Riske and Revenge: A Second Chance, Enemies Romance (Revenge series Book 1) Read online

  But I was no longer a horny teenage boy, obsessed with Bruce Willis movies and bare-backing any pretty girl that passed. Well…at least, the bare-backing part was true enough…

  I gave Christy the coldest look I could. “Look, Christy, I’m going to be honest with you. It’s good to see that you’re doing well…” I was working on not lying… “But you’ll excuse me, if I make myself a little scarce this evening, I have a lot of people to meet, hands I promised to shake…”

  Her pretty face fell. “You must have talked to my husband. I mean, technically, we’re moving here because of his new promotion…” She pulled her shoulders back. “So, if you did, I have to tell you that we’re…”

  I held my hand up. “Whoa. Take a breath… I haven’t talked to any ‘husband,’ Christy. But if I had… I’d have been gone faster than what you’re about to see right now. So, with that, I’ll say ‘It was nice seeing you, I hope you have a lovely evening, and if you meet a man named Lukas Griffin, do all of us a favor… Run.” I touched her elbow gently. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

  I was barely clear of Christy when I rounded the corner and ran smack-dab into fucking trouble.

  I caught sight of the shimmering dress first before I saw her face. I took in the elegant red outfit that covered her thigh to shoulder before I let my gaze creep its way up into her eyes and hair. She wasn’t facing me. In fact, she hadn’t even seen me. She was talking quickly to a redhead that was just on her rear. Silver earrings dangled from her earlobes and as she motioned towards her equally as animated partner, they swung, shining into her blue eyes to create this chandelier effect. Everything on her seemed to sparkle—from the tips of her shiny shoes to her even shinier hair.

  And as she looked up, our eyes accidentally met across the room. Her long lashes widened, reaching for the sky. She stared at me in misty wonder, her irises going glassy as they stared—stuck, unblinkingly, in my direction holding me completely fixed to the carpeted floor.

  It was Kat… and it was the angel. The beautiful fairy from the fire, who I stupidly and shockingly hadn’t recognized—not fully anyway. I had pondered for days why I couldn’t get the pretty mythological creature out of my mind. And in that instant, I knew why.

  Because I had seen those round, wide eyes in my dreams for nearly a decade…

  But in those fantasies they had been lustful and heavily hooded. Not open and angry—not slowly slanting as they were now, stabbing with the hate of a thousand Hell-holes.

  She turned on her heel and spun in the other direction. It was then that I noticed that her dress was low-cut below her neck—revealing. Smooth, lightly freckled skin retreated to the other side of the room and out of it, and I almost dropped my drink to follow, her name a shout in the back of my throat that wouldn’t come out.

  My mind screamed Kat! I started to follow her. Until someone else’s body came bum-rushing into mine. I glanced up. It was Chris.

  “We’ve got to get him out of here,” he huffed, his face red, his ginger-colored hair almost as bright as the hue in his twisting neck as he glanced behind him. I saw what was causing his ire—a drunken Griff, slightly swerving in our direction, his green eyes bright and mischievously bold. He leaned in, smelling like a distillery.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he cried out loud. “This is a party, not a mortuary. And so what, I grabbed DeeDree Brighton’s huge left tit? It was staring right at me. If you hadn’t intervened, I’d be bedding her right now, instead of listening to you lecture me about some cocked-up principles of propriety. What’s a decent Summit without the promise of sex?”

  “A normal one,” I stated. I could barely look at the both of them. My head was swimming. In fact, it had taken a dive off the deep end and landed in a pool of fucking “Pitiful”—all for a woman who’d called me “dick-less” just a few nights before.

  And I didn’t give a damn.

  All I knew was that I had to get my hands on Kat—one way or another. I’d let her slip through my fingers before. I wasn’t about to let her get away again… even if I was technically the one that had upped and left.

  I started to search around, but Chris punched my shoulder, jerking his head in the direction of our headstrong best friend. I knew, if left to his own devices, Griff could potentially tear this party (and some married couples) apart. I put one hand on his shoulder and with some prodding and pushing helped Chris to escort our favorite ball-busting bachelor out of the main ballroom hall.

  I glanced behind me, hoping that by some magical fate, the woman I’d been waiting for wouldn’t go too far. It was a far-fetched wish, but I had prayed for worst.

  I prayed for patience. I prayed for sanity. And nine long years ago, I’d prayed that God would forgive me for fucking up the life of a young, beautiful girl—a girl turned formidable woman who I just couldn’t seem to shake…

  Beauty and the Beast

  Time perfects men as well as destroys them.

  - Chanakya

  KAT

  I was going to be sick. I was definitely sick.

  My makeup was running. My hair was going to shit, and my dress was twisted up all wrong. If you had asked me right then, I’d say that my jewelry had lost all of its luster, because at the moment? I was losing my ever-fucking-loving mind and nothing about my night could go right because he was here.

  The crash of ’29. My emotional Titanic.

  Fingers braced along the bathroom marble, my head hung nearly to my elbows, I braced myself against the restroom counters in the Mandalay Hotel, trying not to faint. Something had told me not to come to this Literature Today Summit, but I had ignored it. I had ignored that funny feeling, the same sort of instincts that had probably told me to stay away from Ethan Riske.

  I didn’t trust my own thoughts to steer me the right away. The only thing they’d done correctly was to direct me to the nearest toilet. If I didn’t calm down, I was going to throw up… and ruin any chance that I could walk out with dignity… if I could walk out at all.

  I sighed so deeply I felt it in my soul.

  Suddenly, the door opened. A voice sounded from behind me.

  “Holy Chris Hemsworth.” Laney put a hesitant hand on my back. “What the hell happened to you?”’

  “Twenty-six years of bad fucking luck,” I groaned into the sink. “I think I just saw a ghost. No, screw that. I know I just saw one.” I turned to her, leaning against the sink. I felt sick again just thinking his name. “Ethan Riske.”

  “Ethan…” Her blue eyes blanked for a second, recognition slowly sinking in. “‘Ethan Riske,’ Ethan? Your Ethan?”

  “Correction,” I held up a finger, feeling queasy. “He was never my Ethan…” I shook my head. “He was never anybody’s Ethan. And I don’t know what he’s doing here, what he wants. What he could possibly say to me after all these years of being the scum of the fucking Earth.”

  “Scum?” Laney’s eyes widened. “I thought we had already assumed he was dead. Pretty sure we had a faux burial that summer. I’m also pretty positive I never got my rosary beads back…” Her voice and gaze trailed off into space. “Anyway.” She shook the thought off. “He’s here… and he had the audacity to try to speak to you?”

  “No… Maybe. Ugh, I don’t know… He was too far for me to tell. But he opened his mouth like he was going to say something, and all the while, I had that sinking feeling in my stomach. You know… the one you get on a roller coaster? I was standing perfectly still but my insides were dropping to the freaking floor.” I put a hand on my head. “I’m not well.”

  “You don’t look it.”

  “I can’t breathe.”

  “Yes,” Laney approached me, placing her hands on my shoulders. “You definitely can. Look at you. You’re a CEO now. Ethan Riske is probably someone’s newspaper boy. Remember…? The guy couldn’t keep his hands out of the cookie jar nine years ago…”

  “You mean, my cookie jar,” I muttered.

  “And now here’s your chance to stick it
to the prick. Show him what a boss you are now. You’re a businesswoman. You’re beautiful. Your breasts are bigger than they used to be when we were seventeen, and your legs and hips finally filled out from all that Pilates.”

  I shrugged a shoulder. “Gee, thanks.”

  “All I’m saying is that you’re fucking hot. Hotter than that dickless dill-weed. You’re going to make connections at this Summit and turn this company around. The fire was only a little setback. Our crew is right behind you, and as the captain of this ship, we’re taking this ride with you. Come Hell… or teenaged asshole. What do you say?”

  I took a huge gulp of the air. Fanning myself, I finally found the will to breathe, to inhale some confidence in and get rid of the rest because I was going back out there. To possibly face the biggest love failure of my life.

  Ethan Riske. Former teenaged asshole. And still the best sex I ever had.

  I didn’t know who he was after all these years; all I knew… was that I hated his fucking guts. He had stunted my ability to believe in the good of love and all that jazz. I had given that prick of an ex-employee Greg Sears a chance because of Ethan Riske, because in those years A.E. (After-Ethan), my dickhead radar was seriously off. All because of a man who was the dickiest of dicks—the type to make a girl fall in love and then disappear.

  I gave Laney my best smile. With her watching, I headed out of the elegant bathroom with my head held high. I had no choice. Because I was bluffing my cheeks off.

  From the look of Ethan’s tux, he was nobody’s paperboy. And secondly, there wasn’t anything hotter than the “dick-less dillweed.” He had remained fucking gorgeous—even more beautiful than he’d been before. My heart beat hard just thinking about him.

  I may have been the CEO… but Laney was wrong. It was Ethan who was the boss. I’d given him control of my heart the day he stepped into my life. And now I needed it back. Because my heart stopped as soon as I saw his handsome face again, even after all of these years.

  Surviving Ethan Riske was a miracle I’d only had to do once. I wasn’t quite sure I could do it again.

  ***

  The clock struck ten. The party was over… for the night.

  Day 1 of the Summit wound down, and as each publisher, writer, agent, general book groupie filed out of the many halls in the banquet and event rooms, I fell in step with them. I was doing my best to blend in with the crowd, to disappear amongst the drunk, half-happy people. Cabs and town-cars lined up to take partygoers to their respective hotels, and as the lights of the Literature Today Summit dimmed, I hopped in the nearest taxi with Laney, crossing my legs to keep them from shaking, nodding to nothing as Laney rattled off stories about who she’d met, what’d she eaten—who’d she screw, if given the chance.

  Her night was going much better than mine. And yet her retelling of it went in one ear and out the other.

  I couldn’t get the champagne—or Ethan—out of my system.

  In the midst of the warm but misty September night, I shivered under the sophisticated dress I’d picked out just for tonight. And even when I parted ways with Laney in the hall of the hotel and headed to my suite, I couldn’t get rid of the awful chill, that shudder that slinks down your spine when a pair of eyes are on you.

  It was as if someone were watching me…

  I closed the door tightly behind me before falling backwards on the king-sized bed, and with my arms outstretched across the sheets, I found myself reaching for my work computer on the nightstand, sliding it out onto the covers beside me and sitting upright so I could place it on my lap.

  I took a deep breath and opened it, knowing exactly what I hoped to see. And to nobody’s surprise, he was on, the online emblem shining bright green beside his name. I didn’t hesitate. I typed away. I had no fucking clue what made me do it…

  Katarina:

  Don’t you ever go to bed?

  His response was immediate.

  Brendon:

  Depends on what you mean by “bed”…

  My breath caught as he continued typing.

  I’m kidding. I’m in bed, actually… Got a lot on my mind. Couldn’t sleep. We “ball-less” dudes tend to be insomniacs. Funny. They don’t really mention that in the Eunuchs manual…

  I bit my lip, replying back.

  Katarina:

  Sorry about that. Seriously. I might have been a bit out of line with you last night. Now, I don’t think the topic of conversation was entirely appropriate, but… I didn’t have to barbecue and fillet you like that. We both were assholes. It just… took me encountering an even BIGGER asshole tonight to realize that I was a little wrong. For my part, I apologize.

  Shockingly, saying the words “I’m sorry” even to someone like Brendon Foxx felt good. The strange part about it all? I actually didn’t hate the guy. He was just doing what he thought was best for his company. And working with Greg Sears didn’t make him Greg Sears. I never really did give Brendon the benefit of the doubt.

  I just assumed the worst… Per usual.

  A message from him popped up.

  Brendon:

  Don’t sweat it. I deserved it after acting like such a self-righteous prick. Not saying I won’t act like a prick again but… I did try to push your buttons. And you beat me at my own game. Gotta respect that.

  Katarina:

  Hmm. To tell you the truth, I do respect what you’ve managed to do with your business. It may not seem like it, but one day, I’m hoping we can put this all past us and find some equal footing. It’d be a cold day in Hell before I work with Greg Sears. But the day you fire him, feel free to give me a call. The “ball-breaker” manual says that I don’t have to be a bitch… ALL the time.

  I chuckled to myself.

  Have a good night, Mr. Foxx.

  His reply was lightning fast.

  Brendon:

  That’s it? I feel like I’ve been left hanging. You threw out a piece of a story and bailed… I want to know about the “asshole” you met tonight, the one that caused this change of heart. I’m open to meeting the mythological shithead that made ME look like less of a dick in your eyes…

  I rolled those same eyes, smiling.

  Katarina:

  Hardy-Har-Har.

  I wrote the words with little humor, but Brendon said nothing back. I kept going.

  Katarina:

  He’s nobody. Just an old friend…

  Still, no response. I took a deep breath, placing my hands back on the keys.

  Katarina:

  It’s not important.

  Brendon:

  Doesn’t sound that way.

  Katarina:

  It’s a long, boring story.

  Brendon:

  I’m sure I’ve heard worse…

  Katarina:

  Seriously. It’s silly teenage, sob shit.

  Brendon:

  Lucky me. I’ve got tissues. Go on…

  He said it so matter-of-factly. Then, another surprise.

  Brendon:

  Honestly, I want to know more about you. It’s been so long…

  His typing stopped before it reappeared.

  Brendon:

  …since I’ve talked about anything but business. I swear I didn’t sign up for this shit.

  I smiled.

  Katarina:

  You’re the CEO of your company.

  Brendon:

  Yeah, and you’d think that would mean I could make other people do my shit for me… Now, quit stalling. Give me your “sob, teenage shit”…

  It was the weirdest conversation I’d probably ever had—definitely the strangest request. I was going to talk about an ex-boyfriend/lover/spawn of Satan with a business rival I never met and yet it didn’t freak me out. In fact, Brendon Foxx seemed to be the first person I really wanted to talk to tonight—a fact that should have terrified me but didn’t.

  I put my fingers back on the buttons and let my hands tell him everything there was to tell. Well… almost everything. I left out the racier
bits.

  And I didn’t know if it was the late hour or the liquor I’d had earlier, but something had broken—a barrier in me that was begging to be torn down. I sat there, in the middle of my gigantic hotel bed, in the midst of my barely lit suite, and I opened a floodgate that had been cracking for far too long. Now, it was bursting at the seams. Flooding all out… to a stranger.

  And by four in the morning, Brendon Foxx didn’t seem so strange. We talked about his love of dogs, especially his own—Ted. (No Bundy jokes allowed). I found out about his love for movie theaters, despite the high popcorn costs, and his volunteer efforts in a local Tampa homeless shelter.

  By the time I closed my laptop for bed, Ethan and the hero from the fire were almost forgotten… My internal doubts were on pause and the alarm signals that had first gone off when I first talked to the abrasive CEO were finally silent.

  Just for a night, I no longer heard my insecurities screaming at me… Nor did I hear the quiet shuffle of the note that was sliding under my door, the lonely pair of footsteps leaving, either.

  I fell asleep with a warm fire thawing the ice in my heart… and a Foxx slowly sneaking his way into my thoughts.

  The Spectacular Now

  And therein lies the whole of man's plight. Human time does not turn in a circle; it runs ahead in a straight line. That is why man cannot be happy: happiness is the longing for repetition.

  - Milan Kundera

  RISKE

  Day 2… and I woke up to a note at my front door.