Page 39 of Beautiful Revenge

I’m the least comfortable I’ve been in a long time, and that’s saying a lot since I faked it with Albert Humphries for far too long. “I have no desire to get comfortable. Say what you want and give me my keys. I’m packed and ready to go.”

Devon relaxes back in his office chair. It’s the color of nubuck leather, the kind that gets better with age. Since I spent hours last night researching the man currently holding my new car hostage, I can attest the chair is very much like its owner.

I’m not sure if it’s being with this man in the flesh or if the pictures didn’t do him justice, but the years have been good to Devon. Seeing him this morning, I realize he’s one of those men that it doesn’t matter if he wears custom suits orlinen trousers. He’d be equally beautiful lounging in the Mediterranean as he would in the wild west.

He’d look good wearing anything.

Or, after poking him in the chest last night, probably nothing at all.

Shit.

I need to focus.

Get my car, escape, and never, ever return to The Manor at Winslet.

I notice a keychain with two fobs sitting on a thick black envelope front and center on his desk.

Devon pulls my attention away from my target when he curtly starts the conversation he’s so determined to have. “There’s something to know about me. I say what I need to say and don’t give a shit about how I say it. My mum and sister have been on my arse for years to fix that. I’ve never seen the need.”

That is not what I was expecting.

I cross my arms. “That sounds like a personal problem.”

“The women in my family would agree with you.”

“It’s never too late to change, even at your age.” It’s a cheap jab, but I haven’t had coffee, and my mood is tapping out on the side of edgy. I can muster up manners for Felicity, but not Devon.

He proves my jab is nothing more than a tickle if his smirk has anything to say about it.

“Yes, even atmy age,” he drawls but doesn’t lose the smirk. He also randomly changes the subject. “Have you eaten?”

“No. I’ll stop on the road ... when I’m in my car.”

As if he could sense my urge to leap across his desk to grab my keys and title, followed by a mad dash back to his suite to collect more luggage than I have hands for, and finally race out to find my car since he probably hid it in some remote building on his property, he picks up the keyring and swings it around his finger. “Yes, your car. A Jag. I didn’t see you going for the color black. I pictured you in red.”

“That’s how little you know me. I’d never drive a red car. I spend my life trying not to be seen. Plus, I had no idea what color it was. My assistant bought what was available.”

I’m not sure what’s more distracting—him flippingmy keyring around his strong, thick index finger or the veins disappearing up the sleeve of his shirt on his corded forearm.

Sarcasm bleeds through his tone. “Yes, the F-Type convertible. An obvious choice for those who don’t want to be seen.”

“You should really take your mother and sister’s advice and edit your words before they leave your mouth. I don’t even know them, and I like your family more than I like you.”

“Everyone does.” He says it like it’s an undisputed fact—like the earth is round or thatFriendscould have gone on forever and only gotten better. “That’s not what I want to talk about. If you don’t want me to order you coffee or breakfast, have a seat.”

“I’m not interested enough in anything you have to say to get comfortable.”

He shakes his head and fists my keys after one last circle around his finger. “Fine. I’ll get to it. I did not look into your father because I wanted to trap you or report you. Hell, the last thing I thought I’d find is that you were the one who took him.”

“Then why did you do it?”

He shrugs a lazy shoulder. “I’m not going to blow smoke up your arse and tell you it was purely selfless. Part of it was, but not all of it.”

“Why do you care about where my father is?”

“I don’t care, per se. I did find it interesting that your stepmum went apeshit when she found out—but not from worry. And you weren’t concerned in the slightest.”

“You witnessed a private moment without knowing anything about the dynamics of my family. Newsflash, Mr. Donnelly, what you see in public is not reality.”