Page 26 of Sweetest Revenge

“Make it quick,” I ordered over the phone.

“Last I checked, I don’t report to you,” Dominic replied, annoyance threading his tone.

No, he doesn’t. He was the only person who had rejected my offer to work with the Black Silk Auction House. Dominic Astor got rich and famous off a single painting of a crying woman a decade ago and had since then made it his mission to open as many galleries as possible.

He made an obscene amount of money and would bring in a new wave of clientele neither Maxwell nor I could.

Yet he wanted nothing to do with it.

“What is it?” I said with a sigh, tiredness from not sleeping weighing on me.

“I’m calling to remind you of the charity ball this coming Wednesday."

Shit. Damn it. As if things couldn’t get any more hectic.

“You can’t back out,” he continued quickly, already feeling my hesitancy. “Your name has been published, and the media will be there.”

I bit my tongue. But then, the most sinful idea crossed my mind.

Addi wanted to act out? Then she was going to get what was coming to her.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. I’ll be there.”

“And don’t forget I invited?—”

I hung up and beelined back to the office.

“Get up, Addi; we have some shopping to do.”

“Warren, no,” Addi gasped in horror as I pulled her into Haute Noire, Kian Knight’s first and largest clothing shop. “There are more than enough clothes in the closet?—"

The shop was three stories high and catered to the most expensive of tastes. I’d never really had the need to buy clothes for a partner, but I knew Kian’s store was the place to go.

“Yes, Addi,” I replied, annoyance pricking my tone.

Since when does a Mercer not want to spend money?

The reports I got about her various different jobs painted a much different picture of her than the Addi I once knew. This one didn’t mind getting her hands dirty. Didn’t mind the labor and even took extra shifts.

Has she really changed that much? It was hard to believe.

I remembered her days in her father’s office and how she would turn up every day with a new—and very expensive—pair of shoes. She loved money.

So did her father. It’s why he ended up the way he did. Did the things he did.

He wasn’t an outlier, though; many of the businessmen who got a taste of success had a need for more and more and more until they couldn’t tell right from wrong anymore.

That’s why I did what I did. So no more men like him could destroy the lives of the people he fucked over.

I glanced at Addi as she took in the store with wide eyes.

A large chandelier hung in the middle, encompassing all three floors. The top two wrapped around it with a glass railing holding back some of the salesclerks. They looked down at us, and when they recognized me, they whispered amongst themselves.

One was at my side in less than a minute.

“Mr. King,” she greeted with a warm smile. “May I take your jacket?” Her uniform was spotless, hair tied back in a flawless updo. Even her makeup screamed minimalistic and clean.

Kian sure has his branding together.

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