by Harper West
Sneak Peak - Bitter Devil
Revenge has never felt so sweet...
Damon
Amanda Sutter was the love of my life.
Or so I thought.
But as the middle daughter of Millionaire Grayson Sutter, she had a legacy to uphold.
A legacy that couldn’t include an unworthy starving artist like me for a husband.
I always knew her family didn’t think I was good enough, but I never thought she believed it too.
Turns out, I was wrong.
Now, five years later, I’ve become one of the most well-known and successful artists in the country.
But just when I think I can move passed her… fate puts Amanda right in my path again.
And now, the ghost that’s haunted me for years is standing in my house—and she’s even more beautiful than I remember.
But these old wounds, full of rage and regret, have been festering for far too long.
And even though part of me still wants her.
The other part…wants to completely destroy her.
Bitter Devil is a sexy, lovers-to-enemies-lovers romance, from author Harper West.
This is Harper’s modern play on one of her favorite stories from Jane Austen, Persuasion. Except its dirtier! Standalone contemporary romance with a Guaranteed HEA.
Bitter Devil
A Lovers to Enemies to Lovers Romance
Prologue
Amanda
The Fourth of July has never been the all-American fireworks and apple pie for the Sutter family.
At least not since my mother died.
And to be honest, we never had the backyard barbecue thing even when she was alive. We always got out of town—way out of town—to avoid the typical holiday activities. This year is no different. My father and baby sister are hightailing it to the family condo in Napa. It’s only a mere four bedrooms compared to the house here in Los Angeles, but it’s still ostentatious. And the wine community is far too consumed with itself to waste time on trivial things like fireworks and parades.
I’m not saying Father didn’t do the best he could to raise three daughters alone. He loves us. I know this.
But his way to love has always been to throw money at everything. Not that we girls couldn’t get a hug from our father, if we could find him. But he worked constantly, so that he could provide for us. That meant the best house, and wardrobe, and pretty much anything my mother wanted, except more time with him, of course. And after she died, it became even more about giving us the best schools, the best tutors, the best nannies, with his millions. Sometimes money doesn’t buy the best, though. There were a few nannies who pinched, and private schools that felt more like prisons. And all those things made us was lonely.
Father thinks that money can buy love, too. Fortunately, my older sister Margot found real love with a man who also happens to be wealthy and meets my father’s standards for marriage material. Some of the guys Father has picked out for us over the years have been anything but love matches.
Take Kent Jacobs. I’ve known Kent since we were in private school together. Kent is my father’s idea of a perfect future son-in-law: he’s smart, from a wealthy family, and athletic. And he was mostly okay by me when we were in school. I want out on a few dates with him. He was nice enough, handsome too. But there was just no spark. I can hear Father now: “Kent Jacobs is the kind of boy who will become the kind of man who will be able to take care of you, Amanda. Love is a waste of time.” If I brought up Margot or my mother, he would scowl and wave his hand dismissively at me, saying they were the rare exceptions to a very important life rule.
I remain thankful that Kent didn’t follow me to college. He chose Stanford and I fought to go away to Columbia in New York. Father hated that I would be so far away from his protective eye and controlling arm. But he relented when he realized how close I’d be to Wall Street and all those financiers, not to mention doctors and lawyers.
Except, his plan backfired. Because the further into college I got, the more I learned about myself and what I really wanted out of life without the influence of my family. And the more I discovered about my desires, I found myself drawn to art and music and those who created beauty from nothing.
And that’s how I met Damon.
I dove headfirst into the art scene and we ran into eachother at a gallery opening in SoHo. We were both staring at the same modern cubist painting when he began asking me what I liked about it.
He took me by surprise.
No one in my family ever asked me what I thought. Or ever cared what I thought. They had always told me what to think. What to feel. What was acceptable.
But not Damon.
He wanted to know me. To understand the way I viewed the world. And he taught me more about beauty and truth in just a single conversation, than I’d learned in my whole lifetime.
What started as a friendship bloomed into something so much more. Before I knew it, I fell in love with him.
Damon was everything I had never known. He was kind and warm. Intelligent and trusting. And on top of it all, an incredibly talented artist. We spent every second together and as the days turned to months, our love grew. There was no question of if we would get married, only a matter of when.
But I should’ve known better. I should’ve remembered that even though my life may have looked like a fairytale from the outside, the inner truth was much more complicated.
And when I brought Damon home, naively thinking that my love for him would be enough to satisfy my family, I was gravely disappointed.
My father immediately made it clear that he’d never allow us to be happy. And that if I chose that kind of life, I’d never be satisfied and he’d cut me off from the comforts I’d grown accustomed to.
But I didn’t care if he disowned me, or threatened me, because I finally knew what I wanted out of life. And what I wanted, was Damon.
But Grayon Sutter had made a career out of studying his rivals—and he knew exactly how to force my hand.
He told me that if I stayed with Damon, if we got married, he would spend the rest of his life telling Damon how worthless he was by Sutter standards. He’d belittle him, mock him, and never truly accept him. But beyond that, he would punish him. Punish him because he wasn’t worthy in my father’s eyes. He’d take away every opportunity that came Damon’s way, and then he’d ruin him until everything beautiful and good about Damon was destroyed.
I couldn’t let that happen.
So I did the only thing I could do. I broke up with him to save him. But not in the normal it’s-just-not-going-to-work-out-for-us way, either.
Instead, I told him that my father was right—that I could never be happy with a man like him, because I was meant for a better man. A better life. A life he could never dream of achieving because he wasn’t good enough.
Horribly cruel? Yes—but our breakup had to be.
Damon was always a fighter. He fought for everything he ever wanted; and I knew that If I wanted to protect him, I needed to break his heart. I needed to convince him that I wanted nothing from him, and that I was just like my family, because if I didn’t, he’d never stop trying to prove that we could be together.
So I did it.
I broke his heart on purpose…and destroyed my own along with it.
Even now, five years later, I can still see the look on his face when I close my eyes. Still feel the misery of what I inflicted on him as if it only happened yesterday.
“Amanda, where are all of your things? Is that all you’re taking with you?” My father’s voice pulls me from my thoughts and I look up to see him coming down the last of the stairs before pausing in front of me.
“Remember, Father, I actually moved all of my things into storage last weekend. It’s just these two suitcases now.”
“How practical of you,” says Emily. She slowly descends the stairs like she’s making a grand entrance to her own ball. Instead of an evening gown, though, she’s wearing a coral co
lored romper and a matching hat with a floppy brim the size of Kansas. Her pouty lips are painted in the same shade, and her huge black square sunglasses shroud half of her face. “Have they got all of my bags in the limo, then?”
Of course they have, and she knows it. When I came down half an hour ago, the foyer was full of hers and Father’s luggage. And that’s not counting all the stuff that already had been moved to their new place. They probably made the poor driver retrieve it all from upstairs, seeing as how we haven’t had a live-in staff for years. And I sat on the bottom step and watched him haul all of it to the semi-stretch SUV parked outside the front door.
It’s funny how life changes.
My father, once beyond wealthy, had fallen from grace so to speak. Don’t get me wrong, we were still quite wealthy. But my father’s habits had taken us to a place where we’d had to cut back—a lot.
Not that he or my sister seem to notice.
This is the trouble with my father. He can’t afford to hire a limo like that. And he can’t afford this house anymore, which is why we’re leaving today, so that the hotshot producer and his family who are renting it from my father can move in this afternoon.
Father dear hasn’t been able to afford the lifestyle he leads for the past several years. But he’s in denial, even as we close the front door behind us, probably for the last time. And Emily’s denial about our situation is just as deep. Well, I should say their situation, because the one thing I’ve managed to do over the years that I’ve lived here is to save enough money so that I can chip myself free from the family iceberg before it finally crumbles.
“Are you sure we can’t drop you at the airport?” asks my father.
“No thank you. I’m really fine to drive myself, I’ll park in the long-term lot. Besides, that limo is already bursting at the seams with Emily’s fifty-seven suitcases.”
Emily sticks her tongue out at me.
“Suit yourself,” he says. “Call us tomorrow from Margot’s.”
I wave at Emily as she disappears inside the car and the driver closes the door. I kiss my father on his cheek, and he gives me a stiff hug in return. I walk slowly to my own car as I watch them drive away. I suppose I should be sad that I’m not spending Thanksgiving with them. But they won’t be here, and I have no desire to follow them to Napa Valley. I’ve decided to take my extended vacation elsewhere.
1
Amanda
Even in the dark of night, I can see the outlines of Kauai’s lush beauty. I can feel its soothing wonder take hold of me as I step out of the airport into the cool November air.
Margot and Stirling have sent a car for me instead of picking me up themselves, but she’s promised to have a beautiful meal waiting for me back at the house they’ve rented.
My driver escorts me to an SUV that’s really not much smaller than the one that transported Father and Em this morning. I shouldn’t have expected anything less, although Margot has never been pretentious about hers and Stirling’s wealth. In other words, she doesn’t act as if their money is the most important thing to them. They live well, but they also share with others. I happen to know that they chose a house big enough for all of us for the summer, but Father refused the invitation, and Emily of course just does whatever he does. I wonder if she secretly really wanted to be here, at least this weekend. Admittedly, I feel more at ease to stay a bit longer without Father and Em here.
We seem to twist and wind over the hills of the island for hours more, even though my destination is only about thirty minutes from the airport.
Finally, a soft glow pushing above the trees signals our approach to a residence. And there, tucked inside what seems to be its own private little jungle, is Margot and Stirling’s holiday vacation home.
The floodlights shining up from the ground reveal the huge home, constructed in dark wood and stone, largely Craftsman in design. It’s opulent, but not ostentatious. Every window glows with warm light from within. It’s magnificent.
Margot stands waiting in the entrance with the double doors thrown wide open before the car even pulls to a complete stop. She runs over as the driver opens my door to let me out.
“Mandy!” Margot says, and she traps my arms in her hug before I can even lift them to embrace her. She’s the only one who calls me “Mandy.” At least she is now—Damon used to call me that too. But it’s still good to hear Margot say it.
“Oof! I’m glad to see you too,” I say, and grab her waist to keep from tumbling backwards into the car.
“Let me look at you,” she says, and pulls back from me. We grasp each other’s forearms as we exchange smiles. We haven’t seen each other in months, even though we live across town from one another. Margot did a good job of distancing herself from the madness of my father. A big part of that was marrying a man she actually loves, who also meets with Father’s approval because he’s rich. So that made for an easy escape. She’s safe and busy with her own family. I really need to make more of an effort to spend time with her, I think to myself. “You look great.”
Margot got my father’s dark hair, just like Em. She keeps it cut in a short bob, parted on the side, and hanging lower in the front. A silvery-white ribbon of color adorns one side in the front.
“And you look amazing,” I say. And she does.
“Amanda! You made it.” Stirling comes out to take my suitcases from the driver. I step away from Margot briefly to hug him.
In addition to being very tall, Stirling is quite a bit older than Margot. But he’s extremely handsome in that distinguished investment banker kind of way. His crewcut is more salt than pepper these days, but he has kind blue eyes to match his good heart.
“Hi, Stirling,” I say, as he kisses my cheek. “Good to see you. Thanks so much for sending the car.”
I open my purse to tip the driver, but Stirling stops me.
“I’ve got it,” he says, and hands the driver some folded bills before turning back to me. “Ah, it’s the least we could do. We both worked late to finish up before the long weekend, and Margot also wanted to have a late meal for you.”
“Well, thank you.”
“Come on, let’s get you inside.” Margot puts her arm around my shoulders, and Stirling plucks up my suitcases. We follow him inside, and Margot closes the huge doors behind us.
The instant I cross the threshold, my breath catches, not from the expanse of the foyer or the dandelion-shaped crystal chandelier casting its happy light down on us. I feel a rush of familiarity pass through me, followed by its stark impossibility, since I’ve never been here before.
“Pretty great, isn’t it?” asks Margot, probably because of the look I must have on my face. “I couldn’t believe we got it as late as I waited to book something. But I guess it wasn’t even available until the last minute, but the owner decided to travel for the holidays after all.
“Yeah, it’s great,” I say, trying to get a grip on myself.
Stirling is halfway up the wooden staircase with my luggage.
“I’ll just put these in your room and be right down so we can eat,” he says.
I nod, and before I can take my next breath, Cammie is running down the front hall toward me.
“Aunt Amanda! You’re here!”
“Yes, I finally made it,” I say as I take her into my embrace. “Hang on, let me look at you.” I hold her back from me. She’s always been tall, but I can’t believe she’s only nine. “You’ve gotten so much taller since I saw you!”
“More than a few, I’m sure. Too bad I have not proof of the ten feet you’ve grown since then!”
We laugh, and lock elbows as we make our way to the back of the house.
“Have you started your summer reading list?” asks Margot. Apparently, she and Stirling aren’t allowing Cammie’s summer to be quite as carefree as she’d like it to be. “Dad and I gave you the whole month of June off to hang out with your friends before we left for Kauai.”
“I have actually, and I really like the first book
on the list. Since it is actually summer vacation and I don’t have to wake up early, can I hang out with you and Aunt Amanda while you have dinner?”
“Speak for yourself,” says Stirling from behind us. “The ribs for tomorrow aren’t going to barbecue themselves. But yes, you can sit at the table with us for a while, if it’s okay with your mother.”
“Fine, but you’re helping. Go set the table.”
“The girls ate earlier, but Margot and I had our own last-minute work stuff to finish, so we decided to wait and eat with you,” Stirling says.
“That’s awesome,” I say. “I’d hate to be the only one scarfing down food while everyone else stares at me. Where’s Sylvia, by the way? I hope she’ll at least make an appearance.”
Sylvia is Stirling’s daughter from his first marriage, which ended badly. Neither Stirling nor Sylvia has been on good terms with Sylvia’s mother for several years. It hasn’t been easy, but Margot has done her best to be a positive maternal presence in Sylvia’s life, especially when Sylvia moved in with her and Stirling just a few months before Cammie was born.
“She’s pissed at us for making her come to Hawaii instead of spending the whole summer unsupervised with her boyfriend, who we’re not too keen on,” says Margot. “She’s been holed up in her room since she and Cammie finished dinner a few hours ago, no doubt Tik-Talking or Facesmashing or whatever it is the young people do these days. You might not see her until tomorrow.”
The back of the house is a stunning open-concept layout with a sunken living room, complete with fireplace and a flatscreen tv over the mantle, a more formal dining space, and a massive kitchen with state-of-the-art appliances, wine bar, coffee bar, and a huge island with six stools. The three areas of the space are tied together by the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows, some of which are actually panels of an accordion glass door that opens to the back yard paradise where the swimming pool, jacuzzi, outdoor kitchen and fire pit await. Outdoor lighting shines into shadows that hint at the lush beauty that will be revealed when the sun comes up tomorrow. Whoever the owner of this house is has done very well for themselves.
