Unfortunately, he’s right again. Mark and I aren’t exactly enemies, but I also wouldn’t piss on him if he was on fire. Besides, while I enjoy Hailee’s company, marriage isn’t my style. Still, it might be fun to make an insane offer just to see if he bites. Mark’s a cunning businessman, and I doubt he’d consider Hailee’s wishes if the price were right. Or… I could outmaneuver him and claim her for myself, fucking up his plans. Revenge served icy cold. I sip my bourbon and size up the competition. Dylan’s out of the running, being married and all. Jacob poses a threat, and then there’s Douglas Lawry, who was speaking to her earlier. He’s buried more wives than Henry VIII. I scan the room, eyeing up potential adversaries.
“Want to make a bet? Let’s make this interesting,” I propose to Jacob. “If I win her, your penthouse in Paris is mine.” I raise an eyebrow in challenge. “And if you win, my Milan villa is all yours.”
“Oh, you’re on.” He smiles confidently, like he’s got this in the bag already. I grasp his outstretched hand. Dylan simply watches, shaking his head at our stupidity.
Let the games begin.
Chapter seven
Hailee
Mystilettosareexquisiteyet excruciating, like a beautiful torture. But as my mother always said, “Beauty is pain, suck it up.” I sway gently, seeking relief for my throbbing feet. Thank goodness for the support of this wall against my back. Mark has granted me a short reprieve from socializing, so I’ve retreated to a quiet corner where I can indulge in some people-watching while nibbling on canapés. I glance at the measly bite-sized food in my napkin and sigh. I would kill for a slice of pizza right about now. Popping the last one in my mouth, I scrunch up the napkin in my hand.
“Here, let me take that for you.”
Caught off guard with a mouth full of food, I inhale sharply when I see it’s him. A crumb slips down the wrong pipe and I begin to choke, gasping loudly for air as panic sets in. My attempts to dislodge the crumb result in a cacophony of hacking and wheezing, causing quite the scene. To my deep embarrassment, I can’t stop the dry heaves as I scramble to suck in air into my burning lungs. He steps forward, patting me firmly on the back and offering a glass of water that seemingly materializes out of thin air. I take a sip and the fire raging in my throat subsides. Though concern flickers in his eyes, I detect a hint of amusement, adding to my mortification.
“Are you okay? Lucky you don’t sound like that when you’re choking on my cock,” he deadpans.
I burst out laughing, still coughing, the heat rising to my cheeks. Blushing isn’t something I do often, if ever. But this? This takes the cake. I’m beyond horrified he almost saw me throw up a canapé.
I wipe at the tears in my eyes and steady my breath before croaking out, “What are you doing here?” My voice sounds raspy, so I take another mouthful of water. Finally, I have the chance to take in his appearance. My goodness, this man is sin personified in his tailored tuxedo. I would totally bend over and give him a freebie right here, right now. If I were wearing panties, they would be ruined.
He smirks. “Twice in twenty-four hours, lucky me.” He gently peels open my palm and removes the scrunched napkin, replacing it with a sleek black card. My brows knit together. “I should be asking what brings you to this event. It’s not your typical scene. But then again, high society thrives on gossip.”
I start to speak but falter, unsure of how to respond.
“I have a proposition for you. One that you’ll definitely want to hear.” His voice is a delicious rumble, and I feel it all over my body. He closes my fingers around the black card in my palm.
“What—”
“Hailee, are you alright? We heard you from the other side of the ballroom.”
I wince as my stepfather approaches, another man trailing behind him.
“I’m fine, thank you, Mark.” I wave him off, trying to downplay the embarrassing gaffe. Then my stepfather notices I’m not alone and his face transforms; this must be the ruthlessness everyone talks about, because his game face is downright scary.
“Dameon.” Mark spits out the name with disdain, but Dameon is unfazed. He just smiles, as if he’s enjoying some inside joke, his gorgeous dimples on display.
“Hello, Mark. Good to see you again. I was just catching up with an old friend.” Dameon flashes that dazzling smile my way.
I raise my eyebrows. My stepfather and his companion know we’re not old friends, that we don’t move in the same circles. Dameon’s not-so-subtle implication that we’ve fucked is unmistakable. To what purpose, who knows? But he’s certainly succeeding in getting under my stepfather’s skin. I can almost see the steam coming out of his ears.
Dameon turns to me. “It was lovely seeing you again, Hailee.” Taking my hand, which is still clutching his card, he presses his lips gently to the back of it. Unlike slimy Douglas. With a subtle wink, he releases my hand, and without another word or glance at Mark or his companion, he leaves. My eyes track him through the crowd until he disappears beyond the exit.
“Hailee,” my stepfather snaps, pulling me out of my trance.
“Excuse me?”
“I would like to introduce you to Jacob,” he says pointedly, taking the water glass from my hand.
“Oh, sorry about that. Hello, Jacob, lovely to meet you.” I plaster on an apologetic smile. He shakes my hand, flashing a grin with perfect, straight white teeth. He’s young and attractive, but he doesn’t come close to the god that just left us.
“Ignore Dameon, he has that choking effect on a lot of women,” Jacob jokes. “They’d do anything to get away from him.”
I laugh politely at his quip, but it’s not funny. At all.
Jacob launches into a spiel about his father’s oil company and his recent takeover, mentioning his desire to settle down. It’s obvious he’s a total playboy, or as I prefer to call it, fuck boy. I nod along, feigning interest, but my burning curiosity about the card in my hand is hard to ignore. If only Jacob would piss off.
