Devilish - A Demon Stepbrother Romance by Michaela Adams Read Free Book Online

the evening. I would show whoever had sent those men that I had not been beaten. And I had not forgotten, either.
     
                  Unzipping the garment bag, I pulled out the deep red silk gown. The rich color looked maroon at some angles. It was cut slim, meant to hold onto each curve all culminating in a deep low cut back that gave a luscious glimpse of skin.
     
                  It was perfect.
     
                  I did not want to slink into this dinner, dressed in a forgettable black, and plain as day. I would come in on a burst of color, sparkling with jewels, and radiant with the energy of the hunt. The hunt for my killer .
     
                  The car pulled up. The nameless driver from a car service I had randomly looked up nodded over his shoulder at me. “We’re here, miss,” he said.
     
                  Outside the tinted windows, I could already see the photographers and reporters outside the beautiful Connecticut mansion. It wasn’t a red carpet event. It wasn’t a movie premiere. It was a political event so it was only a modest smattering of both photographers and reporters. But regardless, once she stepped out of the car, she would be making headline news.
     
                  The small group of journalists here will thank their lucky stars and editors that they had been sent to cover some boring, perfunctory fundraising dinner. Because at tonight’s boring, perfunctory dinner, they would have the first hand scoop of an heiress coming back from the dead.
     
                  I took in a deep breath.
     
                  I looked over at Liam. He looked like a fucking male model. Tall, broad shouldered, and gorgeous as the devil. He had found Liam’s suits in his old room. The black of his jacket only seemed to enhance the darkness of his face and the brightness of his green eyes.
     
                  “Shall we?” he asked, a smile on his lips, his hand extended.
     
                  You’re taking the hand of the devil, a small voice chastised me. You’re taking the hand of the devil without even thinking about the consequences.
     
                  I looked up into those green eyes and squashed that small voice inside me. I took his hand.
     
                  The car door opened and I was blinded by the lights of the camera.
     
                  “Smile, sweetheart,” I heard Liam murmur from somewhere. “The game is on.”
     
    ***
     
                  “Is that Sophia Madewell?”
     
                  “Oh my god! Sophia Madewell?”
     
                  “Holy Shit! Sophia! Sophia!”
     
                  “Sophia! Where have you been? You were buried two weeks ago!”
     
                  “Miss Madewell! You’re not dead!”
     
                  I choked on laughter, hearing the reporters near climb on top of each other to grab a moment of my time.
     
                  But instead, I smiled and posed with Liam. Standing tall next to him, I felt in control. I felt in power. My heart was still racing but I felt the fringes of adrenaline pouring into my blood.
     
                  “Isn’t that Madewell’s son? Liam? Liam!”
     
                  “Liam! What do you have to say about the reports on your murder in LA?”
     
                  “Weren’t you buried with your family here? Liam! A word, Liam!”
     
                  I smiled and made sure to lift my chin and angle my hips so I didn’t get awkward shadows and my dress flared out beautifully. I had left my hair loose and long, letting the brunette waves fall across my back.
     
                  Cameramen were literally leaning over the red velvet ropes that had been strung up to separate the press from the guests to get another shot of the