Beautiful Revenge (A Good Wife Book 1)

by Sienna Blake

  In the dark of my bedroom it was Alena’s kiss that replayed over and over.

  “Five years. Five years you’ve haunted me. You’ve tormented me.” The wound she made across my heart reopens, my pain spilling out, filling each one of my words. “You she-devil. You witch.” I beat my chest. “Why are you still in here?”

  She looks at me with such sorrow. Such longing painted across her face. “Dimi.” Her old nickname for me stabs my heart. She makes me believe that she still might love me. “I—”

  I crush my lips to hers before I know what I’m doing. She freezes but I don’t care. I’m stealing a kiss from her. I’m taking what should belong to me.

  When she melts against me and her lips mould to mine, my heart stutters. She’s kissing me back.

  She is kissing me back.

  I grip her to me, my fingers digging like claws into her body, ready to tear her apart. God, she is so soft. So warm. Her mouth opens for me, our kiss deepens. I sink a little further. My body fills with heat. Hungry, angry fire.

  I can no longer deny it. I still want her. I still want Alena.

  “Dimi?”

  I blink, my thoughts scattering like birds. They don’t go far. They circle overhead waiting to peck at me again.

  Javier raises an eyebrow. “You okay?” We’re sitting across from each other in the small living area in my guest room here in Worthington Manor.

  “Fine.” I turn back to the documents that Javier only just put in my hands. I have to focus.

  I flip through the pages. My written English is not the best; that’s what I have Javier for. But I know how to read numbers. “These financials are different from the ones Edgar has given me.”

  Javier raises an eyebrow. “How about that.”

  I scan the real financials, the ones that Javier finally got his hands on. Outgoings, income, debts, assets, capital… Holy shit.

  I look up to Javier.

  Javier nods. He knows what I’ve just realised.

  A smile spreads across my face, triumph tickling my belly. “Mr Worthington has been a very bad boy.” Any remorse I had about crushing his company to the ground is gone.

  “And…Alena?”

  A sob tears from Alena and pours into my mouth. Something threatens to break out of the place I banished it to. It threatens to fill my heart.

  I pull away and kiss up her tears. “Stay with me, Alena,” I whisper, drunk on her. “Stay with me… tonight.” I take her perfect mouth again.

  She’s a song in my head, on repeat.

  I want her like a sickness. Even after she rejected me. I can barely concentrate on anything else since that damned kiss. The hate that I had used like a knife to sharpen my focus over the last five years was…it wasn’t wavering, it was being misplaced by the thought of consuming her. Of taking her body.

  Like I should have done five years ago.

  Like I am owed.

  I just need to fuck her. Then I can get her out of my system. She made it quite clear last night she would have no part in that. The second rejection simmers underneath my skin, mixing with lust.

  I ignore Javier’s question about Alena as an idea begins to percolate.

  I say out loud, “I wonder how far Edgar Worthington will go to save his company.”

  37

  ____________

  Alena

  I refuse to acknowledge Dimitri. It’s not hard during the day as he and my husband lock themselves away in his office, hammering out their deal. At mealtimes, he doesn’t speak to me either. On the occasion that I happen to look up, I catch him scowling at me like he’s trying to figure something out. I don’t give him anything in return—no anger, no sadness, no longing. Nothing. I am numb.

  What hurts is that Emily’s still angry with me. She speaks to me in stilted tones. I don’t know what to do. I can’t apologise for disapproving of her crush on Dimitri. I will never approve that, not just because my heart feels like it’s being ripped apart when I imagine them together. I know that Dimitri’s only intentions are hateful and vengeful.

  I can’t tell her any of this. I can’t tell her why.

  Between meals I hide myself in my study, losing myself in writing. Pages and pages come pouring out of me, like someone has finally cut me open. The feelings I cannot express bleeding onto the pages in curls of black ink.

  Nobody finds me here.

  Not even Dimitri.

  I knock on my husband’s office door and stick my head in. “You wanted to see me?”

  My husband is standing at his window facing out, his hands folded behind his back. “Come in. Sit.”

  I frown as I take a seat in one of the plush chairs in front of his expensive wooden desk. I don’t think my husband has ever asked me to see him here. Only ever in his bedroom.

  “It seems Mr Wolf and I have reached an agreement.”

  If their negotiations are over, Dimitri will leave Worthington Manor. Twin fissures of both relief and disappointment go through me. I chastise myself for half of those feelings.

  “Congratulations,” I say.

  Only then does he turn on his heel to look at me. His lips are pressed into a thin line, a deep frown on his face.

  Something is wrong.

  “He has insisted on something…unusual as part of the deal. Something that I need your help with.”

  Dear God. What terrible plan has Dimitri concocted now?

  “Before I tell you,” his voice hardens, “let me remind you of all that I have spent on your upkeep. Let me remind you of the horrible place that I plucked you from. I will not be happy if you ruin this deal for me. In the long term, neither will you.”

  Edgar needs this deal. I heard him admit as much to Terrance. I study my husband’s face. It’s as cold as I’ve ever seen it. He and I don’t love each other. Despite his coldness, he has been something of a companion for me. He has made life comfortable for me, despite my occasional punishments. I have never wanted for anything material, at least, while I’ve been here. And he loves Emily, even if he has trouble showing it, which will always endear him to me.

  I nod my head. “I’m grateful for all that you’ve done for me.”

  “Good. I’d prefer you to do this willingly.”

  He’d prefer? He was prepared to force me if I didn’t? My blood begins to drain from my limbs. “Do what?”

  In my husband’s grey eyes is a flash of broken pride. “Dimitri wants to spend a night with you.”

  38

  ____________

  Dimitri

  I sit in the backseat of one of Edgar’s cars, his driver in the front, Javier beside me. We are driving to London today to meet with Edgar and his lawyers. He is already there preparing our contract. Satisfaction coils underneath my skin. Almost there. Almost.

  I remember the day when I strode into his office and made one final proposal to seal the deal. One night with Alena. I couldn’t believe it when Edgar said yes. He barely blinked, just a single bob of his Adam’s apple before he gave away his wife.

  I wanted to pump my fist in triumph. Right after I bashed his face in.

  Heat coils in my belly. When I return to Worthington Manor, I will have her. She will be mine.

  Mine.

  For only one night, an insistent voice reminds me.

  Outside the tinted window the Yorkshire countryside rolls by. I’ve never been here before this trip, but there’s something so…familiar about these lands. Rolling hills of low brush and fading pinky-purple heather, craggy crops of rock jutting out like old ruins. When the sky is grey and thick like today, the wildness of the moors feels lonely and desolate. The wind that whistles through all the cracks and caverns feels like it blows straight through my heart.

  This single lane gravel road that we take away from Worthington Manor passes a low set of buildings surrounded by a low stone wall. There, I spot a familiar form. One that I would forever recognise.

  “Stop the car,” I demand, without thinking it through.

  The
driver hits the breaks, the dirt coming up around us like a cloud.

  “Dimi, what is it?” Javier asks.

  Alena is there talking with a man in his forties outside one of those buildings. They’re standing close—much too close. Now she’s handing him a basket. He takes it from her and embraces her with his free arm. My blood boils. My hands turn to fists. Is Alena fucking him too?

  “Oh, it’s Miss Alena,” the driver says, breaking through my thoughts. I don’t know his name.

  “Nobody asked you,” I mutter. Javier smacks my arm. I don’t flinch. I don’t tear my eyes away from Alena. She and the man laugh at something. Anger boils inside me. She is not allowed to laugh.

  “That’s the school headmaster. Alena takes the manor leftovers to the schoolkids for their lunch,” the driver says in a pleasant tone as if he didn’t hear my muttering. “Mr Worthington used to just have them thrown away. Such a waste. Until Miss Alena changed that.” His voice is filled with affection for her.

  My previous assessment of her infidelity slinks away, replaced with guilt.

  “Really?” Javier says. “That’s very generous of her. Very selfless.” I can hear what Javier is not saying, a silent question of the devil-woman image I’ve constructed of Alena.

  She was always so generous. Almost to a fault. The infinite heart with the dreamer’s soul.

  I scowl. And say nothing as I wave the driver on.

  As the car passes, my gaze lingers on Alena, now kneeling beside a small boy. The image hits me in my gut, fingering my insides with longing for…

  I try not to look too deeply at these unwanted feelings as I shove them away.

  39

  ____________

  Alena

  Dimitri, Javier and my husband were in London all yesterday and today with their lawyers finalising the contract. I was the secret side deal, the cherry on the top, an extra perk.

  Now they’re back.

  Tonight I am to go to Dimitri in his guest room. I am to present my body to him. Like it’s some sort of prize.

  I fume as I sit at my dressing table, snatching a brush through my hair. Bastard. I refused him the other night when he asked me to go to bed with him. This is his way of screwing me anyway. Yet again, you win, Dimitri.

  I want to completely hate this, hate him. For some stupid reason, my panties are damp. My core is vibrating with anticipation. A part of me wants to be used by him. I’ve dreamed of this night, fantasized about it for seven years since the day I met him.

  I know that I won’t go through with my earlier idea of dressing in the ugliest pair of sweatpants and most oversized shirt I can find.

  I can’t deny it. I want Dimitri to want me.

  I hate that I want him to want me. I hate that even after all these years, after the way he’s treated me, even after this insulting request, I still want him. I want him like a sickness. Like a disease.

  I slip on my sexiest lingerie, a matching lace set with G-string and balcony bra from La Perla, covering it with a silk robe. My hand trembles as I drag the mascara wand through my lashes. My breath shakes as I apply my blood-red lip stain and blot.

  As a single act of defiance, I straighten my hair. It hangs like a golden curtain over my shoulders. Then I slide my feet into a pair of nude Christian Louboutin heels, the red lacquer underside like blood. I square my shoulders and leave the safety of my bedroom. I sense that the woman leaving is not the same one that will return.

  I don’t even know how I make it down the hallway. I feel dizzy. Tipsy. I don’t fear that I will be seen. The servants have been given the night off. My husband has taken Emily out for dinner. Dimitri and I are alone in this entire manor, in this entire estate.

  No one to hear me scream.

  I shudder at the thought, the ache growing between my legs.

  When I reach his bedroom door, my heart is beating like a drum. I get one night out of my contract. One night. Emotion wells up inside me. I have been waiting for seven years to be with Dimitri this way.

  Two years of his holding back. Five years of a passionless marriage.

  Dear God, I am ready. I am more than ready. I am standing at the edge of this abyss and I can’t wait to fall.

  Underneath, my skin trembles. I fear this night will ruin me. One night won’t be enough.

  I lift my hand to knock.

  40

  ____________

  Dimitri

  One night.

  Tonight.

  I shower quickly then dress in freshly pressed slacks and a crisp white shirt. I shave. I don’t want my stubble scraping against her soft skin. When I find myself dabbing cologne on my neck, I scowl.

  I shouldn’t be giving a shit about my appearance or how I smell. She is here for me. To please me. My final triumph. My victory over her and her spineless husband. What the hell was I doing treating this like some first fucking date?

  I tear off my button-up shirt and pressed dress slacks and wrap a bathrobe around me instead. What’s the point in clothes? All these things I’m just going to take off again anyway.

  I catch a look at my face in the mirror. I look…terrified.

  I hear a knock on my door.

  She’s here.

  I tighten the bathrobe around me.

  I am in control.

  “Come in.” I grimace at myself when I hear the shake in my voice. I’m as nervous as a teenager before prom.

  The door opens slowly. She steps inside and leans against the door after she shuts it, her fingers gripping the painted wood behind her. She’s wearing a silky robe wrapped around those curves I am dying to see, a bow on the front like she’s a present. My dick twitches. She is a present. She’s a present to make up for the years of torment she put me through.

  I take a step towards her. “You know, I was only half joking when I asked your husband for a night with you as part of the deal. I couldn’t believe the worthless piece of shit said yes.” My lip curls up as disgust spreads bitter on my tongue. “If you were my wife, I would never let another man touch you. But your husband is fine to spit on your marriage. If only you’d chosen me.” I take another step towards her.

  “I did choose you.” She takes a step towards me, her voice firm.

  “You threw me away for money.” My hands turn to fists by my side.

  Relax, Dimi. You won.

  If I won, then why am I still so fucking angry?

  Her eyes fill with pain, the sight stabbing me like splinters. “Dimi, I came back for you.”

  “Strip,” I growl.

  She doesn’t stop her attack, her voice camouflaged as soft pleading. “All those years ago. I realised that you were the only thing I needed and I came back. But you were gone.”

  Liar. She’s just trying to mess with my mind.

  “I said, strip.”

  She stiffens, lifting her chin. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.” With trembling fingers she tugs the end of her robe. It falls apart, revealing her body wrapped in matching red lace lingerie.

  Curse her. She is perfect.

  She is more stunning than my wildest imaginings. Soft womanly curves. Flat stomach. Long lean legs. And that defiant look in her eyes, the fire burning hot inside her. My brain short-circuits. My dick swells to painful.

  My plans, my mask, it all fades away. All I can see is her.

  41

  ____________

  Alena

  I feel so exposed. So vulnerable. My half-naked body out on display for this hateful creature.

  His gaze grows hungry as he drinks me in. He hasn’t even touched me, he’s just fucking me with his eyes. That’s all it takes for my nipples to harden to painful points. A hot ache ignites in my core. My panties grow damper. And I curse him.

  Even as I despise him, my body still wants him. My heart still clings to the man he once was. My soul aches to be reunited with his.

  He stalks right up to me, reminding me that he is the hunter and I am prey. I keep my chin up.

  I wal
ked in here hating that his blackmail has me serving myself to him on a platter. Within seconds he has my body crying out for him, wanting to lie across his lap and feed him whatever he desires. He has won, in more ways than one.

  “God, Alena,” he whispers, “you are stunning.”

  My skin is so sensitised that the touch of his breath on my cheeks makes me shudder.

  His fingers trace my hairline softly, almost reverently. Then down my neck, my body shivering at his touch, before he pushes the robe off my shoulders. It flutters to the ground.

  He chokes on a breath. His eyes roam over me, burning me with their intensity. Who is this man? Where is the Dimitri who wants to hurt me?

  He lifts his eyes and they catch mine. “You want this.”

  “No,” I say automatically.

  He laughs softly, almost mockingly. “You may have been forced to come to me tonight, but nobody forced to you wear this lovely lingerie set underneath your robe. You did that for me.”

  Bastard. My cheeks flame. “I don’t want—”

  “Stop playing games, Alena.”

  I suck in a breath as he reaches around me and unclips my bra, letting it fall to the floor. The cool air and his gaze hit my aching nipples.

  He shoots me a smirk as if to say, your nipples are as hard as diamonds.

  Okay, he’s proved his fucking point.

  He’s not finished yet. He slips his fingers in the sides of my panties, teasing me, his touch sending flares of heat through me. He drops to his knees as he tugs my underwear down to my ankles, making me jolt in shock.

  I am naked.

  Standing here in front of Dimitri on his knees.

  His hands grab onto my hips, making sure I can’t move. He laughs softly. “If you don’t want me, little lamb, then why are you so wet?”

  My cheeks burn, my body burns, as he stares right at the evidence of my lust, slick between my legs. He leans in—holy shit, he has his nose in my bare pussy—and inhales, letting out a soft groan which shivers through my core. “You smell good enough to eat.”