Chapter 6

THE PERFECT STORM

~CLAIRE'S POV~

"Claire, darling, I would like you to meet Alexander Hayes." Eleanor's voice carried across the marble foyer like a bell, but I barely heard her.

I was still staring at the man whose hands had just been on my waist, whose business card was burning a hole in my purse.

"We've already met," I said, my voice steadier than I felt.

Eleanor's perfectly sculpted eyebrows shot up. "Have you now? How delightfully... unexpected."

Alexander's laugh was rich and warm, the sound making my skin tingle. "Eleanor, you're always trying to play matchmaker. Though I have to admit, your instincts are impeccable."

My eyes widened. "Matchmaker?"

Eleanor patted Alexander's cheek with the closeness of an old friend. "Well, if you did not go around Manhattan breaking girls' hearts, I wouldn't be forced to intervene, would I?"

The simple closeness between them sent warning bells through my head. "I don't understand what's…."

"Eleanor!" A voice called from across the room. "There you are!"

Eleanor squeezed my arm gently. "I'm afraid duty calls, darling. But Alexander will take excellent care of you." She fixed him with a pointed look. "Won't you, Alexander? And I do mean excellent care. This one is special."

Before I could protest, she was gliding away, leaving me alone with the man who was supposed to be my salvation.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Alexander observed, his green eyes dancing with amusement.

"Eleanor….." I started to call after her, but she had already disappeared into the crowd.

"I'm offended you're so desperate to escape my company."

I turned back to him, my heart hammering.

The truth was, I did not trust myself around him. His reputation preceded him, and Eleanor's obvious matchmaking had thrown my carefully laid plans into chaos.

I had not come here to find love.

My heart, as painfully as I hated to admit it, still belonged to Richard. I wanted power. I wanted revenge.

I wanted Richard to suffer for every cruel word, every dismissive glance, every moment he had made me feel like my love was suffocating.

I wanted him to regret choosing Monica over me.

But I was not ready to move on. I was not ready to give my heart to anyone else. My love for Richard was consuming—if not careful, it would ruin me.

But I would bear it.

"Champagne?" Alexander appeared at my elbow, holding two flutes of golden liquid.

I hesitated.

Richard had never offered me drinks at parties.

He had barely acknowledged my existence once he got caught up in business talk or schmoozing with investors.

The one time I had tried to get his attention, he had scolded me so harshly that I had wanted to disappear.

The memory still stung.

I had tried associating with other guests, but the women wanted nothing to do with me, and the men... well, they listened, but their interest had nothing to do with what I was saying.

The night everything changed flashed through my mind. A man had grabbed my waist inappropriately. I had slapped him.

Instead of defending me, Richard had been furious—at me.

"You were flaunting yourself," he had hissed in the car afterward. "Acting like a slut while your husband was right there."

He had not touched me for a month after that. Called me names. Made me feel like I was nothing.

"Earth to Claire." Alexander's voice pulled me back to the present.

"Sorry." I accepted the champagne, taking a full sip to steady my nerves.

"Impressive liquid tolerance." His smile was approving, and I felt heat rise in my cheeks.

Looking around the room, I noticed the stares.

The whispers.

The two women from the bathroom were glaring at me openly, one mouthing "gold digger whore" in my direction.

I should have been used to this. Should have developed thicker skin. But the truth was, I had come here to catch a rich man to fund my revenge.

I was ready to use any means necessary, even if it meant being called names.

As long as I got what I wanted.

As long as I brought Richard to his knees.

Alexander must have noticed my discomfort because he glanced around, taking in the nasty stares.

Without thinking, I reached out and touched his wrist, my fingers trailing along his skin in what I hoped looked like a flirtatious move.

His eyebrows shot up in surprise.

God, I was really doing this. Really sinking this low.

"Could we go somewhere private?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. "Away from the prying eyes?"

Alexander's smile turned predatory. "Lead the way."

I was surprised he did not argue or question me. Maybe he was that easy. Or maybe he was just used to women throwing themselves at him.

I kept my head high as I walked through the crowd, ignoring the whispers that followed in our wake. Alexander stayed close behind me, his presence like a heated shadow.

My heart was beating so fast I was sure he could hear it. I had no plan. No idea what I would say or do once we were alone.

I hadn't expected to meet him this quickly, hadn't expected him to take such an obvious interest in me.

Did he know who I was? My divorce had been splashed across every society page. Richard was too well-known a figure for it to stay quiet.

The media had probably had a field day with the story of the devoted wife who had lost her husband to her best friend.

Let them make fun of me. Soon they wouldn't be laughing when I destroyed Richard and Monica.

I stopped in front of a door marked "Private Lounge." Everyone was busy at the party—no one would think to come here except cheating couples looking for privacy.

How fitting.

I bit my lower lip, acutely aware of Alexander watching me. My reputation was already in ruins. Richard had made sure of that.

What did I have left to lose?

I grabbed the door handle and stepped inside, Alexander following close behind. The soft click of the lock made my pulse spike.

I was about to turn and face him when strong hands gripped my wrists, pulling me back against a hard chest.

Before I could react, I was being spun around and pressed down onto the plush couch, Alexander's weight pinning me beneath him.

"What are you—" I started, but he caught my wrists, pinning them above my head with one hand while the other found my exposed thigh where my dress had ridden up.

"I didn't think you were this type of woman, Claire," he murmured, his voice pure seduction.

His fingers traced slow circles on my skin, moving higher with each pass.

Panic flared through me. This wasn't what I had planned. I was not ready for this.

"Stop," I breathed, struggling against his hold. "Get off me."

"Isn't this what you wanted?" His green eyes glittered in the dim light. "Suggesting a private room, bringing me here for our little rendezvous?"

"No, I….." The words stuck in my throat as his meaning sank in.

He thought I had brought him here for sex.

"I didn't expect this behavior from a divorcée," he continued, and the word hit me like a physical blow. "Especially from the former wife of my stepbrother."

The world swayed. "Your what?"

"Richard Blackwood." His smile was sharp as a blade. "My dear stepbrother."

Ice flooded my veins.

Richard had a half-brother—David. Sweet, kind David who had tried to comfort me during the loneliest parts of my marriage.

David who had confessed his feelings for me when Richard was at his cruelest.

But this was not David.

Before I could process what was happening, Alexander's mouth crashed down on mine.

The kiss was hungry, desperate, like he had been waiting for this moment. His tongue parted my lips as a low groan escaped him.

My mind reeled. How many stepbrothers did Richard have?

What was Alexander's connection to the family? And why did it feel like I had walked straight into a trap?

Alexander's kiss grew more demanding, more possessive. My heart was breaking because I could feel myself losing—losing before I had even started.

It was all Richard's fault.

Why did I love a man who had turned into a monster? What was so good about Richard that had made me so blind to what he was becoming?

I hated him. And I would make him pay, even if it meant losing my pride.

Closing my eyes, I stopped fighting. Tears slipped down my cheeks as I surrendered to the kiss, to the plan, to whatever this was becoming.

‘Fuck you, Richard,’ I thought as Alexander's hands roamed my body with practiced skill.

‘I will come for you like a beautiful nightmare dressed in silk.’

But as his lips moved to my throat, as his fingers traced patterns that made my breath catch, one thought echoed through my mind:

Who was hunting whom?