Chapter 5 Jace
JACE
A vision of perfection lay before me, her lean body a masterpiece, wrapped in a gray pencil skirt and crisp white blouse. As she propped herself up on her elbows, the fabric strained tantalizingly across her breasts, and a single button clung for dear life, threatening to break.
A cascade of shiny blonde waves with a hint of strawberry framed her face, catching the light like champagne bubbles.
But it was her green eyes that truly ensnared me, those deep pools of stunning mystery that locked on to mine with an intensity that stole my breath.
She was a siren’s call made flesh, and I was helplessly, hopelessly drawn to her.
As the bar around us ceased to exist, I extended my hand, eager to feel her supple skin against my own.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
Her beautiful lips—lips I could imagine kissing me all over my body—parted slightly.
“I fell down.”
Her voice hit me like aged whiskey: smooth, intoxicating, and guaranteed to make me do something impulsive. A blush crept across her cheeks, and I found myself wondering how far down that blush went.
When her hand slipped into mine, every cell in my body snapped to attention. The gentleman in me wanted to buy her a drink, learn her story. The devil on my shoulder had other ideas, involving that bar top and significantly less clothing. Both sides agreed on one thing: I needed more of her.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
Neither was I, and now I can’t look anywhere else.
I didn’t date women for good reason. The moment they discovered my last name, dollar signs would appear over their eyes.
Us four Lockwood brothers were wealthy through inheritance before we started our ventures, and while many people didn’t know my face, my name echoed through Chicago like a drumbeat.
I’d lost count of how many times I’d watched genuine smiles turn predatory the moment women connected the dots.
It was always the same dance: their laugh would get a little louder, their touch a little longer, their eyes a little sharper.
And then I never knew if they were interested in me or my prestige.
In fairness, I probably hadn’t met the right women.
Plenty of women, I would argue, didn’t care about things like wealth, but that wasn’t the point.
The point was, I’d given up on dating, but now, that rule seemed as absurd as it was impossible.
Instantly, I wanted to know everything about this woman.
Her name. Her story. The taste of her lips. The sound of her in bed when I—
A gust of air blew the tendrils of her hair slightly, sending a piece of paper dancing between us that she’d been holding when we crashed into each other. I picked it up because, apparently, I was now the kind of man who chased windblown trash just because it belonged to her.
But what I read made my insides flutter with amusement:
REVENGE LIST
Well, well. Maybe she wasn’t the angel she appeared to be. And maybe, just maybe, that made her even more irresistible.