The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge

The answer was no.

Gwyneth finally let herself relax, at least a little. Hawthorne wasn't that kind of

man.

"Miss Langford, your purchase-"

The shop assistant's attitude had completely changed from before. At the same time, as Hawthorne finished reading the transaction notification for Patti Yale's purchase, another message popped up-this time, from the same boutique, but now the card had been used by Gwyneth.

He stared at the message for a long time, speechless.

Did Gwyneth just run into Patti Yale?

His expression grew tense as he glared at his phone, as if he could force it to give him more answers.

For a moment, he played out the entire scenario in his mind-Gwyneth coming home, furious, tears streaming down her face as she accused him of two-timing her.

Just imagining her hurt expression twisted his heart painfully.

He sat there, lost in thought for nearly half an hour. The study was warm, but his hands, his feet, even his heart felt cold.

The shrill ring of his phone finally yanked him back to reality. He flinched, and when he reached for the device, Patti Yale's name was glowing on the screen.

"Hello"

Only after hearing Patti's voice did Hawthorne snap out of his daze. His own voice came out flat, cold as steel. "What do you want?"noveldrama

Patti paused, then slipped into a syrupy tone. "What time are you coming by

tonight? I bought that lingerie you like. I want to show you."

A flicker of disgust crossed Hawthorne's face, though his voice stayed even, lips barely moving. "I'm busy with work. I won't make it tonight."

He couldn't have been clearer, but Patti didn't seem to get the hint.

"Hawthorne, you gave me your card, didn't you? Isn't that your way of saying you want to take care of me? I want to thank you. I know I turned you down before, and that was my mistake. But tonight, I'm youngift. How about it?"

She waited, certain he'd come running. Wasn't this what he'd been waiting for all along?

Truthfully, Hawthorne didn't interest her much. She'd had at least eight or nine men like him-silent types,

boring, the kind who thought onenet

creditcard could buy a woman's

heart. Never mind saying sweet things, never mind taking her to a fancy restaurant; all he had was money. Who else would blow a couple million on her in one go? Not even her own father had done that.

Patti was sure she had Hawthorne wrapped around her finger. Once she became Mrs. Everhart, everything he owned would be hers.

But James Mercer had promised her even more: he'd get her father out of prison, and give her ten million-so long as she got him Hawthorne's confidential project files. That was real money.

Patti knew the difference between a couple million and ten million. Ten million was the better deal.

As for Hawthorne-well, even if he found out she'd betrayed him, what could he do? It was just some trade secrets. He had more projects than he could count. She could always bat her lashes, pout a little, and he'd forgive her.

Hawthorne wanted to play along, but Gwyneth's purchase had shaken him more than he cared to admit.

"Get some sleep," he said abruptly, and hung up, his mind in chaos.

Out in the driveway, he heard a car pull in. Hans was bringing Gwyneth home.

Hawthorne left the study and hurried downstairs.

"You're home?"