The Rented Husband (Southern Nights Series)

Chapter 27

                Stopping just outside of the ballroom doors where the rehearsal was to take place and away from prying ears, Cane gave his brother-in-law his devoted attention.   With a deceptively easy demeanor he leaned his back up against the wall and folded his arms over his chest.  “Alright, lay it out for me brother; what the hell is going on?”

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                 “That bitch!” she cursed under her breath.  Feeling her anger mount, she crumpled up a worn picture in her fist.  She wanted to kill her more than ever now.  Before, she only wanted to scare her off, take that haughty attitude of hers down a level or two.  She got on her nerves the way that she continually walked around like she was the best thing to walk the earth since the invention of sliced bread.

                But then, she had to push it.  She just had to go and do the unthinkable.  The whore dug her claws into her man and stole him right out from under her.  She was the one that was going to marry Brody, not that blond headed slut.  He was supposed to be hers, damnit!

                Sitting on the plane, she was careful to keep her gaze out the window.  She tended to wear her emotions on her face and she didn’t want anyone to see the rage that she was trying so hard to hide. 

                Originally, she had planned to wait until they got back from their trip to deal with her but the voices in her head wouldn’t shut up.  They only got louder and louder, demanding that she take care of her problem right now.  So here she was, on the plane, heading for Hawaii to deal with her once and for all.

                She focused on her breaths; keeping them short and controlled.  She reminded herself how crucial it was that she keep her maddening anger under control.  She had to if she was going to pull this off and take the prize in the end. 

                She couldn’t afford to make any mistakes right now.  Closing her eyes, she tried to think about how soft Brody’s lips would feel on hers once she got rid of that gold digging whore.  She couldn’t help the smile that came to her lips.  Would they be soft?  Would they be firm?  Was he a dominant kisser or more of a sweet kisser?  She bet he would be controlling; he was the type of guy that knew what he wanted and would do whatever he could to take what it was that he wanted.

                Opening her eyes, she forced out those thoughts.  She needed to focus on her plan, not Brody's kisses.  There would be plenty of time to enjoy them later, after she killed the bitch that dared to try and sink her paws into her man.

                He would likely be a little upset at first because of Olivia’s untimely demise, but she would be the one there to comfort him and when he cried on her shoulder, he would then realize just how perfect they would be together.

                It was fate; the two of them belonged together.  Not him and that stuck up, trampy, slutty, smutty ass whore.  It was always supposed to be him and her and it would be soon enough, she vowed to herself, just as soon as she eliminated the last obstacle first. 

                Olivia Murray was as good as dead.

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                Brody trailed in to the ballroom behind Olivia.  The moment they both stepped in, the whole room that was buzzing with chatter moments before went eerily silent.

                He didn’t miss the way that Olivia's blithe frame stiffened at the quick change in the room.  Not even thinking about it, he stepped up to her side and placed his arm over her shoulder.  “Smile,” he whispered out of the corner of his mouth.