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Whoever said “Revenge is sweet” is a liar.
There’s nothing “sweet” about the vengeance I want against Sophia Somerset.
Because when this quick-tongued waitress with more curves than the real estate market makes off with my most prized possession—and the only item saving my company from collapse, payback is the only goal I have planned…at first.
My only saving grace?
The note she left behind. And my proof.
Problem is: I can’t stop thinking about the adorably haphazard thief.
Taking my revenge against Sophia may not be sweet. But it sure is sexy.
If only I can save my company—and my traitorous heart—before it’s too late…
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She closes her eyes for a second. “It was sudden. But that’s no excuse. I stole from you.” Her amber-green eyes gloss. “And I am sorry. Sorry about it all.”
But I’m not interested in her excuses. Or apologies.
What Sophia Somerset did to me three nights ago was just another reminder that people aren’t to be trusted.
Not your friends, most of the time. Definitely not your family. (My own father had clearly shown that.) And certainly not strangers.
On a desperate night, I forgot that. Forgot myself.
I won’t again.
“It’s fine.” I cluck out with a nod. “Then you can get it when they open up shop today, yes?”
“I should be able to.” She pulls that delicate neck of hers pin straight, clearing her throat. “That was first. And secondly, I…”
My brain goes into overdrive, my patience snapped. I’m sitting there, somehow letting Sophia control the conversation and whatever reticence was left in me, whatever restraint that kept the bear in my body on hold is let out of its cage—ready for destruction.
I hold up my hand. “I have to be honest with you, Miss Somerset. I’m not interested in your ‘seconds.’”
I allow my eyes to burn into hers, my words never stopping.
“You’re a criminal, Little Bear,” I throw the days-old nickname at her. “And no amount of little apology, no amount of tiny retribution you think will be worth it can even the score of what you did to me. What you’ve allowed to be done…” I trail off, finally sinking the nail home, the temptation to touch her stronger than ever.
I resist, sitting even straighter. I fold my hands over the table. “Now, you want to tell me what this condition is, so I can say ‘no’ to it?”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Natalie Wrye is a reader, writer and tequila lover best known for writing suspenseful big city romance and characters whose HEA’s you’ll love rooting for.
A notebook hoarder whose books have been featured on USA Today’s HEA and PopSugar, when she’s not watching Netflix re-runs or yelling at college basketball games on TV, she’s usually crafting sexy suspenseful stories about hard-bodied, take-charge heroes and the strong-willed women who crave them.
She loves it when people get weird with her on Instagram, NatalieWrye.com or NatalieWrites(at)NatalieWrye.com.
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