Tit for Tat Chapter 1

Broke and starving, I did the unthinkable. I kidnapped Brook Tyler, heir to the Tyler empire.

“Five thousand dollars,” I demanded, my voice trembling, “or I’ll have my way with you.”

In the dim, cramped space of my studio apartment, Brook was on his knees, his hands bound behind him. He’d been tense, but the number that tumbled from my lips made him burst out laughing.

“Five thousand? Who do you think you’re insulting?” he scoffed. “You might as well just have your way with me.”

But his wallet only held five hundred dollars. I snatched the cash and bolted.

Later, in the basement of his mansion, he tied me up in the exact same way.

Suitcases filled with cash were piled before me.

“Ava,” he said, his voice a low growl. “That’s fifty million.”

“Tonight, you’re having your way with me.”

* * *

“Five thousand? Who do you think you’re insulting?”

Brook’s laughter was sharp, his face flushing from pale to a deep crimson. “You might as well just have your way with me.”

I stared at him, my carefully constructed bravado crumbling into panic.

Grumble.

My stomach betrayed me with a loud, pathetic growl. I hadn’t eaten in two days. If I hadn’t been so desperate, I never would have risked something as insane as kidnapping Brook Tyler.

I just didn’t expect him to have so little regard for his own virtue. Given the choice between his money and his body, he’d picked his body. I guess it’s true what they say: the richer they are, the tighter their wallets. All I wanted was enough cash for a meal.

Hearing my stomach’s protest, Brook cleared his throat, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. “Hungry?”

I nodded, feeling a wave of dizziness wash over me. I was starving, practically on the verge of blacking out.

He looked at me as if I were a ticking bomb. He strained against the ropes, but they held fast. Defeated, he let out a sigh of resignation and shifted his hips forward, an absurd picture of a man marching to his own heroic doom.

“Well, go on then.”

Excuse me?

What did he mean, go on? Was he telling me to take the money from his pocket?

When I just stood there, frozen, he prompted me, a note of impatience in his voice.

“You don’t know how?” he asked. “I can teach you. Just… be gentle.”

A slow burn of red crept up the tips of his ears.

Just checking his pockets. How hard could it be?

I crouched down and my hands scrambled over the pockets of his expensive jeans. He was Brook Tyler, the golden boy of the city. He had to be loaded. I’d definitely picked the right target.

The moment my fingers made contact, his entire body went rigid. His face, already flushed, deepened to a shade of scarlet.

“Not there…” he rasped, his voice tight. “A little more… to the middle.”

Following his lead, I slid my hand deeper into his pocket. I didn’t find a wallet, but my fingers brushed against something hard and searingly hot.

I didn’t have time to process it. My vision was starting to tunnel from hunger. All I could think about was food.

I must have pressed too hard. A low groan escaped his lips, and his body went slack, slumping against me. A rich, warm scent of coconut and almond enveloped me—a surprisingly sweet, gourmand fragrance.

Of all the things for a man like Brook Tyler to smell like, he smelled like dessert.

Damn it.

Now I was even hungrier.