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But not on my watch.

Sitting at my kitchen table, I have my notepad, my phone, and a whole lot of rage to guide me through my vengeance. And vengeance it will be. Not only for Darling Rose but also because they had no right making my body do those weird things.

They're messing with my plans to live to ninety as an unmarried woman, just like my favorite Aunt Louise. No fuss. No problems. Just freedom. She too has the Langley curse on her and refused to let it beat her. I'm going to be just like her.

Back to the matter at hand. I need to soft-launch my reign of terror on them. Just enough to niggle the heck out of them before I raise the bar. And then raise the bar again and again. One of us is going to crack first, and it's not going to be me.

How to irritate three billionaires?

Step one...

I start writing, and the more I do, the more elaborate my plans become. Oh my gosh, am I really this maniacal? Or just diabolical? Who cares. I'm trying to save our small town from their greedy hands, which are huge and would feel like fire on my skin if they touched me. Nope. Scratch that.

There's a benefit to being the secret daughter of an ex-billionaire. I get to use all my father's contacts to get what I want. Ever since I moved out of the limelight, before my father lost all his money—not that I ever was in the limelight to begin with—but ever since I turned twenty-four and it came time for me to endure my traditional family duties, I decided to emancipate myself, moved out of my childhood mansion, came to Darling Rose, and built an entirely different life.

I took my mother's maiden name as my own. I just wanted to be Tia, the cupcake baker, not defined by my father's previous vast wealth, of which he has nothing to show for now. And that's what I did. I love my life now. Everything is perfect, except for these three damn property billionaires. They might not be erecting an unsightly space-age shopping mall on Darling Rose's land, but a rare mineral plant is just as ugly.

An hour later, I've executed everything on my list of things to do. Kamilia again offered to run the bakery herself today, understanding I needed some quiet time to become a supervillain, so at least I don't have to worry about the bakery itself.

The thing about revenge: they need to know who it's coming from. And what better segue into my madness than me eating off their faces in their boardroom right in front of them? Also, there'll be signs. Lots of signs.

I was incredibly productive today, but I can definitely turn it up a notch tomorrow. What else can I do to them that would have them pulling out their hair?

I think hard about it while mindlessly lathering myself up and scrubbing at my skin until I start to tingle all over.

My brain runs through an array of strategies, but they're all too elaborate and impossible to pull off. I just need a little extra time. I'll sleep on it; that's always helped me when I need problem-solving help.

Once I step out of the shower, I spread copious amounts of body oil onto my wet skin, vigorously rubbing in scented essence until it semi-absorbs into my skin. I wrap myself in a towel, then brush my teeth and my hair.

Oh, some chamomile tea will help me fall asleep quicker. I slip out of my bathroom into my bedroom and stop dead in my tracks. Am I dreaming? Already? No, I'm hallucinating. The three property billionaires have been on my mind 24/7, so it figures I would conjure them out of thin air into their exact likenesses right in my bedroom.

Chapter Seven

Tia

Ugh. The sooner I defeat them and send them on their way, out of my mind the happier I’ll be.

Right, about that tea. Still in my towel, I strode toward the door, annoyed that even my scent memory of them is so strong it’s as if they’re really in my bedroom with Brandon sitting on the chair in the corner of my room, his long legs spread wide, the expensive fabric of his suit accentuating his lean, powerful thigh muscles. Joel sitting on the edge of my bed, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, his fingers linked.

Rex is on the other side, closest to the door, his head tilted as he examines the books arranged carefully and color-coded on an antique bookshelf I got secondhand. They’re all my favorite romance novels. I have no plans to fall in love or get married or have babies, but that doesn’t stop me from experiencing it vicariously through all the wonderful characters of these novels.

I shake my head to dislodge the images of them in my bedroom out of my head, tighten my towel before it falls off me, and head to my kitchen.

But then the craziest thing happens. A strong arm curls around my stomach—Rex’s arm to be precise—and stops me from leaving my bedroom.

“Leaving so soon,” he asks softly in my ear before he tosses me over his shoulder. Of course this makes me kick and shout like a banshee because how are my hallucinations active and talking?

I’m still reeling from the fact that they are actually in person in my bedroom, and I forget to pay attention to what is actually happening to me.

Oh no. No. Nope. What?

Without so much as breaking a sweat, Brandon lifts my window bench away from my window and places it smack in the middle of the bedroom. As effortless as if he were flicking a feather around with his fingers, Rex has me kneeling on all fours on the bench now, while Joel, who had already removed his belt, grasps my wrists and binds them together under the bench so that I’m kind of hugging the bench itself.

Behind me, Brandon and Rex remove their ties and restrain each of my ankles to the foot of the bench. I can’t believe I’m in this position.

And worse, my towel is basically just draped over my back, covering my nakedness.

“Wait—” I cry.