Page 2 of R Is For Revenge: Part One
Braedon grins and pulls down her top. “But your tits taste like candy.”
“Christ,” I say with a head shake.
Braedon is a Livingston, as in Livingston oil. His family was already worth billions before he was born, and he takes his business seriously. Well, when he’s not wading hip deep in pussy. He’d provided our startup in college. None of us would be here without him.
I ease into the tequila slowly and enjoy the burn as it slides down my throat. Music plays in the background. It’s loud enough that I know it’s my favorite playlist, and low enough that I can hear Cade and Abel argue about some horse race they lost a bundle on. Braedon’s still busy fondling, Candy or Cindy or whatever the fuck her name is.
My attention drifts away from them, it’s been a long ass day and I walk to the far wall of the private room, to the two-way window that overlooks the main floor of the club. From here, I can see everything. Every table, every guest, every inch of the place that belongs to me. I don’t gloat because that’s not my style. The club is no different than any of the other things I own. It has a purpose. This slice of prime real estate is populated by the kind of powerful men and women that change the world. They’re connections I use when needed. The senator was integral when I destroyed Horner.
Just thinking about it eases some of the tension in me, and I tug at my tie. Sip some of the sweet tequila. I almost turn away when movement catches my eye near the bar.
I spy a woman speaking with Brent. A tall brunette in tailored black slacks and a cream colored sweater that she wears like she’s on a runway. Cashmere, I’d bet. She’s classy, this one. She doesn’t wear a coat and smiles easily at Brent. I only can see her profile and it’s enough to let me know she’s fucking gorgeous. Who the hell is she?
Something about her hits wrong but what is it? She looks like she belongs in the crowd yet something feels off. I want a better look because I feel like I should know her and yet…
I lean closer, eyes narrowing. Brent says something that makes her laugh. I can’t hear it from up here, but I bet it sounds soft and easy. I can tell the bartender is taken with her, and it pisses me off for reasons I don’t immediately understand. My fingers tighten around the tumbler as she turns slightly—just enough for the light to hit her face.
Fuck. Me.
I step back, heart hammering once, twice, before settling into a hard, cold rhythm.
I know that face. Not personally. We never met. But I’ve studied it enough to know who the hell she is.
Harold Horner’s daughter. Jules Horner.
Of all the clubs in the city… of all the rooms in all the damn world… she walked into mine. I’d been looking for her for the past two years and with all my resources hadn’t been able to find her. Her older sister Melody married some hedge fund guy before things went south and lives the kind of life she was raised in. Only because I allow it. They don’t know that I own sixty percent of his holdings. Her younger brother had been in an accident overseas and from what my guy had told me, was basically a vegetable. But her? Jules Horner? I’d never been able to find.
Trust me, I tried.
And now she’s here? It’s almost too easy. So much so, that I’m instantly on guard.
I watch her move through the crowd like she belongs, as if this club, thisempire, still belongs to the Horner’s. She disappears around the corner of the bar, and I step back from the glass. My mind spins as I grab my phone and hit Brent’s number. Impatient I swear, aware that Abel is looking my way.
He answers after the second ring. “Yeah, boss?”
“That girl. The brunette you were just talking to.”
There’s a pause. “The one in the cream sweater?”
“That’s the one. What’s her deal? She’s not a member or I’d know her.”
“She’s applying for a job. Wants to be a server. Henry referred her and he’s always bang on. Said she’s new in town.”
Where the hell has she been all this time?
“She give you a name?”
Another pause. “Jules. Harper.”
Huh. Harper? My teeth grit so tight it’s a wonder they don’t crack. I wonder why the name change. Wonder what she’s hiding. But then does it matter? A low laugh escapes me, dark and sharp.
Jules Harper. AKA, Jules Horner. She doesn’t know it yet, but she just walked straight into the lion’s den.
“Send up her application. I want to see it personally.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
I pocket my phone and glance down in the club. She's back in view, chatting with another server, easy and unaware that she’s being hunted. Every cell in my body is fired up. I’m already planning her demise. All the ways I’ll make her pay for the sins of her father.
