Todos os capítulos de Revenge Dating My Ex's Brother: Capítulo 51 - Capítulo 60

By six o'clock, I was at Ainsley, dressed, caffeinated, and pretending I hadn't spent most of the afternoon naked in August Belcourt's apartment.Marcus took one look at me and narrowed his eyes."What?""Someone got laid," he said jokingly."I had a nice Saturday.""Clearly."I pointed at him. "Don't."I left before he could get worse.The Saturday night crowd was nearly sold out. By seven thirty, the lobby was buzzing, the house manager was checking tickets, and I was backstage reviewing my notes. Everything was normal. Until Marcus appeared in the dressing room doorway."Mel."Something in his voice made me look up."What?""Paul's here."My stomach sank. "Here where?""In the audience.""Of course he is.""He bought a regular ticket. Orchestra, row H."Not the box. Not a conspicuous seat reserved for a Belcourt. Just another paying customer."Has he said anything?""No. But he looks like someone pissed in his champagne."I closed my script. "Fine. He paid for a ticket. He can watc

By Monday morning, I had decided two things. First, I was not going to let Paul Belcourt occupy another entire day of my life. Second, I was still annoyed with August.Unfortunately, the second decision was proving harder to maintain than the first. August had texted me Sunday evening to ask whether I'd eaten dinner. I'd replied that I had. He'd told me to sleep well. Perfectly pleasant, but also a little awkward.I put my phone away and walked into Ainsley, where Marcus was waiting with two coffees and the expression of a man who knew things."Don't," I said."I haven't said anything.""Your eyebrows have."He handed me a coffee. "How was Sunday?""August came over. We argued.""About Paul?""About August explaining Paul."Marcus winced. "Ah. The Belcourt family hobby."I laughed despite myself."Are you two okay?""Yes. We're just annoyed with each other.""Good. Because I refuse to referee a dispute between you and a man who could buy the building we're standing in.""He wouldn't."

The first indication that moving The Woman He Chose to Whitmore might be a pain in my ass arrived in the form of a rendering.I stared at my laptop. Then I zoomed in. Then I zoomed back out."No."Marcus leaned over my shoulder. "Oh.""No.""That's certainly a kitchen.""That is not my kitchen."Technically, it was. The basic layout was recognizable. Same cabinets. Same table. Same doorway where my character stood during the final scene. Except everything had been expanded for Whitmore's larger stage. There was a massive island. Sleek pendant lights. Floor-to-ceiling windows. And something glowing beneath the cabinets."Is that underlighting?"Marcus squinted. "I believe your betrayal has ambient lighting.""Why does my betrayal have ambient lighting?"My phone rang. Rebecca. Of course.I answered. "Please tell me this is an elaborate prank."She laughed. "You saw the renderings.""I have questions.""I assumed you would.""Why is there underlighting?""That's your first question?""I

The kiss deepened almost immediately. August’s mouth moved against mine with the same unhurried certainty he’d shown before in his apartment. His hand slid up my back beneath the soft fabric of my sweater, palm warm against bare skin. I shifted closer, throwing my leg more firmly over his hip, and felt the unmistakable hardness of him against my thigh.“How long until we land?” I whispered against his mouth.“Long enough.”He rolled us carefully so I was on my back. The bed was narrower than the one at his apartment, but it didn’t matter. August braced himself above me on one forearm and kissed me again—slower this time, deeper, the kind of kiss that made every coherent thought dissolve. I tugged at the hem of his shirt. He sat up just long enough to pull it over his head and toss it aside. My sweater followed. Then my bra. The cool air of the cabin touched my skin for only a second before his mouth closed over one nipple, hot and wet and devastatingly focused.I arched into him wit

The private terrace stayed empty the entire meal. No one interrupted. No one hovered. The only sounds were the distant hum of the city below and the soft clink of silverware against porcelain. August ordered for both of us without consulting a menu, something involving seafood and saffron that tasted like it had been prepared by someone who took personal offense at mediocrity. The wine was the same. Everything was the same: excessive, deliberate, and entirely focused on us.By the time the last of the candles burned low, the heat that had been simmering under my skin all day had turned into something sharper. August watched me across the table with that particular look he got when he was thinking about exactly how he planned to ruin me later.“Ready to go back?” he asked.“Yes.”The walk to the hotel was short and charged. Every time our hands brushed, the contact lingered a second longer than necessary. By the time the elevator doors closed on our floor, the air between us felt thick