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

Chapter Eight

Reece Fischer always prided himself on being the voice of reason, the calmer one, but fucking, fucking hell.

They’d done a stellar job of minding their own business. Doing their damndest avoiding all contact with her for reasons they were not ready to face themselves, and now she was here. She’d circumvented their rather foolproof methods and mechanisms by somehow getting Lady Night on her side, not an easy feat to achieve.

Calista Ann Saunders. Their best friend’s little girl. The little girl they promised they would take care of now that Hank wasn’t there to fill the role.

Fuck.

There was no denying their collective hearts had missed a beat at the sight of her, standing in their penthouse, dressed in black latex from head to foot. Did she think the mask would conceal who she was from them?

They’d spent half a decade evading her, trying to forget every single curve of her body, and failed. If they were blind and only had their hands to guide them, they’d still be able to pick her out from a sea of other women.

It had started around five years ago when Hank had died, but now, almost five years later, avoiding the fucking pesky feeling that had settled into their blood niggled more insistently.

Recently, they found it harder to stop thinking about her.

Hank’s daughter. Hank’s little girl. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

She hadn’t grown up around them, so they saw her maybe a handful of times. While Hank made time for them, coming to see them regularly no matter what, they’d been too busy taking over the world.

But the moment before Hank could pass away, he made them promise to take care of this little girl and to always look out for her.

What did they know about taking care of a nineteen-year-old girl? They knew nothing, so they did the best thing they could. They deposited ten million dollars into her bank account and made sure she had zero problems in three areas of her life.

She owned the house she lived in, so no one could tell her what to do. They owned the company she worked at, and all the right people knew that, so no one would give her shit without putting their lives on the line. And if she ever got into trouble with the law, on either side of it, they’d make her problems disappear from the sidelines.

That was all they could do for her. End of story.

They never got into contact with her. They made sure she didn’t get into contact with them. She tried though, and every time she was blocked. Again, why would they want to see her? They were in their forties; they had no idea what to do with a nineteen-year-old. Okay, she was twenty-four years old now, but the same rule applied. Their worlds were completely different. She was too innocent for them. Always would be.

Hank wanted them to take care of her. That’s what they did, from a distance. As far as they knew, she was happy. She had her best friend, who they also made sure stayed alive. She loved her job from what they could tell, and she loved her house. She didn’t have any boy trouble; well, she didn’t have any boyfriends, because they took care of that as well. She was not going to be dating any young, dumb, full of unnecessary cum, fucktard bastards—Zach’s words, to be precise, although he and Bradford agreed with his vocabulary.

The truth remained: no one would ever be good enough for her. Ever. They were very much okay with her dying a virgin.

But she was here now.

“KittyHotStuff69?” Zach asked incredulously. “Is that what she called herself?”

“Apparently so,” Reece said.

“Ah fuck,” Zach sighed. “Is she really taking a shower in our bathroom right now?”

Yes, that was exactly what Hank’s daughter was doing. Taking a shower in their bathroom. Within easy reach. If Reece had to guess, she’d become overheated in that catsuit she wore and needed to get out of it immediately. They’d seen her struggle before giving in and excusing herself to remove the suit. And why not take a shower while she was at it too?

A blinding image of her naked in the cubicle, water sluicing down her curves, entered his brain without his permission.

Fuck their lives.

“How long do we play along?” Bradford asked, tension filling his voice. Of the four of them, Hank included, Bradford had always been the most serious. Zach was the most charming, and Hank had been the most romantic.

If Bradford had it his way, Calista would be packed up and shipped off somewhere as far away from them as possible. If it had been anyone else in the world, they wouldn’t be handcuffed and sitting in three chairs in Reece’s bedroom in one of their penthouses. Not because no one would get that far, but because no one would dare try.

But she tried and fuck they had let her get this far.

No matter what, they were still men who took what they wanted—maybe not in the last five years, but having her this close was just a little too dangerous for her.

The instant they recognized her when she stepped into their penthouse, without saying so much as a word to each other, they decided they would give her a minute to see what she was up to. She’d gotten Lady Night on her side; that was something.

Although pressed, they would have to admit she caught them completely off guard, and that had delayed their reaction to her.

“Let’s give her a little more time,” Reece said. “She didn’t get to finish what she was saying.” And Reece was intrigued, to say the least. What did she want from them?

Once they’d gotten over the shock of seeing her, shock being a reaction they would not willingly admit to having, they assessed the situation and took the necessary measures.

By necessary measures, they wondered if she would use those three sets of handcuffs dangling from her waist and chiming together with every movement she made, then assumed she would. Bradford had then surreptitiously picked up a paper clip from the desk and pinned it to his cuff. They supposed they should thank John Wayne for that.

The fragrance of their shower gel and shampoo permeated the air, except it smelled completely different on her. She could torture them using her scent alone, and that was fucked up in too many ways to count.

Fire blazed in his veins as she came into view. Dear fucking god.

She’d swapped her catsuit for one of the white shirts in the closet, and while it was way too big for her, the hem reaching her mid-thigh, the slope of her breasts was distinctly visible. So was the dusk of her areola and her diamond-hard nipples.

Reece immediately shut down the physiological reactions in his body, cutting off the rush of blood to his cock. He wasn’t the only one fighting against his tormented body.

She was their best friend’s daughter. She was too young, too innocent, and what superseded everything else was that she remained completely untouchable. They would never let Hank down. They would never give in and touch his daughter, not in the ways that kept them up at night.

Never.