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

  I hadn't seen him since he left; I hadn’t wanted to. I’d come from lower-middle class, southern roots, and even as a teen, I’d been distrustful of people like Greg with money, the posers who lived on the rich side of town. Their prodigal daughters had done a bang-up job of making me feel less than, and when my father was laid off from his metal factory job, none of them had lifted a finger to help my struggling family.

  The only treats I got were treats as a child, growing up poor. And even when the power was intermittently cut off, my mother would cook baked goods in the kitchen under candlelight, showering us with soft cookies and yummy caramels until finally we would go to sleep.

  Greg Sears was the quintessential rich prick, and he almost convinced me. He almost made me believe that he was the best you got, that his average looks and family wealth could distract all of my worries away. Until I met the boy who didn't give two shits about either of those things, a boy with whom I could just be. He taught me a lot about myself.

  Taught me how to be unafraid, how to stick up for myself. How to laugh, cry…

  And fuck.

  That was the last thing he taught me.

  And even now, relegated to working out of my home-office, I could still see his face, feel his breath on my neck. I remember what it was like to love him. And to hate him so fucking much.

  In the wee hours of midnight, the only light in my house coming from my laptop, I think of Ethan Riske, the boy he was, the ghost he had become. I searched for his name on my computer, a monthly ritual that I never managed to stop.

  Squirming at my desk, trying to get comfortable in my oversized office chair, I leaned into my laptop, making the leather beneath my seat squeak. I held my breath as my eyes scanned over the blue-gray screen. My heart beat hard.

  Six search pages in, and I still found nothing. Disappointed, as I have been for over the past decade, I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the tears not to fall. Trying to find the boy I fell in love with at seventeen was always an exercise in futility. But it never stopped me.

  And Laney was right… I did need to get laid… instead of seeking out boyfriends that had disappeared into thin air. But I wasn't going to find a lay tonight. Tonight, I was going to finish my monthly ritual.

  I stood slowly from my office chair. And in the dark, I made my way over to the bedroom, dangled my fingers near the drawer of my nightstand, and pulled out my “lay” for the night—Mr. Two Strokes. My vibrator. And the only man who has never disappointed me.

  I held him tightly as I crawled beneath the cool covers stretched over my bed. I sighed, sinking into the mattress beneath me. I kicked off my tiny shorts and shut my eyes to revel in the memories. I squeezed them tighter and saw Ethan's face… inhaling, exhaling as he laid his lips over mine.

  The slide of Mr. Two Strokes between my legs took me back an entire ten years. To my last night with Ethan. I could feel the light sheet of sweat on his skin, could bask in his smell. The weight of his body pressed down on mine, and on a night that was uncustomarily cool for a Tennessee summer, I was shivering all over, my body trembling as Ethan took one breast in his hand, teasing the tight nipple with his thumb.

  I gasped, my senses feeling every inch of the grass beneath the blanket on which we lay. One thing was clear: Playtime was over…

  The picnic we’d made just two hours before was a long-distant memory, and as the dusk dwindled into dark and nothingness, something else emerged. Something raw and unfiltered and un-freakingly-believable.

  I was going to make love with Ethan Riske… and it was going to be glorious. I shuddered beneath his touch.

  His lips brushed against my mouth. Wearing nothing from the waist up, Ethan wrapped his arms around me, holding me close. He was testing me with the touch across my nipple, teasing me. When he saw my response, he leaned in for more. One hand in my hair, the other traveling to plant itself at my hip, he hovered above me, loving me with his full, delicious mouth in a kiss that I knew I would never forget. It left nothing to be desired.

  In control as always, measured and memorable with each movement, he applied the perfect pressure with his mouth, angling it over my own, sucking with a sensual insistence. Placing his tongue between my teeth, he taunted me to join mine with his until the two were soon touching, laying a slow sexy path across the other. The kiss quickened with intensity and soon we were breathing each other in—licking, sucking, gnawing and nibbling at every square inch we could find.

  And the kiss was not enough. He needed more. I needed more…

  I stared at the stars above, which suddenly seemed as if they were swirling. In the midst of the pitch black field, the half-hidden moonlight illuminating every inch of Ethan's half naked body, I felt as if we were the only two people left on the entire earth. Everything else seemed to bleed into one another. Until there was only him and his hands—his mouth. My world went out of focus with pleasure… and the present came flooding back to me.

  With my hand between my thighs and Mister Two-Strokes at my clit, I relished in the remembrance of what it felt like to be wanted so completely, so wholly that there was a certain religious worship to it—a reverence. Ethan Riske had indeed worshipped my body with his tongue and hands.

  And as I increased the intensity, as I kicked up the buzzing of my trusty vibrator, I felt the oncoming of a God-inspiring orgasm, as Laney would likely call it. I gasped out loud, my body reaching higher and higher and higher… until my senses suddenly came crashing down, doused by a blue light. My cell phone was ringing and its normally catchy tune was capturing every bit of my attention, stealing my climax right from under me. I slammed my vibrator into the blanket, reaching for the vibrating nightstand. I didn’t even look at the screen.

  I barked into the speaker. “Jesus… What?!”

  I opened my mouth, surprised to hear Charlie Dunham’s voice come out of the headpiece. “I wouldn’t call me Jesus… just yet. But I’d like to think I’m getting close.” He laughed at his own joke. “I found out something you’ll find very useful, Katarina.”

  I was interested enough not to curse him out right there on the spot. Luckily, I didn’t. In ten minutes, Charlie had proved his worth—or at least the worth of his dinner date. I dialed Laney’s number. Now “excited” for an entirely different set of reasons, my legs shook as I sat in silence while her phone rang. When she picked up, I was only too happy to hear her voice because for a second there… I thought I might be going on my mission alone.

  She answered with a groggy voice and thick syllables, clearing her throat.

  “Yeah, hello?”

  “Get dressed, loser,” I smiled. “We’re going in…”

  My best friend sniffed. “Going in where?”

  “Going into something that I’m keeping a surprise. For now. You know I would only call you this late if it were really good. And it is. So do you want to make me sit here and explain it… or do you want to get dressed and be on your way over? We’re losing time with each moment we wait.”

  Laney exhaled with a huff, hanging silently on the other line. “This better involve either sex or sundaes, and I’ll settle for both.”

  We hung up after a couple more assurances—I couldn’t get the sex, but the sundaes was doable, and slipping into some jeans and a t-shirt, I found myself staring into Laney’s eyes only half an hour later. She was still in her jammies. Her red hair was all askew, and she looked like she had just woken up from the dead. I was almost sure that she had.

  I rubbed her shoulder reassuringly, handing her the pint of ice cream that was still half-finished from my fridge. She took it with a tired groan, following me to my garage. Hopping in the passenger seat of my ten-year old Honda, she dug into the Mint Chocolate Chip with the spoon I’d snuck between her fingers. I drove off, tearing my way to downtown Tampa. We rode in silence—aside from Laney’s sucking and slurping, and it took my noisy-mouthed secretary and best gal less than ten minutes to finish her dessert. By the time she was licking the rest of it off the met
al spoon, I was diverting to the street Charlie had texted to me, dropping in speed, my wide eyes openly searching for the building he’d so boastingly described.

  Fact was… I already knew where it was. You couldn’t miss the brand-new behemoth developers had just built in the middle of the city—the big, glass-encased cock of a structure. It stood proudly like an erection waiting to fuck the world. I supposed it had to be representative of its tenants.

  Especially it’s new one.

  Brendon Foxx. Mr. Wanna-Be-Big-Dick. Mr. Thinks-He-Can-Steal-My-Corporate-Secrets-and-Get-Away-With-It.

  I wasn’t going to allow that to happen. I parked just a block away… just as Laney sipped the last bite of cream from the container. She held it to her lips, before placing it in her lap. I looked over at my model-thin bestie, choosing to ignore the slight envy that reared its head every time she ravenously ate.

  I had a mission—a purpose to keep in mind, I reminded myself. I exited the car, grinning as Laney followed suit. She met me on the sidewalk.

  “Alright, what’s the deal? What are you up to now?”

  I pointed over her head, stabbing my finger in the direction of the new construction. The edifice was almost finished.

  “You see that new office building?”

  Laney shrugged. “Yeah, so what?”

  “This is going to be the new headquarters for TravelTalk. The TravelTalk. They’re moving their HQ from Manhattan to here. That means that it won’t just be an office for them. It will be the office. It means that all of their important files, important people, will locate themselves within these walls. That means that Brendon Foxx will be here. Right here. In our town.” I looked up at the building. “And at my mercy. He’ll be moving in, in less than a week.” I started crossing the street. “So, come on.”

  Laney’s bottom lip fell open. “Come on where?”

  “To the building. To the office,” I exhaled loudly. “I want to see what the Foxxes are working with. So far, we’ve been nothing but at a disadvantage here. With Greg working with TravelTalk, he’ll use all of our innovation, all of our tricks of the trade to make TravelTalk a success. We need to be smarter if we’re going to drive them out of town…”

  “Drive them out of…?” Laney started. I kept walking. “Hey! Wait up…!” she called from behind me. I wouldn’t turn around. Instead, I kept marching. I circled the building, looking for the right door. When I found it, propped ajar just as Charlie promised, I reached for the handle. I recoiled when an unexpected hand landed on mine. Laney shut the door just as I was swinging it open.

  She wrapped her fingers around my shoulders, twisting me. Her voice was a raspy cry.

  “Have you lost your freakin’ mind, Kat? No fucking way are you serious.” She glanced behind me. “This is breaking and entering,” she stated, her words sinking into a raspy whisper. “Now I’m usually behind you all the way… You know that. But this is pushing a boundary. I’m all for slashing a few tires and putting sugar in a cheater’s tank, but we’re crossing a line here. I mean this is Brendon Foxx. Brendon. Foxx.”

  I nodded at my best friend, blinking slow. “And I am Katarina Khvostova Lexington. Kat. Lexington. I’m not backing down from this bastard. And I’m not going to let him break the contract I have set up with Greg on a technicality. If Greg’s in violation, then so is he. Now I’m going in here, Laney… The only question is…” I shifted on my feet, searching her eyes. “Am I going alone? You have to choose. It’s now or never.”

  Laney stared into my eyes, silent for several seconds. Suddenly, she was rolling her own, pulling the propped-open door aside for me to walk through. I grinned, squeezing my fingers into a fist. I kissed her cheek, walking past, and when I entered the almost-finished first floor, though the last bit of the lobby was still being constructed, my jaw fell slightly ajar at the sight of it.

  The building was simply beautiful. The architecture was stunning and even in the dark, with a few nearby streetlights barely illuminating the way, I felt as if I had finally come home. This is where A Whole New World belonged—in a structure like this, reserved for only the very successful. We certainly belonged there more than a newcomer like Brendon Foxx, and even if I had to fight until the day I died, this is where I knew I would end up.

  On top of the big structural dick…

  Even in its phallic-like ostentatiousness, it was breathtaking to behold. My wayward feet brought me further inside and as if my brain had hopped its way into my heels, I was hightailing a path towards the elevators. I used Charlie’s code to override the badge access keypad, and I dragged Laney along with me, watching my normally bold best friend bite her reddened lips as we ascended to a level I knew there was no coming back from.

  I had, in fact, gone completely insane… And I didn’t give a fuck.

  I sighed the moment we hit the sixtieth floor—Foxx’s floor, expelling a haggard breath. I followed my instincts out of the lift and through the sparse lighting scattered around the deserted floor. Desks were being set up; decorations starting to take shape on the high-reaching walls.

  I could feel my pulse pounding all the way into my fingertips, and every item I touched seemed to vibrate from my caress, the casual skimming of my nails across the surfaces creating a sound that seemed deafening amidst the silence.

  I could barely breathe. Through the halls of this would-be corporate castle, I lost myself. I imagined Brendon Foxx walking this same way in just a few days, and as I headed towards the executive suites, my pace quickened. I felt inexplicably warm all of a sudden—damn near hot. The drum of my footsteps created an intoxicating beat; the office floor felt so quiet I could hear the hard humming of the air conditioner, the creaking of each floor board… the crackle of the fire.

  I stopped, sensing a bead of sweat trickle down my neck. The fire…?

  I turned the corner… and my world exploded in a flash of orange light. Bright, hot, orange, unbearable light. The flames licked towards the ceiling, and the heat hit my body with the intensity of an Earth-dwelling red sun, making my vision temporarily blur to witness a thousand stars.

  Except they weren’t stars… they were sparks. Deadly, beautiful sparks.

  I staggered backwards, my head hitting the wall, my body shuddering. The blaze seemed to be everywhere, attacking me from all sides all at once. How had that happened?

  I froze out of fear and instead of running, I nearly folded into myself, terror gripping my throat at the sweaty base, panic putting a ball inside at the back of my mouth the size of Guam. I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t scream.

  All I could do was stare at the fire—the flames I’d hoped I’d been dreaming, realizing that it was all real. Not a flashback or memory, but the present, right in front of me. The fire from my office had grown legs and actually chased me. It was here—not in my head… and it wanted me. It reached towards me with fiery fingers, teasing and taunting until it nearly touched, needing to devour me. And me? I was stranded—alone. Stuck…with two thoughts.

  I would never see the finale of the building’s unveiling, never see it finished. A Whole New World would never know what it was like to be housed inside of the awe-inspiring brick and glass, and though I spent my childhood making mischief, devoted my adulthood to running it from it, I couldn’t escape it. Danger had danced with me for an entire summer when I’d known Ethan Riske, and I was a fool to think it could stay away for a decade.

  It had found me…

  And I was in so much fucking trouble.

  Part 2

  Before Sunrise

  Every hour in itself, as it respects us in particular, is the only one we can call our own.

  - Jean de la Bruyere

  RISKE

  The night was quiet. My mind was not.

  Thoughts and musings had raged inside my brain from dawn until dusk, and even now, secreted in solitude, alone as I had been every night, I still couldn’t keep my head on straight.

  Probably because I was lying to myself. About a lot of th
ings…

  For one: I hadn’t been alone every night… I’d spent at least part of half the week with beach blonde bunnies in my bed, redheads in the Rolls, a caramel-haired cutie to bide the time.

  For two: My thoughts hadn’t exactly been raging. If I was being honest with myself, they were seemingly stuck—centered around my impromptu “bachelor night.” A night I was trying desperately to forget…

  Chris and Griff had busted my fucking balls all day after my brief dally with the stripper I now referred to as “Blondie the Bimbo.” In truth, I hadn’t ever really learned the fair-haired woman’s name; I didn’t need to. But I also couldn’t stop picturing her.

  On her knees, on my cock, wrapping her lips around it while I called her another woman’s name—a name I couldn’t get out of my head if I wanted to.

  There had only been one Kat Lexington. I didn’t think I could survive another…

  Earlier in the afternoon, I had walked into our makeshift office, the rental we used while our real one was being constructed and renovated, the day after the club with Kat on my mind. The second I swept into my office door, my two best friends slipped in behind me, their faces grinning, their smiles wide as they nudged each other like dirty Cheshire cats—pre-pubescent porn-watchers ready for more X-rated entertainment.

  They crowded my desk.

  “So?” Griff asked out loud.

  I took my seat. “So, what?”

  “So, how was she? We’ve been dying to know… Your neck was ten different shades of red when you came from behind the curtain, your pants half-undone. You were ready to leave the second you came out, and if I wasn’t mistaken,” Griff grinned, “Miss Beautiful-Tits-Becky had an extra ‘shine’ to her pink lips… and I’m sure it wasn’t coming from her lip gloss.”