Page 32 of Vicious Seduction

I prowled closer, ignoring the device. She relented andlowered her arm to her side, lifting her delicate chin defiantly. God, I wanted to bite it.

“This won’t work if you can’t pretend to like me.” I stalked closer.

She retreated, one step for each of mine until her back was against the wall.

I lifted my hands and savored the way her body reacted to the uncertainty of my touch. As much as she wanted to hate me, her body wasn’t so sure. I trailed my fingertips along the neckline of her gown until they met in the middle between her breasts, then back up before slipping my coat from her shoulders.

“Evening attire for the wedding. Nothing too fancy. I’ll be by to get you at five. Don’t be late.” I walked away with a smug grin as her shaky exhale filled my ears.

It hit me that if I’d found my first wife this intriguing, maybe I wouldn’t have ended up wanting to kill her.

What’s to say this won’t end the same?

Not a goddamn thing.

CHAPTER 16

LINA

Who the hellgot married on New Year’s Day? The world was hung over and exhausted. No one wanted to get dressed up and sit through a boring-ass ceremony of two people who would probably just end up divorced.

And when did you become a grumpy old shrew?

Ouch.

Okay, I deserved that. But this wedding business was seriously stressing me out. I’d gone through my wardrobe no less than a dozen times and still couldn’t decide what to wear. My mood had morphed from righteous indignation to something befitting a poisonous cactus—prickly and possibly deadly.

I couldn’t believe Oran was making memeet his entire family one day after framing andblackmailingme into a fake engagement. Who did that?

Oran Byrne, the most pigheaded, insufferable man I knew, that was who.

He would be here any minute to pick me up, and I was still in my underwear. I’d already done my hair and makeup, but it was the wardrobe that got me. Nothing seemed to saystrong, independent woman being held against her will by her not-so-real fiancé.

Go figure.

The wardrobe challenge was enough cause to have me running late, but holding up Oran’s schedule was also the best protest I had available to me. If he didn’t like it, he could hijack some other girl’s life.

I lowered the dress I’d been holding up, my stare unseeing as I envisioned how easily Oran could charm the pants off any girl he wanted. The image soured my mood even further—not because of how easy it would be for him but because of the odd irritation it stirred in me. The feeling stunk of jealousy, which was the very last thing I should feel where Oran Byrne was concerned.

By the time his knock sounded at the door, I was certifiably petulant.

“You have to wait. I’m not ready,” I hollered through the door.

“Open the door, Lina. I’m not waiting in the hall.”

“I will when I’m dressed.”

“I’ll give you to the count of three,” he called dryly.

I couldn’t believe he was serious. What the hell did he plan to do? Break down the damn door?

“Three.”

I crossed my arms and mentally dared him to do his worst.

“Two.”

And he would mostcertainlybe paying for the damages.

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