Lawrence didn’t exactly look his age. He still had plenty of dark hair with a touch of silver at his temples and kept himself fit with regular exercise.

Lawrence was taking our budding relationship surprisingly slow. I wasn’t entirely sure if it was out of caution or an innate indifference to anything but the acquisition of power. Not that he needed more. The stuff radiated off him like the dirt cloud around that Pig-Pen character in thePeanutscartoons. Everyone around him seemed to respond as though that aura of power scrambled their brains, making them prattle inanely or shower him with compliments.

Knowing he was used to such lavish attention, I wasn’t sure he’d give me a second look when I approached him. I went with a more aloof approach, and it worked. That and my often coveted genetics—blond hair, blue eyes, full lips and a statuesque frame of long legs and a large chest. All of it natural. A gift and a curse. All I had to do was walk into a room for all eyes to be drawn my way. I’d prefer to be invisible, but we didn’t choose our genetics. And I couldn’t totally complain. My looks had benefited me almost as much as they’d hindered me.

Tonight, I was using them to my full advantage. Scarlet-red dress hugging my body, the back open nearly down to my ass. The cut had to be perfectly tailored for the dress to stay on. I’d pinned my hair up in a stylish pile of curls to expose my neck and accentuate the dip of the dress.

In my experience, men loved the sight of a woman’s neck. Delicacy and vulnerability were always attractive to predators. In this instance, I was happy to be the prey.

And to ensure my success, I painted my lips and nails the perfect shade of crimson. If all eyes weren’t drawn to me before, they certainly were now. I looked like I was walking the red carpet for the Oscars, and though it might have only been an average Wednesday night, this was the Olympus Club. Every night was a red carpet night at Olympus.

“What did you think of the duck? Last week, it was overcooked,” Lawrence asked as he sat back and sipped his wine.

I patted my lips with the white linen napkin, not a hint of lipstick marring the cloth, then placed it beside my finished plate. “It wasn’t bad tonight and paired well with the white you chose.” I took a sip from my glass. “Cards tonight?”

“Taking money off someone at the card table might help me overlook a less-than-ideal day at the office.” He downed his last drops of wine and stood before helping me from my chair.

The dining room was small but not crowded. Everything about Olympus was intimate yet opulent, with a dark color palette and warm accent lights. A modern version of old-world wealth, the decor of wood and stone finishes was softened with warm leathers and velour fabrics but not in the ornate style from the past. Everything was very tastefully designed, with clean lines and simple elegance. I had to give the designer credit for a job well done.

Across from the dining room was a gaming room used for socials and after-dinner entertainment. Each of the four timesLawrence had invited me to the weekly club dinner, there’d been poker tables in play throughout the evening. Tonight, it appeared four tables were already occupied, leaving one available.

Lawrence paused our progress, his hand at my lower back creeping around my waist to signal our stop. When I peered back at him, I was shocked to see the hint of a snarl twist his lips.

As far as I’d been able to tell, Lawrence Wellington didn’t show emotion.

“What is it?” I asked discreetly.

“It would seem entry standards here are growing lax.”

I followed his gaze to the two men conversing at the far table. One was bearded with a scholarly bow tie and an epic comb-over. I could only see the other man’s profile, but it was all that was necessary to know he was breathtakingly handsome. Chiseled jaw, strong brow line, and a well-proportioned nose over full lips, the bottom larger than the top. His dark brown hair was styled back, not a strand out of place, and his black tux squared his broad shoulders to the exacting specifications of an expert tailor. Nothing about that man denoted riffraff. And judging by the gumball-sized diamond on the other man’s pinky finger, he wasn’t hurting either. I was curious about what Lawrence found distasteful.

“We could always call it a night,” I offered, hoping he might finally ask me back to his place. I’d been seeing the man for three months, and not once had he taken me home with him.

“No. No one is running me out of this club or anywhere else.” He walked us to the back table, his stride measured yet confident.

A quick peek at Lawrence told me the handsome younger man held his ire. Interesting.

“Wellington, good of you to join us,” said the bearded man. “I’d like to introduce you to Oran here on his first night with us. He’s just joined the club.”

The man named Oran stood and turned to greet us, and I nearly gasped at the sight of him. His profile was impressive, but full-on, he was exquisite masculine perfection. And tall. I’d grown used to standing eye to eye with men. In conservative heels, I was an inch taller than Lawrence. But the gray-eyed Adonis before me had to be at least six-four and every inch brimming with swagger.

Gorgeousandloaded? He’d probably never been told no in his entire life.

I was repulsed.

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