Page 1 of In Love and Revenge

Prologue

Gold sequins cast a honeyed glow over smooth, bronzed skin as the spotlight illuminates her.

I lean back in my seat and reach up to loosen the knot of my tie. The muscles in my neck tense as she spins slowly, arching her back towards the silver pole in the centre of the stage.

Her eyes catch mine in the crowd and my breath stalls as light blue sparkles back through her heavy eye make-up.

‘She’s new.’

I keep my eyes locked on the dancer, the slow tip of my chin an acknowledgment to my companion, Dominic.

‘She is.’

‘Nice legs,’ he comments as she wraps herself around the pole, using it as an anchor to seductively lower herself into the splits.

The sequins on her tiny dress glitter. It’s like staring into a vault of pure gold bars. Millions of pounds’ worth.

My fingers curl around the edges of my seat, nails digging into the leather, as sourness creeps over my tongue.

Two hundred and forty million, to be exact.

That’s what he cost me. The man whose name I only ever speak with a curse as I drive my fist into something.

The song comes to an end and Dominic rises from his seat, squeezing my shoulder with a warm chuckle before he’s led towards the private rooms at the rear of the club by a dancer.

But it’s not her.

Not the one in the gold sequins.

She’s mine.

Elegantly, she descends the stairs at the side of the stage and makes her way towards me, hips swaying with each step in sky-high Perspex heels.

She smooths a long curtain of blond hair over one shoulder as she stops in front of me. The move makes my eyes drop from her pretty face to the hint of hardened nipple pushing against the thin fabric.

I lick my lips as I lift my eyes to meet hers. She smiles, like she has me exactly where she wants me.

‘I saw you watching me onstage. Would you like a private dance?’

Elbow resting on the arm of my chair, I run my index finger over my lower lip, not missing the way her eyes follow it in anticipation.

That’s right, sweetheart. I’m the one in control here.

‘I would,’ I reply smoothly, standing and extracting from my pocket a money clip inlaid with diamonds and stuffed with crisp notes.

Her lips part as I slide a fifty free. ‘I’m Luc—’

I arch a brow at her. ‘Until I tell you otherwise, your name is Beauty. Understood?’

Her glossy lips twist into a coy smile. ‘Of course, sir.’

‘Hm. Good.’ I slide another fifty out and hand both to her.

Following her across the darkened club, we pass occupied tables lit with small lamps that cast sinful shadows across the sensuous bodies that snake between them. Some dancers are sitting, chatting and drinking. Others are performing toplessdances, rolling their bodies up and down the suited clientele of London’s financial district.

I was preparing to write this place off. Nothing here held my interest any more ... until tonight.

I drop my eyes to the blonde’s curvaceous hips, the lower swell of her arse cheeks visible beneath the tiny scrap of sequined fabric.