The Redemption (Filthy Rich Americans 4)

He stared at my chest, refusing to meet my gaze, and he looked like I’d just put a fist in his stomach.

Over his shoulder, I watched as Sophia slipped out and stood near the side of the building, and although her focus didn’t appear to be on us, I was certain it was. I settled the full weight of my intense gaze back on him.

“You made a mistake when you slept with Alice,” he shrank back, but I kept my tone even, “and your wife has just paid for it, so I suggest you thank her.”

Disbelief finally drew his gaze up to mine, and when he saw I was entirely serious, he turned hesitantly toward her. “Thank you.”

It was humiliating for him, and it gave me a modicum of satisfaction. I rolled my shoulders back. “I consider this matter settled between us.”

He couldn’t believe it. “Really?”

“Yes. I am striving to be a better man these days.” I couldn’t stop the pointed directive from coming forward, though. “But you will remember how forgiving I was if you’re ever asked to vouch for my character.”

Liam nodded quickly. “Of course.”

He took his wife’s hand, anxious to be gone from my sight before I changed my mind, and it wasn’t long before Sophia moved in, filling the space at my side.

“That was unexpected.” It wasn’t clear if she meant the results of the auction or the abrupt forgiveness I’d given a man I despised. She asked it in a hush. “You all right?”

Strangely, I was. It felt good not to have the burden. “I’m fine.”

She accompanied me as I walked to the edge of the porch, and I rested my hands on the railing, looking out over the water. For a long moment, the two of us lingered there in enjoyable silence, admiring how the moon looked as it hung over the ocean.

“I assume you encouraged both Evangeline and Ainsley to bid.”

“Yeah. I did.” She gave me a guilty smile. “But you want to know something interesting?” Electricity sparked in her eyes. “I told them you’d cover fifteen K. So, that last ten grand they bid? It was all them.”

She had an infectious smile, and that saying was appropriate. I was becoming infected by Sophia. I’d never been quick to smile, but it kept happening when she was around.

“Thank you for your help tonight,” I said.

My appreciation landed on her and she nodded, perhaps unsure of what to say.

“What’s next in this plan of yours?” I asked.

She looked up at me with mischief in her eyes, and it was enticing. “I start telling you Cape Hill’s secrets.”

Instead of reading blogs about the stock market during my run tonight, I used that time to evaluate what I wanted and how I would achieve it. Once the decision had been made, I increased the treadmill to the highest speed I could sprint and told myself if I could complete a quarter-mile while maintaining that pace, I’d allow myself to have Sophia.

I set a new personal record.

And although I was gasping for breath when it was over, I was pleased with both my victories.

After my shower, Lucifer sat on the edge of my bed and meowed angrily, displeased we were behind the schedule he liked to keep. I did not like being summoned, and I glared at him as I made my way toward the bed. “All right, I’m coming.”

I’d barely lain down before he was beside me, turning in a circle to find the right spot to settle into, where he’d be irritatingly pressed to my side.

My phone buzzed with a text message.

Sophia: You up?

Me: Yes.

Sophia: Just left a party where everyone was talking about you.

Me: In a positive light?

Sophia: Oh, yeah. Everyone loves a bad boy who’s secretly a good man.

FOURTEEN

SOPHIA

DAMON LYNCH’S FUNDRAISING PARTY, which was masquerading as his sixtieth birthday celebration, was devouring my life. I didn’t have to plan every detail, as Macalister had authorized a budget, told me to hire a team of coordinators, and Mr. Lynch’s team said they’d send someone from the campaign to help, but I still had to run point on all of it.

I enjoyed this kind of work, but the pressure was intense. It was beyond important to me that I do a good job. If the party was a success, it was further proof to Macalister that I was a valuable asset and, oh, how I desperately wanted to please him. If I wasn’t thinking about the party, my thoughts were on the man in the office next door.

I’d gone down on him.

He’d given me an orgasm.

And now he wanted to pretend none of that had happened. Well, fine. I’d play his game, and I’d freaking beat him at it. Macalister could say whatever he wanted, but Monday morning after the auction, there was another white box on the table in his office waiting for me.