Revenge On Her Dad’s Best Friends (Three Ways To Get Even #2)

Chapter Six

Calista walked into the living room of the penthouse, struggling not to be awed by the sheer luxury of the place, then made a show of looking around her bored but curious before she faced them again. That was harder to do than she thought.

They stood with their legs braced apart, their hands in the pockets of their suit pants. How could they look so fresh when she was probably growing dark circles under her eyes inside the mask just from the stress alone?

Oh, shoot. Fine, she’d admit it. They were incredibly handsome; she couldn’t deny that. They were also mean asses to her, and she wanted them to apologize for their abhorrent behaviors toward her. Multiple times, if she had her way.

But her breath caught and, arg, she wanted to squeeze her boobs—anything to deflate her nipples. The last thing she needed was to tear a hole into the latex with her suddenly pebbled breast beads.

Also, it was getting just a trifle too hot inside the suit, particularly between her legs. She’d have to worry about that later.

“Let’s get this party started, shall we? Oh, and compliments of Lady Night, I’m here to take care of you,” she said, reciting the line Tabby had insisted she used to make herself more authentic.

“So how about we take this somewhere a little more intimate? Somewhere with a bed,” she said as seductively as she could.

That was quick thinking on her part. After her brief perusal of the room, she quickly ascertained there was nowhere to tie all them up together. The chairs looked too heavy to move and cluster together, and she didn’t want to work up more of a sweat since she was already brewing one inside the suit.

Oh, god. Her nerves let her know she was, in fact, getting a little too uncomfortably heated now for her own good. It’s okay. She just needed to tie them up, tell them what she came here to tell them, and be gone. She’d keep in the suit until then. Wouldn’t she?

In her mind’s eyes, she envisioned that the bedroom upstairs would have a four-poster bed, so she could line them on the bed and handcuff them in a row to the posts.

Without waiting for them, she led the way up the gold and chrome staircase, where each step seemed to be suspended in nothing but air. She kept her pace slow and measured. If she fell to her death before she completed her mission, she was going to be so freaking mad. And it was only belatedly that she realized there was a glass elevator she could have taken instead.

She didn’t expect the relief that filled her to be so intense when they followed her up, quickly erasing a contingency backup she didn’t have.

She poked her head into the first room and found a study. That wouldn’t do. The next room was another reception area, and the next was a home theater. The third room, thankfully, was a bedroom, and it was perfect for the revenge of the century.

Her heels sank into the dense wool fibers of the carpet. Adorned with state-of-the-art furniture, a lounge area occupied the right side of the bedroom. A huge custom-made bed graced the center of the room, and the scent of expensive male cologne lingered in the air around her. A mixture of all three of their scents.

She immediately spotted three chairs, which looked light enough for her to carry, scattered around the lounge area.

Perfect. Perfect. Perfect.

She placed her whip and the briefcase Lady Night had given her as their actual birthday presents on a white marble side table, then got to work.

Without saying another word, she swayed toward the chairs, aware their gazes remained glued on her. Working slowly and as seductively as moving furniture around in a catsuit allowed, she arranged the chairs.

Her gaze drifted to them, and they looked completely bored with her, so bored they resorted to removing their suit jackets and ties to give them something to do. Whatever.

First, she thought all three chairs in a row would work; that way she could address all three of them at the same time, but then she found that a bit boring. That arrangement lacked the pomp she was looking for.

She then moved them in the circle and tilted her head when she realized she would have to stand in the middle, and since the circle couldn’t be that big if she still had to handcuff their wrists together, which meant she would just end up looking awkward in the middle.

Arg. It had to be perfect. She hadn’t waited five years—well, four years idling and the last year on fire, to see them—to mess up seating arrangements.

She cast another quick gaze their way and found them looking at her with bemused expressions on their disgustingly handsome faces. Screw them. They weren’t going to rush her. But god, she was really beginning to perspire in all the wrong places. How much longer was she going to last in the suit? The sight of them didn’t help at all, for reasons she couldn’t fathom.

She repositioned the chairs for a third time. This time she placed them in a tight circle, with the backrests facing each other. Now she could crack her whip, reveal her identity, tell them stuff, and she could do it all while prancing around them, circling them like an apex predator circling her prey. She definitely had the fanfare part down now. But then only one of them at a time would see her big reveal.

Argh.

She went back to putting the chairs side by side. It was the only way.

“Gentlemen,” she said at last. “Please take a seat.”