Page 112 of Wild Card

With horror, I swiveled to the room, braced for a very large, very angry man to charge over the table and dismantle Henry.

But there was none.

In fact, Remy was nowhere to be found.

40

forget it

REMY

I was so fucking mad, I could barely see where I was going.

When Hank gave his stupid fucking toast and fucking kissed her again (imgoingtokillhim), my vision had dimmed to a pinpoint, my ears ringing. I had the wherewithal to get up and leave the room before I punched that motherfucker’s lights out and ruined Cass’s wedding pictures.

I was chugging toward the door, nostrils flared like a bull, when I ran into Grace.

Literally. I didn’t see her stepping out of the restroom hallway and slammed into her hard enough that she yelped and bounced off of me.

I grabbed her before she stumbled. “Whoa, there. I’m sorry, Mrs. Hastings. Are you all right?”

She blinked up at me for a second before straightening herself out and taking a step back. “Good lord, what in the world has gotten into you?”

My jaw muscles bounced when my teeth ground together. “Nothin’. Just need a little air.”

Grace Hastings assessed me for a long moment, her eyes calculating whatever puzzle she saw in me. “You’re flustered over my daughter, are you?”

“Yes, ma’am. She tends to have that effect on me.”

“You’ve made quite the impression on her. In fact, you’ve distracted her from her responsibilities and goals completely.”

“Wasn’t my intent,” I answered honestly.

“It never is in times like these. How much would it take for you to walk away?”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“What’s the number? ”

My jaw was popping again, my fists balled up until my knuckles strained. “You don’t have any idea who she is, do you? You’ve spent her whole life telling her what to do, robbing her of her choices. It must eat you up inside to think she’d make a decision on her own. Especially if that choice meant lowering her standards for me.”

“Really, no number is out of the question,” she said, otherwise ignoring me. “Use your imagination. Name your price.”

My eyes narrowed as I leaned over her for a heartbeat.

“There aren’t enough zeros,” I said, brushing past her for the door.

I shoved it open so hard, it hit the wall, the glass wobbling in the frame.

I took two steps and turned into The Horseshoe, ripping off my tie as I stormed to the bar. Leo eyed me as I approached.

“You okay?”

“Whiskey,” was all I said back.

He nodded and got to work.

I stood there fuming, planning all the ways I’d murder that limey bastard for kissing her again. All I could do about her mom was hate her.

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