Page 8 of Cruel Revenge

Grady hums, grinning as one of the bottle girls passes with a bottle of champagne that costs close to a thousand dollars. “You should bring your wife to meet me sometime. We can celebrate. I’ll buy you a bottle, and the two of you can tell me all about how you fell in love.”

“I don’t know if that’s necessary.”

With a dismissive wave of his hand, he leans forward and pours himself another drink, the gun on his hip displayed more prominently than it was before.

For a second, I think it’s nothing more than a casual instance of his jacket falling open, but then he looks at me with such coldness in his eyes that I know I’m far from being out of the woods yet. Because this right here is him calling me on my bluff.

He shifts, crossing one leg over the other, swirling his alcohol around without taking another sip. “You’re going to bring her to meet me, Joshua. We’re business partners, are we not?”

“We are.” My hand curls into a fist.

His men move closer, and I relax. I have to.

Losing Grady as a supplier would ruin the business I’ve worked on building for years. He supplies all my cocaine, and cocaine makes up the bulk of my sales.

I force a smile, cheeks aching. “I’d be happy to introduce her to you the next time you’re in town. She’s a wonderful woman.”

“Good. I would hate to not know the woman that’s stealing you from my Emily.” He leaves his full glass on the table as he standsand straightens his suit jacket. “I’ve got a flight to catch, but you will introduce me to this woman if you want to keep our deal going.”

“I will.”

“And you should remember that divorce is always an option.” He gives me a friendly smile and claps me on the shoulder.

“Actually, it isn’t. I love my wife.” My tone is firm, though the words are bitter on my tongue.

It took my father being killed to end my parents’ marriage, as toxic as it was. Divorce would have been a blessing. And even if none of them actually cared about me, at least my father needed me around to teach me the ropes and do some dirty work for him.

Grady smirks and gives a sharp nod. “Very well. I look forward to meeting her.”

The people in the VIP lounge part, making way for him even though most of them have no clue who Grady really is. There’s an aura around him that commands attention, and it unsettles me at best.

My gaze stays glued to his back as he passes through the door of the lounge and down the stairs, his men following behind him.

They weave through the crowd, heading to the exit, and it’s only when they’re gone that I slump in my seat and throw back the rest of the drink.

This is a shit show. I don’t know how the hell I’m going to find a woman to pretend to be married to me.

Or maybe I could whisk some woman off to Vegas.

But then I would be tied to her. Even with a prenup, she would think she was entitled to something of my life, and I hate that idea more than anything else.

I’m not going to owe some woman anything.

Except it seems right now, I don’t have a choice.

Groaning, I scrub a hand down my face, glancing at the bodies writhing together on the floor.

People are free down there, not worrying about finding a woman to marry. They don’t have an importer breathing down their neck.

I’m my own boss, and even now shackles seem to be tightening around my neck.

Tonight has gone to hell, but at least there’s some part of it I can salvage.

Sighing, I leave the lounge and join the crowd, the heavy bass shaking the room making my heart thrum in time with the beat.

While I might not be much of a dancer, there’s always been some appeal to having a woman pressed up against me in a sweaty club. The way her body rolls against mine and the tensing of her body when my fingers skim just between her thighs or beneath the curve of her ass.

It’s my favorite kind of foreplay, and I’m looking forward to it.

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