Gloria's Revenge by Nelle L'Amour Read Free Book Online

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    “Gloria, I really enjoyed sharing Paris with you.” His voice was soft and breathy.
    An avalanche of memories bombarded my head. The bath…the Louvre…the roses…the Ferris wheel…the ring. Toi et moi . My aching heart sank to my stomach. Words stayed trapped in my throat, but tears were brewing. I inhaled a deep breath to keep them from falling.
    Jaime sensed my distress. The look on his face became one of confusion and concern. He brushed the tip of my braid across my chin. “What’s the matter, angel?”
    Calling me “angel” again almost put me over the edge. Keep it together, Gloria. Don’t let this man make you fall apart , my logic pleaded.
    “I’m just tired…that’s all.” I was actually worn out by this man. By the way he could play with my body, my mind, and my fragile heart and tear them all apart.
    I finally jerked away and leaped out of the car.
    “Gloria, wait!”
    “Have fun tonight,” I managed through clenched teeth.
    “Gloria, it’s not… ”
    What you think . I’d heard these words once too many times and was over that lame excuse. Cutting him off, I slammed the heavy door shut and sprinted past the doorman into my building. Ty was waiting for me in the elegantly appointed lobby with my luggage piled high on a dolly. I surveyed the statuesque man with the build of Mr. Clean. He could easily trample Jaime if he came after me.
    I hurried to the elevator, almost running. I glanced over my shoulder to see if Jaime had followed me into the building. He hadn’t. I would be lying to say I was grateful.
    With my palm, I anxiously pounded the “UP” call button. To my relief, the doors parted instantly and so did my mouth. Looming before me was Victor Holden. He was clad in an expensive equestrian outfit—a navy riding jacket, tight cream britches, and shiny leather boots. Under one arm was a black velvet helmet and dangling from the hand of the other was a worn leather riding crop. The sight of the latter made me inwardly shudder. Was this the riding crop he’d beaten Jaime with as a child? While I’d seen Victor in this uniform before, it now revolted and enraged me knowing his history of physical abuse.
    His steel-gray eyes, like needles, pierced mine. “Gloria,” he sneered.
    “Hello, Victor,” I said icily. Avoiding his gaze, I stepped into the elevator, expecting him to step out. Except he didn’t. The doors slid closed, and I was trapped inside with him. The memory of his repulsive sexual assault in Paris flooded my head. Jaime had rescued me, but there was no Jaime Zander in sight now.
    Anxiously, I reached for the “Open Door” button to escape. Before I could make contact with it, Victor caught my wrist and, in one coordinated move, slammed me hard against the side wall. He pressed his hard-as-nails body against me, painfully crushing my own bruised body. The remains of his lunchtime bourbon lingered on his breath and nauseated me. I squirmed, trying to free myself from his weight, but I was no match for his strength. The man, despite his age, regularly worked out with a trainer in addition to being an accomplished equestrian and was more fit than someone half his age. The elevator remained stagnant. The air thickened. My pulse rate quickened.
    He leaned in to me, his stinking breath heating my face. “I don’t pay you two million dollars a year and a hefty bonus to fuck your brains out with that Zander piece of shit in Paris.”
    Despite my shallow breathing, I held my own and looked straight into his eyes. “I was there on personal business, and I also met with Sandrine, the General Manager of the Champs-Elysées store.”
    His lips snarled. “Don’t bullshit me, Gloria. I’m not a patient man.”
    My eyes stayed lock on his. Though my heart was racing, I was not going to let him intimidate me. “I know why you hate him.” And why he hates you. My body contorted with fury at the thought of him physically abusing young Jaime.
    His face grew glacial.