The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge

Gwyneth wasn't really paying attention, but she pretended to care as she dangled

the keys in her hand. "Alright, I'll give you a ride."

Chris glared at her, fuming, and muttered under his breath that she was hopelessly naïve.

Men-never any good. He was just about to say something when Victoria quickly reached over and clamped a hand over her son's mouth. "Go on, have fun," she said with a sunny smile.

Chris rolled his eyes so hard they nearly stuck, and Celia huffed in indignation. What was the big deal anyway? It was just a fitted dress-so what if Great- Grandpa hadn't seen one before? Now the two of them were bought off, utterly shameless.

Gwyneth let go of Hawthorne's hand and said softly, "I'll go change clothes and bring the car around. Wait here for me."

Hawthorne's reply was calm. "Alright."

He was used to being driven around Greenvale by chauffeurs, but he'd never been in a car with a woman at the wheel-let alone in the passenger seat beside Gwyneth. Not even Leonie had sat there before.

He waited on the front steps for a few minutes, then the sound of a sports car engine tore through the evening quiet, drawing nearer.

Hawthorne glanced up, his dark eyes instantly drawn to the woman in the driver's seat.noveldrama

Gwyneth rested one hand casually on the steering wheel, the other tucking a wind-blown strand of hair behind her ear. The sun caught her bare arm, turning her skin almost luminous. The sunset splashed vibrant red and gold across her, and with her naturally wavy hair and the tiny beauty mark at the corner of her upturned eye, she looked irresistibly wild and alluring.

Hawthorne's breath caught. Gwyneth always seemed more mature and composed than Leonie, even though they were the same age, but he hadn't expected this daring, untamed side of her.

He'd watched Victoria race in Formula One back in the day, but drivers then were always hidden beneath layers of gear-their faces impossible to see. Gwyneth,

on the other hand, was dazzling and untamed, impossible to ignore.

Gwyneth took in the sight of the man standing in the lengthening shadows, his white shirt glowing in the sunset, suit jacket slung over one am. His Adam's apple moved as he swallowed, his features refined yet sharply defined a portrait of cool restraint and authority, with just a hint of

repressed fire.

Her car rolled to a stop in front of him, and she tilted her chin, eyes brimming with

mischief and challenge. "Get in," she said, her voice rich and sultry.

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Hawthorne slid into the passenger seat, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt as he settled in revealing a glimpse of his toned chest The breeze tossed his carefully styled hair, making bim look just a little bit rakish, a stark contrast to the earlier buttoned-up, composed image.

Gwyneth shot him a sideways glance, surprised-she'd never seen this side of Hawthorne before. Her heart skipped and nearly sent the car veering onto the curb.

"No daydreaming while you're driving," Hawthorne said dryly.

Gwyneth's cheeks flushed bright red. She'd only glanced at him for a second— hardly daydreaming. This man, honestly, sometimes she wanted nothing more than to shut him up.

"Thinking about shutting me up?" he asked, a teasing glint in his eye.

A red light flashed ahead. Gwyneth hit the brakes, stopping the car.

Fifty-nine seconds felt like an

eternity. She didn't respond, but suddenly, she felt a hand at the back of her head, guiding her toward him. Their lips met in a sudden, electric kiss-no warning, no hesitation.

Gwyneth froze, her mind going blissfully blank-like she'd forgotten how to breathe.

It was her first kiss. It was Hawthorne's, too.

He'd never felt desire for any woman before, never knew the sweetness those onscreen kisses could hold-until now.

They lost track of time, lost in each other, until the blare of car horns behind them broke the spell. In her ear, Hawthorne's low, magnetic voice rumbled.