Prologue

LUCILLE

I watch him from my place across the street. I’m not sure if he realizes I’m here, and honestly, I don’t care. It’s been so long that I doubt he would think to even look for me. He’s with someone new.

I instantly hate her.

It wouldn’t matter if she were the kindest person on the planet with the biggest heart.

I would hate her.

Because she is with him and for no other reason. Although I know without a doubt that I will find a reason.

I always do.

Tilting my head to the side, I watch as she plays coy. I don’t know her name or where she’s from yet, but I can spot a faker from a mile away. She’s playing him. And she thinks she’s going to get far with him. The tilt of her head, her downcast eyes, and how she looks up at him through her lashes.

Fake.

Manipulative.

And I know a manipulator when I see one because I am just that—except I’m better. I’ve honed and perfected my craft. But at least I’m honest. I’ve never tried to hide my crazy, never played demure or sweet in any way. This one is doing just that. She’s faking, lying, manipulating, and Theron deserves better than that.

In fact, he deserves me.

I’m the only one who can make him happy. I know I am the only one who truly understands him and the monster that lies beneath his hero complex. He’s no hero, not my Theron. There is something there that begs to be released. He may play the hero, but I know the truth.

He’s a devil in disguise.

A dressed-up facade of a knight in shining armor.

In our town, he is one of those men who teeters on the edge but is just good enough that most people look up to him. Nights, North Carolina, isn’t what I would consider the city. It’s not New York or anything, but it’s not nothing, either.

It’s a city filled with about two hundred thousand people nestled outside of the capital city of Raleigh. That being said, I don’t know this woman, and I pride myself on knowing a lot about this city and the people who live here. It’s my passion, really.

It’s bothering me that I cannot place her. She seems to be around my age. I should at least recognize her face if nothing else. There is no doubt we’ve been in the same circles at some point. Although I don’t go to many places anymore, I used to love to be out and be seen.

It’s bothering me that I don’t know who she is. And that fact worries me almost as much as watching her take her clothes off in front of Theron—no, for Theron. Unable to take my eyes off her, I watch as she strips for him, trying to appear dainty and sweet.

She’s not.

At least, I don’t think she is, but it could be my jealousy talking.

He takes a step toward her, lifting his arm before extending his index finger toward her. I watch as he touches the hollow of her throat, slowly gliding his finger down the center of her chest. He stops right at the waistband of her skirt, and my whole body jerks.

I should look away.

This is going to send me into a jealous rage, but I can’t stop myself. It’s a morbid fascination or maybe just what I need to fuel my desire to get rid of her. I want to know what she has that I don’t.

She’s not younger.

She’s not prettier.

She is thinner, but her tits and ass are smaller, and I know this man likes a good handful of both to grab on to.

At least, I thought he did.

He always said he did... however, that was years ago. He could have changed his preferences. I can’t imagine he would. Now I’m wondering because that is the only difference between us.

Pressing my lips together, I roll them a few times, then let out a long, exhaled breath. I can’t allow the insecurities to consume me. If I let them get inside my head, if I allow them in, they will completely and totally take over every part of me.

Shaking my head, I lift my eyes back to the window and continue to watch them. She’s completely naked now, and so is Theron. God, he’s so beautiful. His dark hair, tanned skin, and long, lean muscles. He’s absolutely breathtaking.

I can see the outlines of his abs from where I stand, even from this distance. He’s defined in every sense of the word. And his tattoos—I have them memorized. I’ve traced them with my tongue.

Suddenly, he turns his head, and his gaze slides toward the window, looking out and seemingly connecting with my own. Gasping, I take a step back, sinking even farther into the shadows.

I’m unabashedly watching him, but I don’t want him to know it.

At least not yet.

So I watch as they fuck.

I take in every second of it and mentally devise a plan to ruin her… just like all of the others.