The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge

Gwyneth was loving the rush, tearing down the road, when suddenly a black McLaren slipped out in front of her. Thankfully, the other driver was only inching along. Just before the two cars would have collided, Gwyneth whipped her steering wheel, sending her car skidding several dozen yards away in a flawless drift before coming to a stop.

The whole maneuver was so smooth it looked choreographed, but Leonie was nearly scared out of her wits. The McLaren's driver was already swinging his door open.

He stepped out in a black silk shirt, dark tailored slacks, and polished shoes. His features were sharply defined, and a pair of black-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. Even through the windshield, Gwyneth could feel his irritation radiating toward her.

Her heart pounded with guilt. If she hadn't reacted so fast, or if he hadn't been driving so slowly, they'd both be lucky to escape a major crash.

"Did you hit him?" Leonie finally found her voice, realizing she'd just cheated death. Her legs felt like jelly.

Gwyneth stayed silent as the man strode over and rapped on their window. She forced herself to stay calm, rolling it down halfway and even flashing him a smile for good measure.

"What the hell were you thinking? Trying to get yourself killed-" The man's words died in his throat the instant he yanked off his glasses and got a look at Gwyneth's face, as if someone had doused him with a bucket of ice water.

"I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to," Gwyneth said, her voice as gentle and sweet as she could muster-which to him, probably sounded like she was trying to charm her way out of trouble.

"Sir, we really didn't mean it," Leonie chimed in, giving her best impression of a helpless damsel. "We just got our licenses and aren't used to the car yet. Please, can you let us off this time?"

The man spoke up, "My name's Connor Kaufman."

Gwyneth blinked in surprise, while Leonie quickly reached out, "Connor, can we go now?"

Connor... why did that name sound so familiar? Leonie wondered, even as Connor stubbed out his cigarette and an amused, almost wicked smile tugged at his lips.

"Fresh license, huh? That explains a lot. Still—” Connor glanced back at his car. In trying to avoid Gwyneth, his McLaren's hood was crumpled, smoke curling out from under it.

No need to guess-the car was most likely totaled.

Gwyneth realized just how much trouble she was in. Even at a glance, she could tell his car was destined for the repair shop, if not the scrap yard.

She pulled out her phone. "How about you give me your contact info? I'll cover the repair costs."

That McLaren was the latest model, worth at least three million dollars new. Even with depreciation, the loss was easily over a million. There was no way she could walk away from this without paying.

Connor looked her up and down. He'd never seen someone drive a sports car in a figure-hugging evening dress before, but on her, it looked surprisingly fitting.

"No need to pay me back," he said, "but since my car's trashed, you'll have to buy me dinner as an apology."

Gwyneth could hardly believe her ears. A car worth a fortune, and he was letting her off with just a dinner?

Leonie, suddenly on high alert, snatched Gwyneth's phone away before Connor could add his info, thrusting her own toward him instead. "Sorry, but my aunt's in a hurry. Take my number instead."

Leonie might be scatterbrained, but

she wasn't stupid. Even she could tell the car was expensive. No way

would a guy give up that kind of t

moneyjust for an apology dinner-unless he had another motive. With her uncle out of town, she felt it was her duty to look after her aunt, and there was no way she'd let some stranger waltz off with her.

Connor gave Leonie a passing glance. Another beauty, but she didn't catch his eye the way Gwyneth did. After years in Greenvale's upper crust, he'd become immune to beautifub

women-but Gwyneth was

vel

something else entirely.

How to describe her? She had the air of a classic heroine-a face like a painting, delicate and graceful, making a man want to protect her at first glance.

Ignoring Leonie, Connor kept his eyes on Gwyneth. "How about this: you drive me where I need to go, and we'll talk about the car later."

He'd already added Gwyneth's contact when she tried to hand him her phone.

Before Gwyneth could reply, he'd pulled Leonie out of the car and slid himself into the passenger seat.

"Miss, why don't you grab a cab? Let your friend give me a ride."noveldrama

Connor stuffed a wad of crisp bills into Leonie's hands, then turned back to Gwyneth. "You wrecked my car. Don't tell me you won't even give me a lift?"

Gwyneth couldn't find a good reason to refuse. Given his appearance and the kind of car he drove, he was probably someone of some

standing. Besides, with her owl net

in her hands, if he tried anything, she'd make sure he regretted

car

"Leonie, just take a cab, okay? I might not be able to give you a ride today."

Leonie was flustered. "Auntie, you don't even know him—what if he's dangerous? And you can't just leave me here!"

They were only ten minutes from Leonie's theater, but Gwyneth, cornered, could

only give her an apologetic look before hitting the gas and pulling away.

Left behind, Leonie spun in circles, frantic. After a long moment, she finally remembered to call Hawthorne.

"No way am I letting Auntie get swept off by some random guy. Uncle will kill me if anything happens to her!"