The Redemption Read online Nikki Sloane (Filthy Rich Americans #4)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Filthy Rich Americans Series by Nikki Sloane
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Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 121723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
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“I have a plan,” I said.

“Yeah? So did I.”

I ignored her statement and reached inside my suit, withdrawing the folded piece of paper, and handed it to her. She unfolded the check, and there was no reaction as she stared at the seven figures. We’d agreed on five million, less the one hundred thousand for her salary, and although I hadn’t read the book yet, I trusted her review that my name was safe.

She lifted her gaze defiantly to mine. “Fuck your plan and fuck your money.”

The world slowed as she lifted the check and tore it cleanly in two. It was a staggering display of power, and my mouth fell open. Like no amount would satisfy her now, because she was beyond numbers. I was a fool not to realize Sophia was priceless.

“I gave you everything,” she said, putting the two halves of the check together. “My body,” she ripped them apart and stacked the pieces once more, “and my secrets.” Every rip she made tore through me mentally. “And what did you give me in return?”

She tossed the ruined check at my face, and the torn scraps fluttered as they fell, five million dollars’ worth of confetti to celebrate my betrayal.

“You kept this enormous secret from me. I told you I never wanted to be in the dark again, and you kept me there.”

The impact of it all was so brutal, it knocked me back a step, but the words came instantly. “I’m sorry.” My shoulders lifted as I took in a deep breath. “I will make it right.”

“Your money can’t solve this.” To prove her point, she swiped a hand across her bedspread, casting off the torn pieces of my check that had landed there.

“No, but I have a plan, and if you would be reasonable for a moment—”

“I don’t care, and I don’t need you, Macalister.”

Something inside me snapped at hearing she had no use for me, like she hadn’t said she loved me or our time together was meaningless. It broke the leash on my urge to control.

“Don’t be foolish,” I warned. “If you go after Damon now, it could ruin you. People won’t see you as the victim. They’ll say he didn’t know.” She was young, but she knew how the world worked. “They’ll spin you as the girl hellbent on destroying the career of a good man who made an unfortunate mistake a long, long time ago. Depending on how his people get him to respond, he could come out the other side looking even better.”

She closed her eyes and shook her head, not wanting to hear it.

“Have you considered that?” I demanded. “Because I have. Don’t let him beat you at your own game.”

It punched a cruel laugh from her, which made her wince. “Everything’s a game to you. Even me.” Her eyes watered with bitter tears. “You couldn’t get Marist to fall in love with you, so you tried with me instead.”

Her accusation cut me in half. In the beginning, there may have been a sliver of truth to what she was saying, but now? I slipped my fingers across her cheek, cupping the side of her face. “Sophia, no.”

She jerked away, gasping with pain from the sudden movement. “I didn’t give you permission to touch me.”

The dominant side of my personality was demanding I get control of this situation. My touch was a weapon against her, and I should use it. But instead, I withdrew, trying to respect her wishes, and stared at the scraps of paper littered around my feet.

“So, you got me to fall in love with you,” she said, “but I wouldn’t pat yourself on the back. Because now?”

Fire invaded her expression as she uttered the same sentence every woman I’d ever loved had said.

“I hate you.”

Her statement flared through my mind, awakening a sleeping giant.

It spurred the armies inside to pick up their weapons and prepare for battle. This was a challenge she’d issued, and I would fucking rise to meet it.

I had stumbled greatly, but I was prepared to do everything to gain her trust back and give her what she desired.

“You don’t hate me,” I said. “I won’t allow it.”

“Oh, my God, get out.” She scowled. “I don’t want to see you again.”

I shoved my hands in my pockets to keep them from balling into fists at her order. “If that’s what you need right now, I’ll leave, but this isn’t over.” I gave her the full force of my intensity to let her understand how serious I was. “I want you. I’m no longer afraid to admit I want you in every way. And once I’ve corrected my mistake . . . I will have you.”

Fear hinted at the edges of her face, and I was sure I wasn’t the cause. It was worry that she might want the very same thing.


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