Page 6 of Vicious Seduction

No one grows up without a few issues. She had the money to get a fucking shrink. She should have done that instead of hooking up with men twice her age. Or at least had the wherewithal to find someone halfway decent to cozy up to. Wellington hadn’t even pulled out the goddamn chair for her. And when I’d suggested a night with her, just to see how he’d react, he'd considered it for a fraction of a second. I saw it in his eyes. I would have missed the telling flash had I not been intentionally watching for it.

What a fucking pig.

I couldn’t wait to see his smug face once I’d crippled his shipping empire and muddied his name so badly that no one in a thousand-mile radius would look at him.

It was coming. Soon.

And while Lina might not have been his one true love, I’d take her from him too. The man had an ego to rival a self-appointed dictator, and I wanted to cut him down in every way possible.

Death would have been too easy. Wellington needed to suffer.

He’d enabled sex traffickers. He knew his son was a fucking psychopath abusing and killing women, yet instead of stopping him, Lawrence Wellington set him up with a source to ensure his fetishes weren’t discovered. One of thewomen he’d killed had been an acquaintance of mine—a girl who’d worked at one of our clubs. When I learned how he’d been involved, I decided to take on a mission of vengeance. Wellington had to pay for his actions just as dearly as the people he’d hurt. I was going to savor every minute of his downfall, and only when he was at his lowest, once he knew his entire life had been an utter failure, would I consider killing the fucker. Slowly and painfully.

The Wellington mansion was an austere memorial to days past. A stone exterior with carved elements that had to have cost a fortune even back when it was first built, it was one of a handful of well-preserved single-family mansions in the exclusive Lennox Hill neighborhood.

Many properties had been updated or fallen into disrepair. Wellington’s statuesque home looked almost as pristine as it had one hundred years ago. Not even the steadily falling rain could soften the foreboding look of the place.

I could see why Wellington had selected it. I hated it, but I could see whyhewould have chosen it. No one would dare question the clout of a man who owned such an obelisk of history and wealth.

Fucking narcissist.

When I rang the bell, a short, older woman answered with a smile. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, I have an appointment with Mr. Wellington.”

“Your name?”

“Oran Byrne.”

She dipped her chin and stepped back to allow me inside. “Mr. Wellington is expecting you. If you’ll wait there in the lounge, he’ll be with you shortly.”

She took my coat from me, the heavy wool dotted with rain, and hung it on an ornate entry piece off to the side. The inside of the home lived up to every expectation the exterior had created. The entry floor was a checkerboard of black and white marble with a polished sheen. A large spiral staircase wrapped around the edge of the circular room, the decorative iron spindles supporting the rail only outdone by the plaster carvings beneath. Every wall was detailed with gold wainscoting, and the chandelier overhead could have belonged to Rockefeller himself.

No expense had been spared. No detail bypassed.

And the lounge to the right was the same. Even the high ceilings were artfully decorated with a coordinating plaster embossing, and large palatial windows were dressed with tassel-lined satin drapes. The place could have been a museum. It was unquestionably impressive and just about the worst place to live I could imagine.

I was conducting a loop around the room when a section of wall hinged open beside me, and Lina rushed out. She collided flush with my chest, gasping as she bounced off me. I grabbed her arms to keep her from stumbling backward into what appeared to be a small powder room.

That was when it hit me that she was soaked.

Her ivory silk blouse clung to her like a second skin, exposing every intricate detail of the black lace bra she wore beneath. Lips parted and hair still clumped in damp, wavy strands, she peered up at me with wide blue eyes. It was the sexiest goddamn thing I’d ever seen.

Fucking Christ.

CHAPTER 5

LINA

“You can let go now.”Why the hell did I sound like I’d just had the best orgasm of my life? Breathless and disbelieving. In awe, if you will. Not atallhow I wanted to sound when stumbling into Oran Byrne’s arms.

My body had a mind of its own where he was concerned.

I was usually a pro at appearing unruffled, but I’d been thrown off my game by a damn coffee delivery truck. The blazer I’d been wearing wasn’t ideal in the rain, but I managed fine until the matchbox-sized mini truck raced through a puddle by the curb and shot up a rooster tail of water that completely drenched me. I’d been scrambling to mentally catchup ever since.

“Trust me,” Oran said in a dark murmur. “I know exactly what I can and can’t do.”

His hands stayed put for several eternal seconds before lowering. It was as if to ensure I knew he was releasing me because he was ready, not because I’d asked. I hadn’t realized how warm his hands were until they were gone, the loss making me shiver.

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