Revenge Forsaken Page 5

  “Thanks,” she muttered begrudgingly, but he didn’t answer as he slammed the door closed and walked over to the driver’s side. Olive’s eyes followed him, her thoughts far from pure as she appreciated the confidence of his stride, and the way the wind blew teasingly through his hair.

  The fusion of emotions that swam through Olive were difficult to tread through.

  This is a business arrangement, nothing more, she told herself. In two weeks, you’ll be done with Remy Anders and your father.

  Why, then, couldn’t she talk down the wave of heat building in her dampening pussy?

  6

  Am I out of my mind agreeing to this? Survey said yes.

  As much as Remy was disgusted by the deal he’d made with Victor Chaminga, he couldn’t deny that he was half-enjoying the idea of torturing his daughter for the next couple weeks — he still didn’t know how she figured into the swindling deals Victor made.

  It was the best trade he could think of, considering the circumstances but as they drove in silence back to his condo in Boston Edison, he couldn’t supress the uneasy feeling in his gut. Why would he think a man like Victor would give a shit whether his daughter was returned to him unscathed? The man had absolutely no scruples.

  Learning that Olive was Chaminga’s daughter had been a slap in the face to him. He thought about how he’d considered saving her back in the office but for what?

  Chaminga’s probably been training her in the “art” of conning unsuspecting or trusting people ... teaching her to take over his wretched enterprises and encouraging her to use any special talents she had as a beautiful woman to fuck rich men over and take them for all they’re worth.

  It was hard to reconcile that the innocent-faced beauty at his side was anything but an unwitting participant in her father’s schemes but how could she not be? She was sitting there, cool as a cucumber, as if she got sold off all the time.

  The notion incensed him and he gritted his teeth.

  “Where do you live?” Olive asked, breaking the quiet after several minutes.

  “I guess you’ll see,” he replied with more sharpness than he had intended but he didn’t apologize.

  Unwitting or not, there wasn’t going to be a friendship blossoming between them.

  We don’t need to be friends to have sex though, right?

  The bemused question entered his brain out of nowhere.

  Jackass, he chided himself. What are you going to do with the daughter of Victor Chaminga? You want no ties to this train wreck – she won’t be conning the rest of my money from me with her body.

  “Watch out!” Olive cried, reaching up to touch his arm protectively, as an oncoming car veered into their lane. Remy skilfully maneuvered the SUV to the shoulder, sounding his horn at the car, which had swerved back into his own lane.

  “Relax,” he retorted, pulling his arm away from her touch, almost reluctantly. Despite her fear, her hand had been placed gently on his arm.

  They didn’t exchange another word as he steered the car into the lot of his historic home. Once a sprawling mansion, the residence had been turned into a condo of sorts, with each of three floors becoming one self contained unit. The developer had managed to maintain its luxurious historical exterior, despite the interior being altered to accommodate the three living spaces.

  Between the shop and the show, Remy was basically at the apartment to sleep and shower, despite the luxuries it provided.

  Simon would have hated his place.

  “Who’s Simon?”

  He jerked his head around to look at her, dumbfounded before realizing that he’d spoken his thoughts aloud.

  He flushed and parked, not bothering to respond.

  What the fuck – I’ve never spoken what I was thinking aloud?

  “Look, Remy,” Olive sighed. “Are we going to give one another the silent treatment the entire two weeks?”

  “I don’t know how your days are, Olive, but mine are generally full. I don’t anticipate a lot of conversation — I doubt there’ll be much need for it.” He threw in, deliberately.

  At her quiet gasp, he grabbed his keys and turned off the keyless remote, jumping from the driver’s seat. Through his peripheral vision he saw Olive slowly amble out of the vehicle and start after him.

  Am I being an asshole to her?

  A resounding “yes” echoed through his mind but it wasn’t enough for him to change his attitude. He didn’t trust Olive any more than he did her father. As far as he knew, Victor had given Olive detailed instructions to scope out the rest of his fortune, while he left the two of them alone together. He balked at that thought, as he was certain Victor was putting his daughter in her place and telling her she had no choice.

  He wanted to hate her, to mistrust her, but the vulnerability she exuded made it very hard.

  “Fine,” she sighed as he used his fob to enter the underground entranceway. There was an elevator but he hadn’t used it since he’d moved in almost a year earlier. He half expected Olive to go for it but she didn’t put up a word of protest when he went for the stairs.

  So she’s not afraid to move. That’s something.

  He regretted that he hadn’t let her go up first when through his sidelong vision, he caught her eyes trained on his ass.

  Hardly seems fair.

  To her credit, Olive didn’t break a sweat when they reached his apartment and unlocking the side door, the two spilled into the kitchen.

  He cringed slightly, the cleaning lady wasn’t coming in for another two days and it showed. Dishes piled in the sink and the garbage was a banana peel away from overflowing. Mentally, Remy assessed what the other rooms looked like.

  It’s not like I anticipated a house guest.

  He looked at Olive with some sheepishness but she was looking around the space with some awe in her eyes.

  “This is a great space! Look at the light coming in!”

  That was not the response that Remy had been expecting and abruptly, he blurted out an apology for the mess.

  Olive blinked at him.

  “It’s not that bad,” she replied. “I’m used to much worse.”

  He heard the bitterness in her voice but she had already moved past the huge kitchen with its stainless-steel appliances and six-burner gas stove into the hallway beyond.

  “Jesus Christ.”

  She’s really impressed. Where the hell is the daughter of Victor Chaminga living that she finds this so ritzy?

  Remy realized he’d have to do some checking on Olive now, too.

  Or am I already too late? Just who the hell did I let into my house?

  “I was going to ask if you had a spare bedroom but I see that’s not going to be a problem,” Olive’s voice interrupted his thoughts, when he found her in the open-concept living room, gaping out the massive windows. “Holy hell, this place is gigantic!”

  “Well, you won’t be sharing my bed if that’s what you’re thinking,” he retorted and Olive’s brows shot up to her hairline.

  She’s got a heart-shaped face. I thought that was some stupid schtick writers used to sell books but it actually exists. Fuck me. Why does she have to be so fucking sexy?

  “You’re worried about me seducing you?” she demanded, her mouth gaping dubiously. “You’ve got to be joking!”

  Unable to stop himself, he smirked lazily.

  “What? I’m not hot enough for you?” he taunted. “That’s not what your eyes on my ass said two minutes ago.”

  Olive flushed pink, shifting her eyes away.

  “You’re flattering yourself.”

  “No,” Remy snapped back, steeling himself against his natural urge to flirt with her. “I’m telling you that no matter what your father told you back in the office, I’m not one to be fucked with. You will be added to my shit list, without regret or hesitation, if I smell one hint of bullshit from you, understand?”

  Uncertainty filled her coffee-colored eyes.

  “I…my father didn’t say anything abo
ut you,” she replied slowly. “He just said that I was coming to help you out. I assure you, I’m not trying to screw you over.”

  “Oh yeah,” Remy snickered, folding his arms over his broad chest. “And you always do what daddy wants, right? No questions asked?”

  Why are you being such a dick to her? You saw how shocked she was when Victor offered her up.

  Olive’s mouth firmed.

  “There’s more to it than that,” she muttered, also crossing her arms. He couldn’t help but stare at the swell of her breasts between the open buttons of her shirt when she did but if Olive noticed, she didn’t say anything.

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” Remy agreed. “The ‘more to it’ aspect. I don’t know what your father is hoping to gain by having you here but I’m not stupid enough to believe that you don’t know who he is and what he does.”

  “You don’t know a fucking thing about me!” Olive spat back with more venom than Remy had expected. “Where is my room?”

  “You can have any one that isn’t mine,” he told her gruffly, not wanting to continue the conversation. It had taken a weird turn and he didn’t want to start off their time together at war.

  Even if we already are at war. It’s better for everyone if it’s silent and behind the scenes.

  There was no need for Angus and Jillian to suspect anything was off when he brought Olive to the shop the following day.

  “What time do I need to be ready tomorrow?” Olive asked as she stalked into the hall. He watched her walk, grinding his teeth as he was once more sucked in by her undulating hips and cursed himself.

  “Six a.m.”

  She paused and whipped her head to glare at him.

  “Seriously? Six a.m.? It’s a tattoo business, not a breakfast diner.”

  Remy scowled at her.

  “What? Can’t handle the daylight on your skin, Princess?” he snapped. “Yes, six a.m. We’re filming on location tomorrow.”

  Interest lit her eyes and she nodded.

  “Oh…cool,” she muttered. “Good night.”

  “Yeah. Night.”

  Olive disappeared, leaving Remy to ponder his situation without her pheromones distracting him but just knowing she was in the condo was driving him over the edge.

  His cock pushed against the fly of his pants and Remy groaned to himself. He suddenly had an overpowering urge to grab his phone and open his Tinder app.

  But even if he was willing to leave Olive alone in the condo, Remy had a feeling that no one he would find on the site that night or any other would satisfy the desire building in his cock.

  No, that night, he would need to take a long, hot shower and handle business himself.

  And maybe hope that Olive Chaminga “accidentally” stumbled in on him while he did.

  Oh dear God. I’ve sunk back to college where I think that scenes in porn actually play out in real life.

  But that didn’t stop him from hurrying into the steam shower in his sprawling master bedroom and taking hold of himself as the near-scalding water spilled over his bronze skin.

  His huge shaft pulsated in his open palm and Remy leaned his head against the cool tile, closing his sooty eyes to envision Olive’s slightly angry face in his mind’s eye.

  Her mouth was slightly agape, perfect for him to slide his cock along the lines of her plump lips.

  Fuck…

  Slowly, in his mind’s eye, she lost the look of defiance and a glint of impish delight overtook the deep brown of her eyes as her tongue jutted out to sample the drip off his head.

  She wanted him, it was clear from the second he’d laid eyes on her and now she was proving it with her teasing lips. He marvelled at the power of his brain’s suggestion — he could almost feel her mouth suctioning around his dick, swallowing him whole, her uvula grazing over the tip until his entire length was locked inside her.

  “Jesus fuck!” Remy muttered, his breaths escaping in fast rasps, his wrist working at a frantic pace over the smooth, wet skin of his rod.

  His fantasy had her looking up at him with wide, guileless eyes that locked into him with a “come in my mouth” stare that he already knew well.

  His head swam with headiness as his sack tightened.

  With a long grunt, he released, spilling all over himself as the hot water washed away the fluid.

  Remy sighed heavily, still stroking himself but slower now until every drop had been spilled onto the stone floor of the shower.

  He opened his eyes, half-expecting to see Olive staring at him with the very same look he’d seen in his daydream but of course, he was alone.

  I really need to stop watching porn, he grumbled silently, reaching for the soap. Reality is such a bitch.

  7

  It wasn’t so much the early hour which bothered Olive when she woke but the fact that she hadn’t slept at all.

  All night, she had lain awake, tossing and turning in the oversized queen bed which was more comfortable than anything she’d ever known in her life.

  Not that Olive hadn’t known luxury. Victor’s ill-gotten gains had provided a very charmed life for Olive from a materialistic standpoint.

  Yet knowing from where the money had come was enough to find fault with every bit of opulence which had surrounded her from the start.

  But Remy’s place was different. He had earned his money. He wasn’t a sleazy criminal, hoping to run his own version of a mafia or whatever. Still, she couldn’t relax in his gorgeous apartment, as much as she wanted to appreciate the odd freedom of being away from her father.

  He hates me and he doesn’t even know me. He thinks I’m just like Victor.

  She tried to rationalize that it was a good thing. Getting friendly with Remy was a terrible idea on so many levels but knowing what he thought of her made her want to vomit and set him right, even if it meant exposing the truth about her mother.

  You won’t do that. He’s not your priest or your shrink. Just shut up and put in your time.

  She wondered what he was doing in his bed. Was he fast asleep or staring at the ceiling like she was?

  It was impossible for her not to want to sneak out and find out but she managed to keep her desires at bay. She would have a hard time explaining herself if he caught her padding around the condo in the middle of the night.

  He already thinks there’s something shady about you.

  And there was certainly enough to steal in the condo if her mind would go there. It wasn’t just the tasteful artwork and expensive lamps she’d seen.

  His sketches alone would be worth a pretty penny on the internet.

  He’s so fucking talented. How did he get involved with my father? He seems so smart, so together.

  She considered that maybe she had been wrong about him after all and that he was crooked too.

  Victor always said you couldn’t con an honest man. I wonder what he promised Remy to get him to fork over so much money — She couldn’t hear the entire conversation they were having in Victor’s office.

  Olive thought about her father and Remy, casually talking at a dingy strip club on Seven Mile and her heart began to race with a peculiar sense of jealousy and confirmation.

  Where else would they have met? Am I putting Remy on a pedestal when he’s just as dirty as Victor? He’s got a hell of a lot of nerve making me into the bad guy here.

  Somewhere around four a.m., she fell asleep but an hour later, the alarm on her cell phone chimed and she was thrust back into a world of uncertainty.

  The smell of coffee lured her out of the bedroom and into the kitchen where Remy stood, shirtless and in a pair of boxers which accented his ass in a way she thought she’d never see. His muscled back was almost covered in the most intricate tattoo and as he moved, different elements of the mural-style painting seemed to come alive. Olive was mesmerized, first by the picture on his back and then by the ripple of his muscles along the curve of his inked shoulders, all the way down the curve of his arm.

  Holy God.


  Gathering her breath, she cleared her throat slightly and he turned from the counter where he was pouring a cup of coffee. The movement exposed the top of a perfect six-pack, his front also littered by a burst of colors exploding into a thousand stories.

  Her knees went slightly weak under her skirt, the same she’d worn the night before and Olive was sure her eyes were glassy as she stared at him.

  “You want coffee?” he asked bluntly and without so much as a “good morning.”

  She nodded, not trusting her voice, ambling toward the kitchen island.

  “Help yourself,” he said coldly. Olive’s jaw tightened but she didn’t take the bait. As she looked for a clean cup, she could feel Remy watching her, his eyes boring into her hotly.

  “You see, this is what I was talking about,” he grumbled when she finally found a mug. “You can’t come onto the set dressed like that.”

  Olive glared at him defiantly.

  “It’s not slutty enough for you?” she shot back, crankiness getting the best of her. She hadn’t wanted to start the morning off like that but there they were.

  “Slutty? You look like you just rolled out of a box. You’re wrinkled, unprofessional. What the hell am I going to do with you?”

  I can think of a couple things.

  She silenced her sex drive.

  “What do you want me to do?” she asked, checking her temper. “I didn’t really have much of a choice in the matter and sadly, I don’t keep a filled suitcase handy in case my father decides to sell me to the highest bidder.”

  Remy’s eyes became slits.

  “Oh so he did tell you the truth,” he growled. “And you still went along with it. How charming.”

  “He didn’t tell me shit. I heard you two talking and I know he screwed you out of money so don’t play like you’re some innocent victim either, Remy. No one who deals with my father has clean hands. Trust me.”

  He seemed offended by the suggestion, his mouth firming in fury.

  “You don’t know anything,” he snarled back and Olive was consumed with a sense of déjà vu.