A Desire for Revenge Read online

  A Desire For Revenge

  by Sophie Newsome

  Kindle Edition

  First Published November 2012

  Copyright Sophie Newsome

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means, without express written permission from Sophie Newsome. All characters and situations are fictional and any resemblance to real people or situations is entirely coincidental.

  ALSO AVAILABLE BY SOPHIE NEWSOME

  The Desire For Revenge Series

  A Desire For Revenge (book 1)

  Bodies in Motion (book 2)

  Alone Again Together (book 3)

  The Death of a Good Man (book 4)

  The Bound to a Billionaire Series

  Bound to a Billionaire (book 1)

  The Billionaire's Wife (book 2)

  Seduced by the Billionaire's Brother (book 3)

  When Billionaires Collide (book 4)

  Honeymoon in Italy (book 5)

  The Billionaire and the Ghost (book 6)

  The Billionaire's Revenge (book 7)

  Escape From the Billionaire (book 8)

  The Accidentally... a Prostitute Series

  Accidentally... a Prostitute (book 1)

  Weekend in Vegas (book 2)

  Also Available

  Starstruck

  Prologue

  Ten years ago.

  "Hey," I say, knocking on Duncan's bedroom door. "You in there?"

  There's no response, but I know he's home. I decide to wait; standing there in my zombie outfit, already for a Halloween night out, I figure I have nothing to lose. I'm planning to go to this huge party, and I still harbor some hope of persuading Duncan to come with me. He's not really the party type, of course, but I figure it's worth a try. For the past two years, Duncan and I have been best friends but for some reason we've never actually kissed or taken things any further. I've hung on, hoping he might eventually make a move, but lately I've begun to lose hope. I've told myself that if nothing happens tonight, I'm just going to give up on him.

  "Duncan!" I shout, banging on his door again. "Get your ass out here!"

  Suddenly the door opens and I'm faced with a sleepy Duncan. He rubs his eyes. "Hey Amy. What time is it?" he asks.

  "It's seven o'clock," I tell him as I detect the familiar herbal smell coming from his room. "In the evening. Were you asleep?"

  "Just taking a nap," he replies, seeming half awake. "What's going on?"

  "We're going to that party up on the headland," I remind him. I've been telling him about this party for weeks, hoping that eventually he might agree to come with us. "Come on, it'll be fun".

  "I think I'm just gonna stay in," he says. "Jon's coming over in a bit".

  I sigh. Whenever Jon comes over, he and Duncan spend the entire evening smoking and getting stoned. I'm sure it's fun for them, but it's not much fun for the rest of us. Duncan's been my best friend for the whole duration of our time at college, but I'm starting to wonder what's wrong with him. He just seems to want to slouch about at home rather than coming out an having fun. "Come on," I say, "please, Duncan. Let's just go out for one night". I reach out to grab his hand, but he pulls away.

  "No," he says. "I'm good".

  "Andy's coming," I say, hoping to maybe drive Duncan a little jealous. Andy's this guy from our course who's been hitting on me for months. Although he's hot, I've resisted his approaches so far, since I'm still clinging onto this hope that eventually Duncan and I might get together.

  "Just have fun, yeah?" Duncan replies, yawning. "I'm going back to bed". With that, he shuts his bedroom door.

  "Fuck you," I say quietly. Damn it, I'm sick of the way Duncan treats me. I've been waiting and waiting for him to kiss me, and finally I'm starting to realize his reluctance isn't due to shyness; the truth is, he's just not interested in me. Sighing again, I turn and head back downstairs. Laura and my other friends are waiting, and Andy comes over as soon as I enter the room.

  "You ready?" he asks.

  "Yeah," I reply. My heart isn't really in tonight, but I'm determined not to let Duncan's laziness ruin Halloween. I don't particularly like Andy, but at least he's interested in me. I figure I might as well just get drunk and get Andy into bed. I've waited so long for Duncan to show me that he gives a damn, but now it's becoming obvious that he'd rather just slouch around at home. It's time for me to forget about Duncan and move on with my life.

  "You look great," Andy says.

  "Thanks," I reply, smiling like an embarrassed schoolgirl. Fuck Duncan. Fuck him forever. I've given him plenty of chances to make a move, and he's done nothing. All that's left for me to do now is to move on with my life. Andy might be an annoying asshole, but right now I just want to get laid. As Laura turns the music up, I put my arms around Dave and lean closer to kiss him. It's a wet, soggy kiss, but it'll do.

  Fuck Duncan. Fuck Duncan forever. He's missed his chance; I'm better off without him anyway. He's a waste of space. I can't wait for someone who's only ambition is to smoke every day. I've just got to accept that he's never going to change, and get on with my own life.

  One

  Today.

  "Hey," I say, wedging my phone between my cheek and shoulder as I struggle along the road outside London's Victoria train station. It's not a good look, but I'm on my way from one business meeting to another and I really don't have time to chat with Laura right now. "Can I call you back?" I ask, trying not to drop the various folders and files I'm carrying.

  "I guess," she replies, sounding so calm compared to my panicky, stress-filled day. "But I really only called to tell you one thing".

  "Is it important?" I ask.

  "I think so," she says. She sounds thoughtful, as if she's giving the matter some serious consideration. Laura's always been a little vague. It's endearing most of the time, but right now I don't really have time. "I mean, yeah, I think it's something that'll interest you".

  "Spill," I say as I stop by some traffic lights. Cars speed past and I look across at the little red sign that's telling me not to walk. Laura tends to have her head in the clouds most of the time, and I don't have time for her to take the circuitous route to whatever it is she wants to tell me.

  "So..." she says, sounding a little uncomfortable, "right, okay... I saw Duncan".

  The lights change and I hurry across the road, pausing for a moment in the middle as a red bus flashes past. "You saw who?" I ask as I finally reach the safety of the pavement outside the coffee shop. I rearrange the files and folders and take the phone in my hand, pressing it against my ear in an attempt to hear Laura better over the sound of roaring traffic. "I can't hear you very well".

  "Duncan," she says. "I saw Duncan today. The Duncan".

  Suddenly it feels as if someone has punched me in the chest. The whole city seems to go quiet, and I stand rooted to the spot as people continue to hustle and bustle past me. I know I should say something, but my mind is spinning. There's no reason why Duncan's name should provoke this reaction in me. No reason at all. Absolutely, definitely, positively no reason. But this is a physical response; my body is almost in shock, and all I can do is tell myself not to panic.

  "Amy?" Laura says, her voice suddenly cutting through the silence and bringing me back to reality. "Did you hear what I said?"

  "Yeah," I reply, swallowing hard. "You saw Duncan. How... how was he?"

  "Different," she says. "Fuck it, I don't know if you'd even recognize him these days. How long's it been since the last time you saw him?"

  Too long, I think to myself. I still remember the day, about ten years ago, when we met up for a drink in Hammersmith. It was just an ordinary afternoon, nothing special,
and we chatted for an hour during my lunch break. I hadn't seen Duncan for a few months, which seemed like an eternity back then, and he seemed a little different. I couldn't put my finger on it at the time, but I felt like there was something he wanted to say but couldn't. Eventually we walked together to the Tube station and hugged briefly before he left. I knew something was wrong. Two weeks later, I found out he'd moved to Hong Kong to work as an English-language teacher. I guess that hug was his way of saying goodbye.

  "What?" I stammer, struggling to get my thoughts in order. I know Laura said something, but I'm having trouble focusing. "What did you ask?"

  "When was the last time you saw him?" she says.

  "I'm not sure," I reply. "A while ago. I've just been so busy, it's insane".

  "He's been in Hong Kong," she says helpfully.

  "Yeah, I know that," I say. "Weird. I guess I should... call him or something. See how he's doing".

  "I can't believe you two haven't met up already," Laura replies. "Everything's okay, right? You're still friends, aren't you?"

  "Of course," I say quickly. "Why wouldn't we be?"

  "Dunno," she says. "How would I know what's going on in your life? It's not like I actually see you much these days". I can tell by the tone of her voice that she's joking, of course, but at the same time I guess there's a hint of truth about what she just said. I've been so busy with my new job, I've neglected Laura and my other friends. "Besides," she continues, "there was something weird about how he reacted when I mentioned you".

  "Weird?" I ask. "Weird how?"

  "Like..." She pauses. "I dunno. Just like... not normal, you know? Like he kind of tensed up a little when I said your name. It's probably nothing, but I just noticed it".

  "I don't know why he'd be like that," I say. "I haven't spoken to him for ages, but we're still..." My voice trails off for a moment. Suddenly I check my watch and see that I've only got five minutes to get to Chester Street, which would usually be a fifteen minute walk. "I haven't got time to stand around chatting," I say. "I'll speak to you soon, okay?"

  "Do you want me to give him your number?" she asks.

  "What?"

  "He hasn't got your phone number. I told him I'd give it to him, but I said I'd better check with you first".

  "Check with me why?" I ask, trying to hide my annoyance at the way Laura is complicating every single step in this saga. "Give him my number. It's fine. I don't care".

  "Okay," she says. "Wicked".

  "I've got to go," I say. "I'll call you soon". Without waiting for her to reply, I disconnect the call and put the phone away, before double-checking that I've got a good grip on my files. After walking a few paces, I realize that I'm going to have to move a lot faster, so I break into a run. The last thing I need right now is to turn up late for yet another meeting, especially when we've been warned it's important. I can worry about Duncan later. Right now, I just need to make sure I'm not distracted. Damn it, why did this have to happen today? Running as fast as I can, I suddenly trip on the corner of a paving stone, which sends me tumbling to the ground. I land on my left knee, which scrapes painfully along the coarse pavement. I can feel the skin breaking.

  "Fuck!" I say, grimacing as I get to my feet. Looking down at my legs, I see that my left knee has been bloodily grazed. It's nothing that needs stitches, but it stings like crazy as I gently brush small pieces of dirt from the wound. Once I'm done, I find that there are small specks of blood on my fingers but I figure no-one'll notice. Gathering up my folders and files, I limp along the road. It's weird, but despite my very public accident, no-one stops to ask if I'm okay. I guess that's just the kind of city I live in.

  Finally I get to Chester Street. Still limping, I make my way into the office building and quickly grab an elevator up to the fourth floor. As the doors open and I step out, I'm immediately confronted with an angry, pacing Nigel Armstrong. Armstrong and I have been working together for a while now. He's quite possibly the most annoying man I've ever met, a trumped-up whiner with a nasal voice.

  "Am I late?" I ask.

  "Everyone's late," he replies. "Everything's running late".

  "You okay?" I say as I drop my files on the desk. There's something different about Armstrong today; he seemed on edge and worried.

  "There's rumors," he says. "Big shake-up coming".

  "Great," I reply, "that's all we need". I sit down and take a look at my injured knee.

  "What happened?" Armstrong asks.

  "Nothing," I reply. "Just Duncan".

  "Who's Duncan?"

  Suddenly I realize what I said. "No-one," I say quickly. "Did I say Duncan? I just tripped, that's all".

  "You want to get that looked at," he says.

  "I'm fine," I reply. "It's not worth making a fuss".

  "We should get in there," he says dourly, turning and walking to the door. He glances back at me. "If they're cutting the numbers, I want to make a good impression".

  "What do you mean, cutting the numbers?" I say, suddenly realizing that I don't properly understand why this meeting has been called or what it's about. I get to my feet and limp over to the door.

  "There's a rumor going around that the company's been bought out by a foreign firm," he replies. "If it's true, you know what it means. Cost-cutting. Efficiency drives. The fat being cut away, and we might be the fat".

  "Speak for yourself," I reply.

  "Try not to limp when we get in there," he says. "It indicates weakness".

  As I'm trying to deal with the bombshell news that we might have new owners, Armstrong pushes the door open and we step into the conference room. Half a dozen other of our colleagues are standing around, chatting urgently and quietly. It's pretty obvious that something strange is going on here, and everyone seems nervous.

  "Any news?" Armstrong asks one of the guys standing nearby.

  "Apparently we're going to meet the new owner this morning," he says. He looks worried. No, he looks more than worried. He looks like a man who's about to be sent to the gallows. The company has been bumping along with decent profits despite the recession, but a new owner could really shake things up. Everyone knows that our jobs are on the line.

  "What happened to your knee?" one of the other guys asks.

  "Nothing," I say, looking down and seeing a single bead of blood dribbling down to my ankle. "Shit!" I say, kneeling down and checking the graze. Someone passes me a paper tissue and I carefully wipe the blood away. I'm so busy doing this, I don't really notice the sound of a door opening nearby; moments later, I suddenly realize that the nervous chatter in the room has died down and everyone has fallen silent.

  "Ladies and gentlemen," says Mr. Foster, one of the company's owners. "I know there have been some rumors going around this morning, and I'd like to address those rumors once and for all. I'm delighted to be able to tell you that the rumors are indeed true".

  I tuck the blooded tissue paper into my pocket and get to my feet, turning to face Foster.

  "First of all," he continues, "I'd like to ask you all to join me in welcoming the new owner of Foster & Mortleby Marketing. You've all known that a deal was possibly in the pipeline for quite some time, and I'm delighted to say that we have secured a deal that I believe will help this company make the next step in its development. We can't remain a provincial little company tucked away in this corner of London forever. We have to move with the time and embrace the prevailing trend of the age, which I'm afraid is globalization". He pauses for a moment. This must be so painful for him, having built up the company for so many years only to see it bought out by foreign owners. "Allow me to introduce, from the HK Simonds and Dunleavy Development Fund in Hong Kong, Mr. Duncan Blake".

  Before I have a chance to really process what Foster just said, a man walks into the room and all my colleagues start clapping. Like a dumb sheep, I join in with the round of applause. That name, Duncan Blake... I want to believe that it's a coincidence, but it can't be. I stare at the well-dressed, dark-haired man who
just entered the room. It can't be Duncan, can it? Not my Duncan? But after a moment, I realize that it is him. He might look like a cool, sophisticated businessman, but it's definitely still him. After all these years...

  Suddenly I realize I'm the only one still clapping. I quickly stop, but it's too late. Everyone's noticed my faux pas. And Duncan is smiling straight at me. As I stare at him, shocked to see him again after nearly a decade apart, I realize that he's not shocked to see me at all. In fact, I can see from the look in his eyes that he's been expecting me...

  Two

  The anti-bacterial solution stings as I squeeze a couple of drops onto my gashed knee. Sitting on the edge of the toilet seat, locked into a cubicle in the ladies' bathroom, I try to focus on my injury rather than on all the other thoughts rushing through my head. There's still some dirt in the wound, which I dab at with a piece of toilet paper. I know this is going to sound strange, but the slight pain from the gash is kind of comforting right now. It gives me something else to think about, something to focus on other than the confused fog that seems to have filled my mind.

  It's been ten minutes since the meeting ended. Foster dodged any questions about redundancies, but it was pretty obvious that there'll be bad news for some of us soon. Duncan, meanwhile, barely said a word. He introduced himself briefly but, for the most part, he restricted himself to a few bland platitudes. He didn't look at me very often, even though my eyes were fixed on him the whole time. He was still recognizably Duncan, with the same eyes, the same smile, the same nuances in his voice, but everything else about him had changed since our last meeting. Gone were the slacker clothes, the t-shirts, the scruffy hair, the impression of general aimlessness; instead, he looked smart and businesslike, with a neat haircut and neat, well-fitted suit clinging to his form. Above all else, he was hot. Seriously, unforgettably hot. And then, as suddenly as he arrived, he was gone. The meeting ended and Duncan disappeared into one of the back rooms, apparently not thinking it was worth coming over to greet me personally.