Bought for Revenge

AT LAST WE MEET AGAIN (Present Day)

“Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand, Blood and revenge are hammering in my head.” – William Shakespeare

PRESENT DAY

For a couple of protracted moments, they just stared at each other, suspended in time. It was as if their past, present and future collided. Trapped in the moment, Miranda used the opportunity to take in every detail of Ranveer. He had apparently amplified his workout regimen over the years, because he was really buff… huge… massive.

He’d always been muscular but he’d tended to be on the leaner side of the scale. This was different. He was easily three times the size he was when Miranda dated him. Now there was not even an ounce of fat on his body. There was no indication that there was anything but muscles and skin underneath the tux he wore; a well-tailored tux that beautifully outlined his masculine physique. His straight black hair was cut much shorter than it had been when they had been together, and his beard was gone. But his jaw was just as angular, and his distinctive hazel eyes were just as flinty as she’d remembered. Those, paired with the semi-permanent scowl he’d always worn on his face, told her exactly who she was staring at in person for the first time in fifteen years. A person she’d hoped to never lay eyes on again in her life. The last person she had expected to see at the charity gala.

Back when she’d first spotted him in the building that housed both the faculty of Social Sciences and the School of Education, she’d thought he was the cutest guy she’d ever seen. He’d had a smug look on his dumb playboy face as he flirted with the female students. He had been stumped when he turned his charms on her and she’d rebuffed them.

But it was all a ruse. Miranda had been smitten with him from the start, but had refused to fall in line and be another notch on his bedpost. So she’d pretended to be unaffected by his legendary charms. He’d seen it as a challenge, cleaned his act up, got serious about his studies and his life, then pursued her.

Miranda had tried to play hard to get, but that had only lasted for the first few weeks. She had eventually given in, she could only hold out for so long.

After their first date, they’d expressed a mutual interest in each other and became exclusive. They were each other’s first serious relationship.

That marked the beginning of the end for them. They had a flame that burned bright and fast, but eventually had to cool.

Ranveer had a jealous streak. He hated when other guys flirted with her, even though she’d never disrespected him by flirting back. She’d loved him. She’d felt flattered by his possessiveness and she’d found his perpetual scowl for any guy looking at her endearing.

She’d taken pride in every smile or laugh she got from him. It felt like a personal accomplishment. Miranda honestly believed she had been put on this Earth to make him smile.

But now outside, in the hallway of the Pegasus Hotel’s ballroom, his scowl was far from endearing. It felt dangerous, like she was a doe caught in the angry gaze of a very large hungry lion.

One word formed in her head, distinctive and clear: Run!

RUN.

Her brain sent the signal, but her body failed to react.

It took tremendous strength for her to convince her body that it was overreacting and she was not in immediate danger.

Schooling her face into the best look of nonchalance she could muster under the circumstances, she cut left and tried to oh-so-

casually walked away, like she did not recognize him, like she had no idea who this Indo-Guyanese man staring her down in the hallway was. She tried to ignore the instant recognition that was on his face. She tried and failed to convince herself that it had been fifteen years… FIFTEEN YEARS! There was no way… NO WAY he would still remember her.

Even if he did remember her, he’d probably let her get away, she reasoned. After all, he was a very important billionaire with probably a billion different things to do rather than reconnect with an old girlfriend who was just a child advocate from East Canje, Berbice. With the way time had aged her, he’d probably be embarrassed to even admit he’d ever dated her, once upon a time. As far as he’d gone in his career, he probably thanked his fairy godmother every night he had dodged the Monique-shaped bullet—

Pep talk complete, Miranda finally convinced her body to move.

She hadn’t made it three steps before he was on her, unraveling the world she had systematically built for herself these past fifteen years.

“Monique,” he said.

She wasn’t sure if it was a statement or a question. She chose to assume it was the latter.

“I’m sorry. You must have me mistaken for someone else. My name is not Monique.” Though she was shaking inside, her voice sounded firm and assured. She was proud of herself. All the years of remaining emotionally distant were finally paying off. Keeping her fingers crossed, she prayed he bought her bluff.

“Monique, stop playing games,” he commanded.

Well, so much for that wasted prayer, she thought. Still, she was not one to give up easily.

“Sir,” she began in her mother-in-charge-toned voice she'd perfected over the years that never failed to keep her son in line. “As I’ve said, my name is not Monique. If you must know, it’s Miranda... Miranda Cummings,” she stated firmly, squaring her shoulders.

With that said, she attempted to walk past him once more. That was a big mistake.

Ranveer grabbed her arm and, in three brisk strides, had her body pressed against the wall where she’d just been texting Raphael, her arms pinned above her head. She could feel his erection against her stomach even as his eyes scanned her face with furious efficiency, as if he was trying to decipher her reason for the deception.

At first she kept her own eyes adverted and to the side, less she gave away her emotions. He had always been adept at reading her. Also, some primal instinct told her this was the best way to avoid enraging him further, like playing dead with a bear.

But she wasn’t sure what to do to avoid the s****l tension between them. It was so thick and potent; it was as if they hadn’t been apart these last fifteen years.

She could feel his hot breath on her face. He was so close and yet so far away. In the end, she couldn’t resist taking just one tiny little peek at him. The suspense was killing her. But almost as soon as her eyes met his, she was locked in, trapped in angry lustful flecks of brown.

She couldn’t look away, even when he crashed his mouth down onto hers, swallowing any protest she might have made, and enveloping her in a stormy cloud of hot angry lust.