Page 14 of Seeking Vengeance

I reach for the wine, throwing caution to the wind as the liquid coats my tongue, the taste far more exquisite than what I’d been served at the fancy restaurant.

“Don’t worry, I’m a patient man.” His gaze dips to my mouth and I can’t stop my tongue from swiping out to moisten my lower lip. “I don’t give up easily.”

The thumping and throbbing increases, pounding in my ears.

“I’m going to settle on my first assumption.” His smirk returns. “You’re a scorned lover out for revenge. Or, better yet, you’re an opportunist, trying to secure a wealthy future by winning over one of the Costa heirs.”

He’s goading me and that’s okay. He’s not the only one who can play games.

“Maybe.” I cross my legs and the split in my dress parts, exposing skin all the way to the bottom of my hip. “Do you think I’d have much success?”

His attention lowers to my thigh, his nostrils flaring. “Amore mio, you could take down an entire empire with your beauty.”

I press my lips together, unsure how to respond.

I’m thrumming. Buzzing. Brought to life.

Benji never looked at me this way. At least, not once we found out I was pregnant after what was meant to be a one-night stand. He’d been sentenced to a future of parenthood and criminal activity due to an unplanned conception, but not once did I blame him for the resentment he spent years trying to hide.

“Did I say something wrong?” Matthew asks.

I glance away to regain my composure.

My late husband deserves more from me than this. Even though our marriage was forced, we still grew to love each other. We might have even grown into one of those all-consuming romances if we weren’t so much alike—both ignorant and stubborn in all the wrong places.

“No.” I keep my gaze averted as I take another sip of wine. “You didn’t say anything wrong.”

“I’ve upset you, which only brings me back to the belief you’re a scorned lover.”

I sigh. “What makes you think that?”

“Your eyes. I can see the emotional toll of whatever they put you through. The pain runs deep.”

I don’t correct him. It’s better if he thinks I’m brokenhearted over one of Emmanuel’s sons than to dive into the sticky depths of the truth.

“How did they not recognize you?” There’s genuine curiosity in his voice. “You do realize they had their own security duo watching from both sides of the room, right?”

No, I hadn’t known.

Goddamnit.

“That’s why I had Bishop intervene when you stood to leave,” he adds. “Although the family were on their way out the door, one of their guards still watched the room.”

My failure continues to compile, the pressure growing heavier.

“How did they not recognize you?” he repeats. “Surely no man could forget a body like yours.”

I smile despite knowing he’s buttering me up for information. “I had a slight disguise.” I remove the glasses, placing them on the table between us, then the colored contacts, and finally start to unfasten my wig, letting my dark hair tumble free.

I ruffle the long strands between my fingers and spy my reflection in the window, making sure I’m somewhat respectable.

When Matthew doesn’t comment, I return my attention to his, curious at what brought on his silence.

He stares, his attention intense. “I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but I find this version even more stunning.”

The rampant flutters in my belly rise to my chest. My throat. I swallow, hard, struggling to fight his seduction as I dump the wig on the table.

“You’re gorgeous.” He studies me.

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