Page 108 of The Thug And His Doll

“No, I sold them,” Sterling replies sarcastically.

“Funny,” comes Robert’s tight response as he slides into the backseat without so much as a nod of acknowledgement, the rude bastard.

“Good luck, mate,” I mutter to Sterling as he shakes his head at his dad’s shitty behaviour.

“Fuck knows I’m gonna need some luck to get me through today,” he replies under his breath. “That and a flask full of brandy,” he adds, opening up his jacket and showing me the silver flask tucked into his inside pocket.

“I’m with you there, mate,” I say, nausea churning in my stomach at the thought of what I’ve got to do later.

He gives me a knowing look, and squeezes my arm before taking a seat in the backseat next to his dad. Slamming the door shut, I pull open the driver’s door and slide behind the wheel. A couple of minutes later we’re following Baxter to the hotel.

Along the way, the residents of Princetown line the streets, waving as the car passes them by. You’d think Robert was royalty given the way everyone applauds and cheers. It’s fucking ridiculous. If only they knew how he came by his riches, maybe they wouldn’t be so enamoured by the bastard.

When we pull up at the hotel, the flashlights from all the cameras start going off. Contained behind rows of metal fencing leading up to the entrance, the press jostle for the best picture of the groom and his son. Over the years Robert has used the press to his advantage, and hasn’t given too shits that Sterling has been hounded by the press for the best part of his adult life.

Touted as one of the richest, most eligible bachelors in all of England, Sterling has an intense dislike for the press. It’s part of the reason he’s so reclusive, choosing to keep himself out of the limelight as best he can. Doesn’t seem to matter to the press, however, they’re like circling vultures, just waiting for a juicy story they can feed the public.

I don’t envy him, not one fucking bit.

“Shall we get this shit over and done with then?” Sterling says, as he opens the door to the car and steps into the frey.

Almost immediately the press clamour for a photo, pushing and shoving at each to get the best shot. Thank fuck for Riley, AJ and Troy who have the unenviable job of keeping the fuckers in check. Not that they’re bothered, they know how to handle themselves. The press have been forewarned with what is expected of them. Anyone who breaks the very long list of rules laid out will be escorted from town, so it’s in their best interests to behave. Only one magazine has been given the opportunity to photograph the entire wedding, these fuckers are from the tabloids, and will be drip-fed photos as and when Robert deems appropriate.

Switching off the engine, I step out of the car, waiting for Robert to emerge. His shiny, buffed to perfection shoes emerge first, followed by a lean body clad in his bespoke grey suit.

The smile he failed to give me is plastered on his face as he rises upwards and strides towards the waiting press. I slam the door of the Rolls Royce, following them both, hanging back as he poses for pictures with Sterling.

“Mr Blade, are you looking forward to getting hitched?” one of the press asks, the flash from his camera blinding.

“Yes, very much so,” Robert replies, throwing his arm around Sterling’s shoulder, who just grits his teeth.

“And Melody? Is she excited too?” another asks.

“Why wouldn’t she be, she’s marrying one of the richest men in the UK,” he replies obnoxiously.

“And your ex-wife? How does she feel about today? Have you invited her to the wedding?” another cheeky bastard asks.

The crowd laughs, and I see Sterling tensing up further. If Robert doesn’t get him inside soon he might just lay one of them out. Sensing blood, a short, fat, balding man eyes Sterling.

“What about you, Sterling? How do you feel about your new stepmother and stepsister?”

“Can’t say I’m all that–” Sterling begins, but Robert cuts him off.

“He’s delighted, aren’t you, Sterling?” Robert prompts, his grip on Sterling tightening.

“Yeah, over the fucking moon,” comes Sterling’s terse response.

“Well, I think we’d better get inside. It doesn’t pay to be late to my own wedding. Time is money, chaps,” Robert adds with a sleazy smile, and the crowd laughs, bolstering his ego further.

What a crock of shit. This is a fucking circus, not a wedding.

Following the pair inside, I hang back as Robert and Sterling exchange a few heated words. I use the moment to quickly tap out a text to Lia.

Just arrived. Are you and Toby okay?

We’re just fine. She replies immediately, the three little bubbles telling me she’s still typing out a message. Toby is a little overwhelmed. I’m glad we all decided to stay at the hotel last night with Daisy. We missed you.

I smile, forgetting for a moment that this ease we have with one another will all soon come to an abrupt end. Blowing out a breath, I type a response.

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