The Revenge I Never Planned

Chapter One

If there was one thing I hated about my father's charity galas, it was the dresses.

Not the actual dresses.

The heels.

Whoever decided that women should balance on two-inch pieces of torture while smiling politely at strangers clearly had something against us.

I glanced down at my silver heels as I walked through the crowded ballroom and silently promised myself that the moment I got home, they were going straight into the trash.

"Amelia!"

I turned at the sound of my name.

Sierra was waving at me from across the room, her dark curls bouncing as she hurried toward me.

"You look gorgeous," she said when she reached me.

I smiled. "So do you."

"I know."

I laughed.

That was Sierra. No unnecessary modesty. No pretending.

She linked her arm through mine and looked around the ballroom.

"How much longer do we have to stay?"

"Probably another three hours."

Her eyes widened.

"Three?"

I nodded.

"My father said it's important."

"Your father also thinks speeches are a form of entertainment."

I bit back a laugh.

The ballroom was beautiful, though. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, throwing warm light across the room. Waiters moved between tables carrying champagne and tiny appetizers that looked far too fancy to actually be filling.

Tonight was the annual Parker Foundation Gala.

My father's biggest event of the year.

He'd been hosting it for almost a decade, raising money for education and children's charities across the city.

I was proud of him.

At least, I thought I was.

"Where's Charles?" Sierra asked.

"Probably hiding somewhere."

"Your brother?"

"Who else?"

I scanned the room.

There were hundreds of people here—business owners, politicians, celebrities, family friends. Somewhere among them was my fourteen-year-old brother, probably doing everything possible to avoid being forced into another conversation with one of Dad's business associates.

"There," Sierra said.

I followed her gaze.

Charles was standing near the dessert table with a plate piled dangerously high.

I groaned.

"He hasn't even been here an hour."

"And?"

"He promised me he'd behave."

Sierra shrugged.

"He's fourteen. That's basically a teenager's version of a death threat."

I laughed again.

I was about to walk over to him when my father appeared beside us.

"Amelia."

I turned.

Dad smiled and kissed my forehead.

"You look beautiful."

"Thank you."

His eyes moved to Sierra.

"Good to see you again, Sierra."

"Good evening, Mr. Parker."

Dad smiled before glancing toward the entrance.

"Stay close tonight, Amelia. There are some important people I'd like you to meet."

I sighed dramatically.

"Dad."

"Just a few."

"That's what you said last year."

"And you survived."

"Barely."

He laughed.

Then his expression changed slightly.

It was subtle.

So subtle I might have missed it if I hadn't been watching him.

His gaze had shifted toward the entrance.

I followed it.

A man had just walked into the ballroom.

He was tall.

Very tall.

And unlike everyone else in the room, he wasn't looking around as though he was impressed by the expensive decorations or the crowd.

He looked like he was searching for someone.

He wore a black suit without a tie, the top button of his shirt undone. His dark hair was slightly messy, as if he'd run his fingers through it one too many times.

There was something about him that made the room feel quieter.

Or maybe I was just imagining it.

"Who's that?" I asked.

My father's expression became unreadable.

"Someone I need to speak with."

Before I could ask anything else, Dad walked away.

I frowned.

"Okay..."

Sierra leaned closer.

"Whoever he is, he's staring at your father like he wants to murder him."

I looked at her.

"Sierra."

"What?"

"Don't say things like that."

"I'm just saying."

I glanced toward the stranger again.

He wasn't looking at my father anymore.

He was looking at me.

Our eyes met.

For a second, neither of us moved.

His eyes were an unusual gray-blue.

Cold.

Not the kind of cold that came from being uncomfortable.

The kind that made you feel like he'd already decided something about you.

Then his gaze shifted away.

I blinked.

"Okay," I muttered.

"What?" Sierra asked.

"Nothing."

But something about that man bothered me.

I didn't know him.

I'd never seen him before.

Yet for some reason, I couldn't shake the feeling that he knew me.

"Come on," Sierra said, tugging my arm. "Let's get food before your father introduces you to another billionaire."

I laughed and followed her.

Ten minutes later, I was carrying two glasses of sparkling water and trying to balance a plate of appetizers when someone bumped into me.

Hard.

My glass tilted.

The water spilled.

Directly onto someone's black shirt.

I froze.

"Oh my God."

I slowly looked up.

It was him.

The stranger.

His eyes dropped to the large wet stain across his shirt.

Then they lifted back to mine.

I felt my face heat.

"I'm so sorry."

He said nothing.

"I didn't see you."

Still nothing.

I looked at his shirt again.

"Your shirt..."

"I noticed."

His voice was deep and calm.

Somehow, that made me feel even worse.

"I can get you a napkin."

"I'll survive."

I stared at him.

Was that supposed to be a joke?

He didn't look like someone who joked.

"I'm really sorry."

His jaw tightened slightly.

Then his eyes moved over my face.

Not in the way a guy normally looked at a girl.

It was more like he was studying me.

Memorizing me.

I suddenly felt uncomfortable.

"Do I know you?" I asked.

Something flickered in his eyes.

"No."

The answer came too quickly.

I frowned.

"Okay."

He stepped around me.

I watched him walk away.

"Wow."

Sierra appeared beside me.

I jumped.

"Where did you come from?"

"I've been standing here for thirty seconds."

"I didn't see you."

"Clearly."

I rolled my eyes.

"He's rude."

"Very."

"And weird."

"Extremely."

I looked back at him.

He was standing near the balcony now, talking to an older man.

But even from across the room, I could tell something was different about him.

He wasn't here to have fun.

He wasn't here to socialize.

He was watching.

Watching my father.

Watching the room.

Watching everything.

And for some reason, that made me uneasy.

---

Later that evening, I escaped.

Not permanently.

Just from the ballroom.

I needed air.

My parents were busy talking to guests, Sierra had disappeared to find dessert, and Charles was probably still committing crimes against the dessert table.

I slipped through a quiet hallway leading toward the balcony.

The music became softer behind me.

I took a deep breath.

Finally.

Silence.

I stepped toward the balcony doors.

Then I heard voices.

I stopped.

Someone was talking.

A man's voice.

The stranger.

I recognized it immediately.

"...you don't know what the Parkers did to my family."

My heart skipped.

I moved closer without thinking.

There was another voice, quieter this time.

I couldn't make out the words.

Then the stranger spoke again.

"I've spent eight years waiting for this."

Eight years?

My stomach tightened.

I took another step.

The floor creaked beneath my heel.

Silence.

My breath caught.

The voices stopped.

I slowly backed away.

Too late.

The balcony door opened.

He stepped out.

His gray-blue eyes found mine immediately.

For the first time that evening, the calm expression on his face disappeared.

He looked surprised.

Almost alarmed.

I stared at him.

He stared at me.

Neither of us spoke.

Then his gaze dropped briefly to the small Parker Foundation pin attached to my dress.

His expression hardened.

And suddenly, I understood one thing.

He hadn't been looking at my father earlier.

He had been looking at me.

My heart began to pound.

"Who are you?" I whispered.

He didn't answer.

He simply looked at me for another long second before saying quietly,

"You're Amelia Parker."

It wasn't a question.

And somehow, that scared me more than anything else.

Because I had never told him my name.