Blood Lust by MrDelicacy

His Trophy Wife, The Apex Predator

Eydie Pfefferle

My husband of three years, Arthur Vanderbilt, came home smelling of his mistress's perfume and threw divorce papers on our marble kitchen island. He demanded I sign away all rights to our assets for a five-million-dollar "severance," calling me a leech his family picked up from the suburbs to solve a temporary PR crisis. When I refused and demanded my four percent equity in the Vanderbilt Group, he and his mistress, Serena, launched a vicious smear campaign. They planted false stories on Wall Street forums, accusing me of laundering money for an Eastern European crime syndicate. They tried to force my hand with a check for five hundred million, which I tore up and threw in his face. To them, I was just a trophy wife they could easily discard. They had no idea that the "leech" they so despised was the anonymous investor who had secretly bailed out their entire company three years ago, saving them from bankruptcy. Their final move was to hire an actress to publicly accuse me of fraud in the lobby of the most powerful law firm in Manhattan. They didn't realize I was there to retain the firm's most ruthless lawyer. After security threw them out, I looked my replacement in the eye and made her a promise. "Prepare for an FBI probe into perjury and corporate defamation."

Modern Revenge

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prologue

I just woke up because of the fragrant smell of flowers. I love the smell of flowers. Feels good.

If only I could just sleep like this without thinking about classes, assignments, or boring recitations. Damn, but I know at any moment my grandmother will wake me up to go to my beautiful university.

Please, I need 5 more minutes.

I don't want to open my eyes yet. I need to sleep more; I want to feel the softness of this bed. I want to feel the warmth of this comforter. I wrapped myself in it even more. What if I'm absent? Even now.

I even dressed myself in fetus style. Why is it too cold today? It's too lazy to get up when the climate is this cold.

"Claret..." I ignored the call to my name. Please let me sleep.

"Claret.." damn it. I quickly grabbed the first one near me and put it over my ear.

"Claret.." I woke up violently when I heard my name again from the unfamiliar male voice. Who is this man calling me?

I remained motionless. What is the man doing in my room? Where is Grandma? I'm starting to get nervous; having a man in my room is a huge sin. My grandmother would surely burn me alive.

But what I noticed almost made me stumble. What the hell? This is not my bed! How did I get here? Damn, I cannot remember anything. Did I drink last night? What the hell is happening?

"Come on

"Claret, stop that act." Why does this man know me? Acts?!

I just screamed when, suddenly, the thick comforter that was hiding me was pulled away. I quickly sat up and backed up to the headrest of the bed. And my eyes almost widen from what I see.

I'm in a strange room with this gorgeous stranger. Who the hell is he? Why the hell am I here? I'm just sitting on a red bed full of white rose petals. What's with this setting?

And I looked down on me, sh*t! I don't even own this dress! I'm wearing a silk black dress, and I can vividly see my body in this thin kind of dress! Has something happened to us? I automatically covered myself to hide whatever was leaking from this thin dress. Who dressed me?

Who the fuck is he?

The moment our eyes met, I couldn't help but swallow a few times. damn

He's too beautiful and damn topless. What am I doing in this room with him? How did I end up in this room and wake up dressed like this?

He now sits in front of me like a king as he gently sips red wine. He has this intense eye on me that I can't explain. My chest was beating faster at the way he was looking at me. He looked familiar, as if this was not our first meeting.

"Why am I here?" I asked him hesitantly. The last thing I remember is that my grandmother and I were still talking. Shit! I can't remember anything.

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