After my company went bankrupt, my fiancé kicked me when I was down and sent me to my enemy's bed. He said, "As you get older, it hurts more. If you help me bring him down, I'll return everything to you." However, on the day I actually married that man, my fiancé's eyes turned red, and he reminded me not to take it too seriously. I scoffed and said, "That's not possible; he's well-endowed and good in bed, so I'm going to take it seriously." Later, when his company went bankrupt, I sent him to a rich woman's bed: "As you get older, it hurts more, so I'll pass this blessing on to you."
Chapter 1
After my company went bankrupt, my fiancé turned on me and sent me straight to the bed of his rival.
"Older men know how to treat women well," he said, his tone dripping with mockery. "You bring him down for me, and I'll return everything to you."
But when the day came that I really married that man, my fiancé's eyes turned red with jealousy, and he warned me not to let the act become real.
I scoffed. "Oh, but it's too late. He's 'good' in bed, you know-skilled, generous, and knows how to spoil a woman. I'd be a fool not to take it seriously."
Later, when his company crumbled to dust, I sent him straight into the arms of a wealthy cougar. "Older women know how to spoil men. Think of it as my parting gift."
...
"Pick one."
Bryan Wall's voice held an edge of amusement as he gestured toward the transparent lingerie spread across the bed. Those flimsy scraps weren't for us. They were for his sworn enemy.
"Kristy, don't look at me like that," Bryan said, his lips curling into a smirk. "Jacob may be a few years older, but older men know how to treat women well. You won't be suffering much."
Treat women well? I nearly laughed.
The man he spoke of, Jacob Wallace, was notorious. As head of the Wallace family, his temper was as unpredictable as a storm, and his methods of "entertaining" women were infamous. Bryan didn't care if I survived the encounter-only that I brought Jacob to his knees.
Bryan's fingers pinched my chin, rough and cold. "Jacob likes women like you. Please him, and the East Side project will be mine."
"Bryan, wasn't stealing my father's company enough for you? Now you're trading your own fiancée? Have you really sunk that low? No wonder your dad brought his illegitimate son back to take everything from you."
A flicker of anger passed through Bryan's eyes, and his grip tightened painfully, drawing a sharp breath from me.
"Don't test me, Kristy," he said darkly. "Do this for me, and you'll get your family's company back."
My lashes lowered as I let out a soft, cold laugh. "Fine."
He thought he was using me, but Bryan had no idea what he'd just set into motion.
Jacob entered the room as I knelt on the bed-an image of shame and submission that wasn't entirely unfamiliar. His gaze darkened, something dangerous swirling in its depths.
"Tonya, it's been a while," he said, voice low and taunting, his fingers hooking onto the silk ribbon of my slip. A single tug, and the illusion of modesty would disappear. "Ah, wait. I should call you by your new name, Kristy Jackson. The proud Jackson heiress."
Yes, Jacob and I knew each other well. Too well. He had raised me for ten years.
At seven, I'd been kidnapped. At fifteen, Jacob found me and took me in. From seven to seventeen, we were each other's only family, each other's only lifeline.
And then, on the day my biological father finally tracked me down, I learned the truth. Jacob had orchestrated it all. He had me kidnapped to get back at the Jackson family. He kept me close to raise me as a tool, a weapon to wield against my own parents. My mother had died of heartbreak, sick and mourning a daughter she thought she'd lost forever. Jacob's "kindness" was nothing but a lie.
So I betrayed him in turn. I stole confidential files from him and gave them to my father, a parting knife plunged into the back of the man who had made me his pawn.
I still remember the way he looked at me that day-equal parts grief and fury.
"Tonya," he had said. "The next time we meet, you'll learn what true regret feels like."
Now, he had me pinned beneath him, his revenge as scorching as the heat of his hands on my skin. And yet, there was no satisfaction in his gaze.
"Does it hurt?" he murmured, voice low and dangerous.
I bit my lip, refusing to make a sound.
He only smiled, leaning close to brush his lips over the blood I'd drawn.
"Good. Remember that pain, Tonya. Don't you ever forget me."
I left the hotel the next morning, the bruises of the night hidden under my clothes, only to be greeted by a wall of photographers and reporters.
"Miss Jackson, is it true that after the Jackson family went bankrupt, you resorted to selling yourself to survive? Who was the man you spent the night with? Sources say your chaotic personal life drove your fiancé to abandon you and let your family fall into ruin. What do you have to say to that?"
I stared at the cacophony of voices and flashing cameras, my gaze sliding past them to a familiar face-Diana Jackson.
My cousin, who grew up leeching off our family, now stood grinning with satisfaction, as if watching my fall was the highlight of her life. She had allied with Bryan to take us down. She wanted to see me humiliated.
Too bad for her-I had other plans.
Reaching up, I swept my hair over my shoulder, baring the marks Jacob had left on my neck.
"You want to know who the man was?" I said, my voice cutting through the noise. "Fine. I'll tell one media outlet. Just one."
Their eyes lit up, anticipation sharpening the air. I smiled slowly, wickedly.
"Whoever pays the highest price wins."