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

Chapter Nine

She didn’t look that bad, Calista decided. The impeccable white shirt she snagged from a row of pristine shirts fitted her like a dress. A chic dress. And after donning her thigh-high boots again, she was sure she made the look work… whatever that look was. Who cared?

Her primary objective had been to get into close proximity to them and then change it to a forced proximity, so they would have no other option but to listen to her. Mission accomplished.

Yes, it was a pity she couldn’t complete her plot of vengeance in her latex catsuit, but she’d been on the verge of passing out, and that meant ultimate failure. She didn’t come this far to fail, and a wardrobe malfunction would be the last thing that broke her meticulous plans.

Every revenge plan had a hiccup. The important thing was pivoting when it mattered, which she had.

Time for her pièce de résistance, and wasn’t revenge a dish best served cold? Yes, yes, it was. She’s waited long enough for them to get their comeuppance for abandoning her.

Injecting confident swagger into her demeanor, she walked back into the bedroom to find her three prisoners still seated and handcuffed to their chairs.

She didn’t know why, but for a split second all she registered was surprise that they hadn’t gotten themselves loose already. Of course, they couldn’t. She had the key that opened all three handcuffs tucked safely in the pocket of the shirt, together with the three strips of silk.

No, she knew why she was surprised to find them exactly where she left them. It meant she’d outsmarted the legendary Bradford Evans, Reece Fischer, and Zachariah Smith.

Take that, busters.

Even though she was wearing one of their shirts, because her suit didn’t stand the test of time, she still channeled her KittyHotStuff69 character and faced the men who consumed her entire adult life as if they owned her.

“I’m back. Now where was I? Oh, yes. It’s me. It’s Calista Ann Saunders, my dudes.” My dudes ? Okay, that came out of nowhere and certainly did not apply to the men before her. They were the epitome of sophistication and suaveness, with prowess that came with age and experience. She hadn’t realized, but for every guy her age that asked her out, she’d subconsciously compared them to Bradford, Reece, and Zachariah and then said no.

Which only made her more annoyed at them. It wasn’t because she wanted every guy to be as confident, as lazily arrogant with a glint of danger and a truckload of power. No, not at all. She wanted to date guys her age. She wanted to get married and have lots of babies. But the reason she compared every other male on the planet to them was simple. She had unfinished business. And she was here to end it all with them, so she could move on.

“Calista Ann Saunders,” she repeated. “Remember me? Hank Saunders’ daughter.”

“We don’t know what you’re up to, but we will give you one chance to unlock these cuffs.” The sound of Bradford’s voice, deep, dark, dangerous, husky but rough, seemed to melt her brain cells and startle her clit. What the freaking hell was happening to her?

"Shh,” she said, placing her finger on Bradford’s lips, still quivering at hearing him speak. She had to get a grip. Now was not the time to come undone. With her finger still on his lips while he looked at her with such intense darkness in his gaze, she used her other hand and retrieved one of the black silk bands in the pocket of the shirt.

“You don’t get to talk,” she still, a little more recovered. “Not right now. Not until I say everything I want to say with zero interruptions.” Thank goodness she was back. She then proceeded to gag Bradford with the ribbon, forcing it between his parted lips and tying it at the back of his head.

“Fuck,” Zachariah said as she did the same to Reece, and then it was his turn. “You sure you want to do this?”

Oh god. No. No. No. She couldn’t allow herself to become unglued again.

“Five years worth of absolutely sure, yes,” she said cheekily and very quickly gagged Zachariah before he could say anything else and mess with nerves again. And her nipples. It meant nothing, she assured herself.

“Now,” she said, standing in front of them once more. “Need me to jog your memory even more. Hank was your best friend. He loved you three. He adored you. He thought of you as his brothers. He never stopped talking about you. He admired you. He was in awe of you. And what did you do? You forgot about him—”

Reece muttered something, shaking his head in denial.

“But you did,” Calista said, cutting him off, her tone reaching an emotional breaking point. “He asked you to look out for me. He begged you. I was there in the hospital room with you. I heard him. But you know what? I was nineteen years old. I didn’t need to be taken care of. I didn’t need babysitting.

“I just needed to be close to my dad’s best friends. That’s all. I know you’re busy making your billions of dollars and things, but I would have settled for a lunch a year even. One lunch date.” She held up her index finger. “Just one hour a year,” she added, waving her finger around now.

“Would it have killed you to sit with me over a burger and tell me stories about my dad when he was young? Would it have killed you to do that?” Not waiting for an answer, because well, they couldn’t answer her intelligibly and she wasn’t interested in flimsy excuses, so she dove right back in.

“But oh, you didn’t just discard me. Oh no. You tried to pay me off, or shut me up, I guess, by putting ten million dollars into my bank account. I suppose you thought that exonerated you? That I would be so thrilled with the money and just go away." She paused for effect, running her fingers through her hair. “Newsflash, I’m still here.”