Page 40 of Vicious Seduction

The red dress she’d worn at the club the first night after I’d joined had been incredible. I thought having her wear it would be the perfect jab at Wellington. The problem was, now that I’d seen her in the crimson fabric that clung to her like a second skin and exposed her entire back in the most seductive way possible, I couldn’t stand the idea of sharing her—even the sight of her—with anyone. Not when I knew every dirty bastard in that club would jack off to the memory of her.

I would know. I’d done the same more than I cared to admit.

“It’s cold out. You’ll freeze,” I told her.

“I’ll wear a coat.”

“Jesus, can’t you just follow a simple instruction for once?”

“No, I can’t. If that’s what you wanted out of yourfake fiancée, you chose the wrong girl.” She glared at me with rabid intensity. I met her stare with equal fervor, speaking clearly without saying a single word that she was exactly who I’d meant to choose.

“Fine,” I finally grumbled. “Get your coat. Let’s go.”

She snatched a heavy black dress coat off the back of a chair. After sliding an arm in one sleeve, I helped her with the other. She gave me an odd look but allowed me to assist.

“You know, it’s a little strange that we’re supposed to be engaged, but I don’t have a ring. Not to say you have to buy one,” she hurried to add. “I would have worn something I already owned if I had anything appropriate. Just thought it might sell the story better.” Her gaze darted everywhere but at me.

I’d wanted to fuck the feisty side of her two minutes earlier, but this rare glimpse of vulnerability didn’t make me want to fuck her.

It made me want toownher.

I pulled out a small velvet box from my coat pocket and opened the lid. I’d known the ring was hers from the moment I saw it at the jeweler. The asscher cut of the main diamond along with the three baguettes on either side gave the ring an Art Deco look—sophisticated and unique. Exquisite, like her.

When I took the ring in my fingers and held out my hand for hers, Lina stared in shock.

“Your hand,” I prompted, fighting back my amusement.

Her left had floated upward without her eyes leaving the ring. “Oran, it’s breathtaking. You didn’t have to … I mean, I hope you didn’t spend too much.”

I slid the ring on her finger, and fuck if it wasn’t the most satisfying thing I’d ever done.

“You did spend too much,” she whispered as she took a closer look. “And I’m not giving it back.”

I slid my hand around the back of her neck, bringing her wide gaze to mine. “Wouldn’t have given it to you if I wanted it back.”

Fuck if I didn’t want to kiss her senseless, but I was already swimming in a dangerous cocktail of emotions. The last thing I needed was to confuse the situation any further and end up drowning.

I allowed my thumb one slow caress of her cheek before I let my hand fall away. “Time to go.”

Our arrival at the club went as expected. While we got drinks at the bar, we were the subject of stares and whispers as word got around about our sudden engagement.

I was extra attentive to Lina, but it wasn’t just part of the show. I found myself wanting to be near her to shield her. A tendril of guilt had slithered into my conscience over the position I’d put her in. When I’d switched tactics and coerced her into the relationship, I hadn’t exactly thought through how she might feel about being a spectacle—the girl who’d jumped from one man’s bed to another in a small social circle. It wasn’t a flattering light.

In my original plan, she was a witless bit of arm candy who wouldn’t care what others thought as long as she’d secured the biggest fish in the pond. That wasn’t Lina. I didn’t know who she was exactly, but it wasn’t a gold digger.

I was even hesitant for her to leave my side when she excused herself to the bathroom before dinner. If I was going to put her in a vulnerable position, the least I could do was protect her as best I could. Had escorting her to the toilet beenan option, I would have done it. Though I was glad I hadn’t when her stepfather approached me the moment she disappeared. I was eager to finally meet him.

Charles Brooks was the stereotypical result of new money. In the seventies, he’d made his initial fortune from a sizable investment in high-risk, high-yield stocks. From what I’d gathered about the man, he was quick to leave his immigrant parents and modest upbringing in the past. Charles had money, and he liked people to know it.

I hadn’t had the opportunity to talk with either of Lina’s parents yet and had been hoping to get the chance. They’d lost her favor in a big way. Now that I knew her better, I suspected I wouldn’t like them either, but I wanted to see for myself.

“Charles Brooks.” The waif-like man extended his hand. “We haven’t had the chance to meet.”

“Oran Byrne.” Shaking his hand was like holding a cold, wet chicken cutlet. I had to fight back the urge to wipe my hand on my pant leg afterward. “You’re Lina’s stepfather, correct?”

“Yes, and I hear congratulations are in order. Quite the surprise.” He lifted his drink in the air, and I mirrored him, though neither of us drank.

“Sometimes these things fall into place unexpectedly.”

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