Page 1 of The Perfect Betrayal

PROLOGUE

Daran Peterson was surprised at how well things were going.

Maybe he shouldn’t have been. After all, he was out on his sailboat on a Tuesday night, sipping champagne with a beautiful young blonde. The first part naturally explained the second.

Daran had long ago stopped deluding himself into thinking the women who showed interest in him did so because of his great looks or sparkling personality. He knew that he was on the pudgy side with hair that was receding much too fast for his twenty-nine years.

He was also well aware that he wasn't the most engaging guy who'd ever been on a date. Despite a lifetime of wealth, mostly handed down from his father, he still got nervous and quiet in social—especially potentially romantic—situations.

That self-awareness had taught him that if a girl was showing interest in him, it was likely because of the sailboat, or because he was the executive vice-president of the upscale menswear brand his father had started. Ironically, most of those clothes were too unforgiving for a guy like him to wear.

His self-knowledge had also proven to him that even with all that wealth, the ladies who gave him the time of day still needed some coaxing, often with liquor, and sometimes with a little more insistence than might be considered gentlemanly.

But amazingly, none of that was the case with Liza, the lithe, nubile young woman currently lying on the deck of the sailboat in a bikini, sipping champagne under the moonlit night. She seemed to actually appreciate him, and not just for the symbols of his status.

Yes, they’d met in the parking lot of the South Bay Yacht Club, the prestigious Redondo Beach club where he was a member. But she didn’t seem to have a clue who he was, and herplayful flirting had begun well before she found out about the boat. It turned out that she’d spent the day at the beach and was walking back to the public lot next to the yacht club’s private one when they bumped into each other.

Admittedly, he’d noticed her well before then, as was to be expected when a pretty girl in a barely there two-piece strolled right by. But she had begun the conversation, not him.

“Do you know how late people can park in that public lot?” she had asked.

He didn't, as he'd never had to use the lot. Despite that obstacle, before he knew it, they'd been standing there chatting for ten minutes. Eventually, he took a risk.

“Any chance you might want to join me on my boat?” he asked. “I’ll be taking her out into the bay for a few hours.”

She seemed on the fence briefly before ultimately agreeing. After she dropped off her beach bag at her car, she returned, still in only the bikini.

“Do you want to bring a wrap?” he asked. “I know it’s late April, but it can still get a little chilly out on the water.”

“I don’t have one,” she admitted, before adding coquettishly, “But I’m sure you’ve got something that can warm me up if I get cold.”

That was three hours ago. In the interim, they’d had a great time. He cut up some turkey sandwiches for dinner and popped one of the multiple bottles of bubbly in his fridge. By the time they got to the second bottle, he’d told her all about the clothing company and his distant relationship with his father, who was also his meal ticket. He left that part out.

She mentioned something about being a graduate student at USC, but he wasn't really paying that much attention, as she was readjusting her top when she got into that. By midway through the second champagne bottle, he was a little buzzed, and Liza was well beyond that.

“Do you have any interest in going below deck?” he asked, hoping she’d draw the intended conclusion.

She gave him a naughty smile.

"Actually, I'd rather get to know you better up here," she told him. "How about I go down for a minute to freshen up and grab a blanket. Then, when I come back, we can get better acquainted."

“Okay,” he said dumbly, astounded by his luck. It appeared that he wasn’t going to have to exert any kind of pressure at all with this one. What a change of pace.

While she went down the stairs, he turned his attention to the water. Even though they were only anchored about a mile offshore, there were no other boats nearby. It was like they had the whole bay to themselves.

And with the way the moon’s reflection flickered over the waves, it was as if nature itself wanted him get laid tonight, providing the perfect romantic backdrop for him. He heard her footsteps coming up the steps and started to turn around.

That was fast,” he began. “I thought that freshening up—.”

But before he could finish his sentence, he felt a searing pain in his lower back, near his right kidney. He gasped in pain. Before he had even exhaled, he felt a second piercing blow in the same area, and then a third.

He stumbled to the deck, landing on his knees. He didn’t think he could move. In fact, even keeping his eyes open was hard. They were watery with agony. And then there were two bare feet standing in front of him on the deck. He couldn’t raise his head to see anything more.

She did it for him, lifting his chin up with what he noted vaguely was a kitchen towel rather than her fingers. In her other hand was his knife, the very one he'd used to slice their turkey sandwiches in half. The knife—and her hand—were covered in blood.

“Why?” he managed to rasp.

She answered him, but by then he was too far gone to understand what she said. He was too far gone for anything.

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