BAD THINGS
ROCK BOTTOM
LOVELY TRIGGER
THE HERETIC DAUGHTERS SERIES
BREATHING FIRE
CROSSING FIRE - COMING SOON
THE BISHOP BROTHERS SERIES
BOSS - COMING SOON
HERE’S A TEASER FROM THE FOLLOW UP TO
BREAKING HIM.
BREAKING HER
“If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?”
~William Shakespeare
PRESENT
SCARLETT
I was drunk. Good and stinking drunk.
We were at the crew hotel in Seattle (not my favorite town) on a layover, and we were trolling the lobby bar.
Okay, I was trolling the bar. My girls were just there for moral support.
No wait, that wasn’t all. We were supposed to be celebrating. Something great had happened, I had to remind myself.
I’d just landed my first starring role in a feature film.
Yes, that was it. We were celebrating.
Also . . .
I was planning to make up for the fact that I’d just spent way too much time being a pathetic, lovesick fool, moping in my room, hiding in my bed.
Hating myself. Wanting to disappear.
I’d barely scraped myself together enough to make it to the fateful audition that had landed me the part that might change my life.
Even when I’d gotten the news (that I was finally, at last, going to star in a movie!) I’d barely felt even a stirring of happiness.
The last round with Dante still had its hold on me. I’d let him do his worst and the wounds he’d inflicted were just not healing.
But I’d vowed tonight that I was done with that.
I was on the hunt for a stand-in punching bag. I had decided about three drinks ago that I’d feel much better about myself if I put at least one man between me and my last memory of Dante.
I was looking around, a pout on my face. “No cute boys,” I told the girls.
Demi agreed.
“I’m not sad,” Leona said, studying me. “I don’t think I want you to find a cute boy when you’re in this shape.”
They were sitting in a booth and I was standing next to it. I was not in a sitting mood. I was in a sway to the music and get some male attention mood. I just wished there were some males around worth being noticed by.
I’d already shot down two that just weren’t cute enough. More specifically: Reject Number One wasn’t tall enough and Reject Number Two looked too wholesome.
I didn’t like wholesome, never had. I craved sinister categorically.
“Don’t speak too soon,” Farrah said, eyes aimed at the door. “I’ll let you have him if you want him, but damn, I sure don’t want to.”
I turned to see. And smiled.
It was my lucky day.
Either he was actually looking for me or it was a hell of a coincidence, but Dante’s half-brother, Bastian, had just walked in the door.
He was standing there scanning the room and it didn’t take him long to zero in on me.
He grinned.
I tilted my head and grinned back, then pointed my chin at the bar, heading there with a bouncing little strut.
He beat me to it, and watched me approach, his eyes all over me.
I was glad I’d turned myself out well.
My minuscule nude dress was basically man catnip. It hit all the right buttons—deep cleavage that left very little of my abundant breasts to the imagination, short skirt that showed off my sky-high legs, and the whole thing was fitted to show off my tiny waist and hourglass figure, the color giving the illusion that I was close to naked.
Pink platform stilettos and sexy bedroom hair didn’t hurt my situation, and my makeup had been on point before I’d gotten sloppy drunk. Who could say now? Who could care?
Not me. My lipstick was probably smeared, my mascara bleeding down my face, but I felt sexy as hell either way.
“Hello, stranger,” I said when I got in earshot of Bastian. “You look good enough to eat.”
And he did. Three-piece suit, dark, messy hair, five o’clock shadow, a handsome as hell Durant face, and a devilish smile.
Yeah, he’d do.
“Look who’s talking,” he retorted, eyes on my catnip dress. “My God, woman, you are trouble, aren’t you?”
I went to hug him, because drunk, and breathed into his ear. “You have no idea.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t.” He sounded truly regretful about that as he put his hands on my hips and set me back just the slightest bit. “I’m sure you’ve guessed, but I came here to talk to you.”
“How did you know I’d be here?” I asked him, cocking my head to the side.
His mouth twisted ruefully, and when he did that, he reminded me so much of Dante that I wanted to smash something over his head. And cry. And run away. And kiss him.
“Facebook. You and your friends love to share your locations, and, you know, I live here.”
I scrunched my nose up. “Facebook stalking me, are you?”
He was unapologetic. “Yes. It’s a helpful tool. Actually, I was going to fly down to see you soon, but this worked out much better. Well, it did if you’re up for a serious talk that I’d like you to remember in the morning.”
“I’m not up for a serious anything,” I told him and, because drunk, I pressed my mouth to his.
He made a little noise in this throat, a hungry one, and I licked his lips, brushing my breasts against him.
He set me away, but he was breathing hard.
“You taste good,” I told him.
He smiled but not like he was happy. “Do I taste like revenge?”
“Exactly like that. It’s delicious.”
“Trust me, you beautiful, edible, dangerous creature, I would love to take you up on that, but it’s a line we can’t cross.”
“There’s no line I won’t cross,” I said, meaning it. I was feeling self-destructive to a desperate, limitless degree. “God, do you know what he did to me after we left Gram’s house?”
“I heard a bit about it,” Bastian said solemnly.
That surprised me. “What did you hear? And from who?”
He sighed. “From Dante. I’m sure you won’t be surprised to hear that he’s in rough shape.”
That bit of unfair bullshit only made me more determined. I moved closer and he let me. I rubbed up against him, my full, glossy lips in kissing distance of his again, teasing him. “Let’s make it rougher for him, huh?”
“Jesus,” he said, and it reminded me so much of Dante that I wrenched away.
I leaned against the bar, flagging down the busy bartender.
He didn’t make me wait, in fact stopped what he was doing and came to do my bidding with a smile.
I’d been flirting with him all night, but he wasn’t my type. He was tall but his shoulders weren’t broad enough. Still, the right smile got me some amazing service.
“Hey, Scarlett,” he said, his tone when he said my name making it sound like we were old friends or new lovers. “Another scotch for you?”
“You’re the best, Benny,” I told him, leaning forward, shamelessly teasing him. “Can you make it two?”
He nodded, eyes on my cleavage. “Anything you want, gorgeous.”
“Wow,” Bastian whistled when Benny moved away to get our drinks. “If I was Dante, I would lock you up.”