Calm down, a voice in my head speaks. You’re spiraling, Libby. Just take a deep breath.
But I shove the voice away. No, I think as I sit down at my kitchen table. I’m not going to walk away from this. Patrick Arrington is going to pay for what he did to me. The only question is how?
I purse my lips as I think it over. There are plenty of ways to get revenge, that’s for sure. He has a good, well-paying job, and that’s something I could work with. Briefly, I consider forwarding the pictures to his boss, but then decide against it. The guard was right: I was lucky that my ex didn’t press charges, and if I try it again, he might change his mind. I suppose I could always try to sabotage his career in some other way, but even that sounds too risky now that I’ve seen the inside of a jail cell.
Besides, I need to do something to make Patrick feel the same pain I felt when I saw those pictures. Something legal that will break his heart, stomp on it, and crush him into a million pieces. Something that will make him regret ever lying to me.
I unlock my phone and begin to scroll through the pictures I have of us together, searching for inspiration. The snaps now make me feel disgusted because I was so trusting and innocent, with a sunny smile and my hair blowing in the breeze. But they’re a window into his personal life. There has to be something I can do that will emotionally destroy him.
Then, as I thumb through my gallery, mind racing, I freeze. Staring back at me is another picture of Patrick, except this time it’s at a business conference I attended with him back in August. He’s shaking hands with someone, but I’m not interested in Patrick. I’m interested in the tall, dark, and handsome man standing off to the side. A man who might hold the key to my revenge.
Frisco Arrington. Patrick’s older brother.
It’s so simple that it’s almost poetic. How did I not think of this before? Frisco: the dominating, hot-blooded, wealthy, gorgeous businessman whom Patrick wishes he was. In his thirties, built like a god, and, as far as I know, single. Even better? He’s Patrick’s older brother.
Bingo. Is this unethical? Yes, but that’s the best part. I’m already imagining the look on Patrick’s face when he finds out that I slept with his older, hotter, to-die-for brother. It’s true, I don’t know Frisco well because we’ve never really talked, but that doesn’t matter. I’m Libby Rain, and when I want something, I get it.
The only question is how? Frisco and I are barely even acquaintances, so I can’t just contact him out of the blue.
That’s an easy one, a voice in my mind whispers. Think about what he does for a living.
I straighten with a smile on my face. It’s perfect. Frisco is the founder and CEO of Third Rail Coffee, a chain of coffee shops that has absolutely blown up over the past few years. There are already franchises all over the West Coast, and it sounds like they’re cropping up in New York City now, too. Sure, he isn’t a barista like me, but there’s enough of a connection to explain myself. Hell, it makes sense - all I have to do is tell him I’m looking for business advice. That’s my way in. I just need to make sure I don’t screw up, but that won’t be a problem. My rage will guide me.
For the first time since last night, I break into a smile. I’m going to do it. I’m going to sleep with my boyfriend’s brother and relish every second of it.
4
Frisco
* * *
I don’t suffer fools easily. The trajectory my career has taken is proof enough of that. You don’t get to where I am in life by letting people walk all over you because the world of business is a jungle. It’s eat or be eaten, and if you want to get to the top, you can’t be afraid to hurt people’s feelings. It’s true that I’ve only been in business about ten years, but I’ve learned how to assert my dominance when necessary. That’s how I managed to climb the ladder, starting from nothing, to own one of the most successful coffee chains in the country. You either grow a backbone, or you get lost in the shuffle.
That’s also why, when my doorbell rings at 9:30 p.m., I almost don’t answer it. I’ve had a hell of a week, and I was looking forward to enjoying a glass of bourbon alone in my penthouse apartment. It’s a Friday night, after all, and even CEOs have to wind down somehow or risk burning out.
I look around leisurely. Everything in my apartment is top of the line, from the minimalist lamps to the plush carpets. It comes with the territory, and understated elegance has always been my style. I haven’t even had a chance to change out of my work shirt and trousers, I’ve been so busy answering emails ever since stepping in the door.