To Get Revenge on My Bully I Decided to Seduce Her Fiancé Chapter 05

To Get Revenge on My Bully I Decided to Seduce Her Fiancé Chapter 05

Sloane posted again.

This time, it wasn’t about showing off Harrison.

[Some women just can’t stop throwing themselves at taken men, can they? Just wait till I find out who you are.]

I leaned against the window, exhaled a plume of smoke, and smirked.

Looks like they fought.

Sloane had always been the one chasing him.

I’d gone through his old college blog all the way to his current profile.

Not a single mention of Sloane.

A relationship held up by one person was already fragile.

Add me into the mix, and it was falling apart.

Harrison hadn’t answered my question.

But we both knew what the silence meant.

Neither of us said another word that night.

We hastily packed up our rods and headed home early.

But I knew.

He wasn’t as calm as he looked.

I just didn’t know which way it would go.

He might not care about Sloane.

But the Covington and Sterlings had been close business partners for years, and this arranged marriage was no trivial matter.

He might like me right now.

But how much?

Enough to risk his whole business?

Sure enough, he texted me that same night.

[I’m not going fishing anymore. Sorry for bothering you these past few months.]

He meant it.

He never showed up again. I hit every lake and spot I knew, but he avoided me like the plague—like I was something he couldn’t bear to face.

Lucky was gone too.

I’d thought about taking him in, but I’d searched the whole surrounding area and there was no sign of him.

But his profile picture changed.

Now it was an orange tabby yawning on a carpet.

I zoomed in.

It was Lucky.

I smiled a little.

I knew it wasn’t over yet.

Two weeks later, I posted a photo with another guy, both of us holding up our catches.

Six feet one, tanned, with a black tank top stretched tight over his broad chest. His arm was slung over my shoulder, grinning wide and bright.

I’d hired him. A male model. Two thousand dollars a day.

Fishing is all about technique. Dumping bait in the water nonstop won’t get you a bite. You need to know how to reel them in right.

The next day, when I got to Lake Champlain, a shadow fell over me.

I looked up.

Harrison sat down in the chair next to me, face blank.

He pulled out his rod and cast his line without a word.

He hadn’t even put bait on the hook.

We sat in silence for a long time.

Finally, he spoke. His voice was flat, unreadable.

“Who was that guy yesterday?”

I kept my tone cool.

“You have a girlfriend. Why do you care?”

He went quiet.

For the next half hour, I kept reeling in fish.

Harrison got nothing.

He didn’t even seem to notice his hook was bare.

The air around him was heavy, like he was turning something over in his head.

I stood up. My legs fell asleep, and I stumbled backward.

Harrison moved instantly, catching me in his arms.

Our eyes locked.

And then he fisted his hand in the back of my hair and kissed me.

There was nothing romantic about it—just two mediocre anglers, the fish gliding beneath the surface, and one rough, thoroughly unromantic kiss.

It was less a kiss than a clash. His mouth was hard and sharp, furious like he was pouring all his bottled-up jealousy into it.

I didn’t back down. I wrapped my arms around his neck and stood on my toes to kiss him back.

I don’t know how long it lasted.

Right when my lungs burned and spots started dancing at the edge of my vision, he pulled away.

I gasped for air, looking up at him.

“Harrison. I don’t do side pieces.”

A faint flush stained the skin beneath his eyes, and it took him a long moment to steady his breathing.

“I know.”

“I’m not here to make excuses. I just want to be honest with you. She was arranged for me. My family set it up. I don’t have feelings for her. I’ll end it. Just give me time.”

…

That night, I checked Sloane’s profile again.

Nothing. Quiet.

But I knew. She was miserable.

Sure enough, late that night, she posted a string of unhinged rants.

The last one was just a few words:

[Just wait. I’m not letting this go.]