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The Revenge Games Duet

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“You know what?” He lifts my chin, knowingly capturing me with his luring stare. “Knowing Katya, and I think I can say I do, you’ve granted her wish. She just wants to see you love and love her granddaughter just like she loves you. Anything else is a bonus.”

The corner of my lip curves upward, a smile in tow as the tears slowly dissolve. “Like visiting the Colosseum and kissing an Italian man?”

“Yes.” He grins, eyes beautifully lighting up with joy. “I’m sure we can make that happen.”

“Or cuddling a koala in Australia?”

“Yes, although I heard they are fierce and can claw your eyes out, but sure, we can.”

I take a step back, analyzing his body mannerisms to see if this is all a scam to get me back into his life. In the short time we have spent together, I never expected this to happen. Fall in love with a man so wrong for me, and me so wrong for him, then create this family.

“You would do that? Give up everything to spend these next few months with my mama… Flynn included?”

Extending his hand, he reaches for my shirt and pulls me into his body. As soon as it touches his, that jolt, the sensation that happens every time his body touches mine, kick-starts my heart and makes my stomach flutter all in that one moment. With a soft, tender scrape of his thumb against my

bottom lip, he moves in closer and grazes his lips against mine, kissing me deeply as the whimpers of anticipation become trapped in our kiss.

My hands move toward the back of his head, clutching his hair as I did so many times before but this time, I allow myself to succumb to the moment, missing him terribly and questioning my need to escape him when it becomes so painfully obvious that he’s the only man I’ve ever loved.

His lips are warm, and each time we pull apart, our breathing is shaky and shallow.

We both need each other like the air we breathe. Without it, we have no chance of survival.

In the cool of the night, nestled between the tall, dark trees and surrounded by no one besides each other, we kiss as if our lives depend on it. Both of us so desperate to regain the last nine months we have lost.

Wesley moans into my mouth, placing his hand on my shoulder then sliding it up and settling on my neck. Pulling away, slowly, he rests his forehead against mine, catching his breath.

“For once, I can say money does buy happiness. I will spend every cent I own to give your mom the final moments she deserves. As for Flynn, he’s like the brother I never had.”

Resisting the urge to kiss him and control my ravenous breathing, which becomes more difficult as each moment passes, I manage to whisper, wanting reassurance, “You would do that?”

“I want it all. You, family, happiness, your mom with us… hell, I’ll buy a house next door to Phoebe’s.”

My laughter escapes. How does this man evoke so many emotions from me that no one else can ever do? He’s crazy. Plain and simple.

“Wow, you must really love me if you’re willing to move next door to Phoebe.”

And just like that, his expression relaxes, and the beautiful man that I have unraveled beneath all the masks is standing before me and offering me a life that I have never imagined.

I don’t care what people think about Wesley, or us, for that matter. All that matters is what we think. I love him, every inch of his screwed-up soul. And just maybe, he has finally met his match.

I’m every bit as screwed up as he is.

And that, oddly, makes me content.

“Seeing you happy makes me happy. Jesus, Milana. You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you. I knew it, that day in the café. Something about you, I just couldn’t forget. And yes, the twisted piece in that puzzle is that you were Em’s assistant, and I wanted revenge. But everything I do from this moment will ride on one important thing, one important condition.”

Taking a step back, my breathing becomes rapid and shallow. My pulse is pounding in my temples. I have no idea what condition he will demand, or if I’m even willing to sacrifice whatever it is to make him happy. I gaze into his eyes, willingly drawing myself in and experiencing the magic which arises every time he looks back at me this way—mischievous with a deadly grin—a man with an ulterior motive. In ways, this look—so deep and transcending—scares and excites me at the same time.

It’s Wesley Rich.

Mr. Bad Boy.

What could he possibly want from me that I haven’t already given him?

And then, in the middle of these rusty woods, Wesley Rich gets down on one knee.

“Marry me.”



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