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January 20, 2014



January 20, 2014 StoryStarter prompt: The tenderness of his touch distracted her from the hints of cruelty gleaming in his eyes...

The tenderness of his touch distracted her from the hints of cruelty gleaming in his eyes. His stare was frighteningly real, yet she found herself unable to look away. He held her gaze, she could almost smell the scent of hatred roiling off of him. She swallowed and painted on a false smile.

"There you are," she greeted him cheerfully. "The guests have been asking for you."

His lips pulled into a thin line, which was more of a cruel sneer. "Have they now? And what, pray tell, did you tell them?"

"Nothing. I've told them nothing..." she lied. "Only that you were held up in traffic, and on your way."

He gripped her upper arms, his neatly trimmed fingernails found purchase in the tender flesh. He brushed his lips against her ear and murmured, "We both know where I really was, don't we Megan?" he chuckled softly and released her.

Yes, Megan knew he'd been with Eleanor. He never failed to point out Eleanor's sexual appetite. "Say hello, to our friends," she told him. Trying to maintain an air of aloofness. She'd long ago stopped caring what -- or who -- he did.

Just four more days. Hang in there, Megan. She told herself. 

Megan and Beau had been married nearly five years. The lavish celebration to which Beau had arrived late was their anniversary celebration. She watched as he strode confidently toward her father and put on his "good Beau" act. 

Just the way he'd done for her when they'd first met at a charity auction. 

He'd won her over with his smoldering, yet a touch dangerous, good looks. Theirs was a whirlwind courtship, the engagement had made all of the headlines: Megan Sinclair, daughter of Governor Archie Sinclair, engaged to billionaire oil magnate, Beauregard Hinton.

As soon as the honeymoon was over, Beau informed her that theirs was a marriage of convenience. He had a mistress and had no intention of giving that part of his single life behind. When Megan had tried to object, he'd swiftly sent her flying across the room with a strategically landed, open-handed slap, and warned her he'd see her meet with a most unfortunate accident before he allowed her to even think about leaving him.

She played his game. She played it well. Hell hath no fury like a rich woman scorned and soon, he would be the one meeting with a most unfortunate accident. Megan smiled and sipped at her champagne. "All in good time, Beau. All in good time."



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Lori L. Clark

Lori L. Clark currently resides in Hazelwood, MO with three rescue dogs. When Lori isn't listening to the voices in her head, waiting for the next creative inspiration to strike, she also loves to read, run, paint pet portraits and save dogs. Email Lori at LLClark.author@gmail.com

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