He let them, but only for a moment, straightening when he’d had enough, grabbing a kid in each big arm, striding across the lawn, and throwing them back in the pool, much to their squealing delight.

“He needs help,” Iris mused.

I looked at her, and it took me a moment.  I followed her stare to see that she wasn’t talking about Heath.

She was talking about Dair’s friend, Turner.

He was chatting with Dair and my older boys, the four of them huddled together.  I couldn’t catch any of what they were saying from here, but it had apparently gotten her attention.

I’d known Turner briefly, on a professional basis years ago, and we’d become friendly again recently due to the weekly barbecues, but my knowledge of him was still superficial at best, and mostly came from what Iris shared with me.

Turner was one of Dair’s closest friends and colleagues, though they couldn’t have been more opposite if it’d been their goal.

Turner was sarcastic, snarky, and arrogant.  A total and unapologetic womanizer.  He was very vocal about the fact that he never intended to settle down.

Apparently Iris had a problem with that.

“Help with what?” I asked her, just to clarify.  Sadly, though, I knew her well enough to guess with some baffled accuracy the strange and gleeful inner workings of her brain.

“Finding the right woman.  I have a plan.”

I sent her a sideways glance.  Her smile was positively diabolical.

Well hell.

I wondered if I should warn Turner, but I quickly decided against it.

When Iris made plans, woe betide any poor soul that got in her path.

BOOKS BY R.K. LILLEY

THE WILD SIDE SERIES

THE WILD SIDE 

IRIS 

DAIR 

THE OTHER MAN

TYRANT - COMING SOON

THE UP IN THE AIR SERIES

IN FLIGHT

MILE HIGH

GROUNDED

MR. BEAUTIFUL

LANA (AN UP IN THE AIR COMPANION NOVELLA)

AUTHORITY - COMING SOON

THE TRISTAN & DANIKA SERIES

BAD THINGS

ROCK BOTTOM

LOVELY TRIGGER

THE HERETIC DAUGHTERS SERIES

BREATHING FIRE

CROSSING FIRE - COMING SOON

THE BISHOP BROTHERS SERIES

BOSS - COMING SOON

TEXT LILLEY + YOUR EMAIL ADDRESS TO 16782493375 TO JOIN MY EMAIL NEWSLETTER.11

TEASER!

Here’s a teaser for my upcoming novel.  Title to be announced.

Ours was the kind of love that ended up on the six o’clock news.  You know what I’m talking about.  The kind with body bags and headlines about murder/suicides.  

Tragically romantic in its way and highly toxic.  

I had enough venom inside of me without adding the poison of this relationship back into my bloodstream. ~Scarlett, R.K. Lilley

CHAPTER

ONE

“I WAS BORN FOR THE STORM, AND A CALM DOES NOT SUIT ME.”    ~ Andrew Jackson

PRESENT DAY

SCARLETT

He was here.  He was actually fucking here.

On this plane.  My plane.  In my cabin.

How dare he?

This was not allowed, and he fucking knew it.

With agitation, I slapped one of the first class menus against my palm, over and over, like I had a twitch.

I knew it was telling, but I just couldn’t stop.

“Oh my God,” Leona muttered, peeking out of the curtain.  “What’s he doing flying commercial?”

Humiliating me was the answer to that, but I didn’t say it aloud.

That bastard.  I was grinding my teeth.  Audibly.

Leona straightened, her best friend gaze going sharp as she studied me closely.  “I’ll take the cabin this time.  You don’t even need to see him.”

Leona worked the number two flight attendant position in our crew and had been my closest friend for many years now.

She was the good girl to my bad, the sweet to my sour, the nice to my vicious, the peacemaker to my ballbuster.

She was all the things I’d never be, and I loved her for it.  Adored the ground she walked on.

And she knew.  About him.  About our history.  She knew everything, though she was the only one besides me that did.

I shook my head sharply, not letting myself even consider it.  He knew I was here, of course he did.  For whatever twisted reason, he was on this plane and had bought a first class ticket, just to see me.

I would not give him the satisfaction of knowing how hard it was for me to face him.

Pride had always been my greatest weapon when it came to Dante.

Sometimes my only weapon, so it was honed to killing sharpness.

“I can handle him,” I told her.  And it was the truth.  It would hurt like hell, but it was a pain I was familiar with.

She bit her lip and nodded.  She was the sweetest thing.  So sweet, I wished I could be more like her.  I couldn’t.  I’d tried, but the results had been laughable.

“Is he alone?” I asked.

“I think so.  So far.”

 The ‘so far’ wasn’t without reason.  The last time he’d sought me out, he hadn’t been alone.

The bastard.

In all fairness, I probably shouldn’t have taken it so personal.  He was rarely alone.

I slipped into the bathroom with my makeup kit and did a quick touchup.

I’d been wearing a nude lip gloss for work as I usually did, but I dug out my favorite red lipstick for this little reunion.

It was aptly named:  Blood.

No other color was appropriate when dealing with my ex.  I put it on because I was planning to draw some.

It occurred to me then that I was relishing and dreading this confrontation in near equal measures.

You see, it wasn’t the first time.  It happened every so often.  Dante sought me out, confronted me, we each got in our blows and limped away.

I usually spat the last word at his retreating back.

A part of me lived for it.

My shredded heart had been wrapped up in spite for a very long time, wrapped so long and so tight that it was suffocating, and it was almost a relief sometimes to let it vent.

But how much of your life can you devote to spite?

I’d spent a lot of time thinking about this.

The answer, in my case, was sad:  Too much.

Great, gory chunks of it.  Major, necessary pieces.

And all because of him.  Dante the Bastard.

I loosened my tie and undid the top three buttons of my blouse, turning my uniform from professional to more than a touch sexy.

I had outrageous curves.  A tiny waist, voluptuous hips, a great ass, mile high legs, and full breasts.

I had the exact body type that drew him like a kamikaze to suicide, so of course I’d use it against him.

He’d never been able to resist this body, not once in his entire life.

I pushed up my breasts, pinching my nipples until they popped perkily through the layers of my blouse and vest.

Go get him, tiger.