Page 8 of Wretched Heart
“Help?” he scoffed. “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done? Do you know how much you’ve cost me?”
“Whatever investment Barrett promised was a lie. You’ve lost nothing.”
I didn’t like the way he shook his head as if I were the idiot, not him. The man was delusional. If he’d conducted any form of due diligence, he would have discovered that Emerson Holdings was a spider web of companies that Barrett delighted in using to trap unsuspecting flies like Hugo.
“Just get the hell away from me,” Hugo said with a sneer.
When he snapped his fingers, a woman appeared from the shadows holding a young girl’s hand. Hugo’s wife and six-year-old daughter wore matching bridesmaids’ dresses, and the little girl clutched Maddison’s bridal bouquet.
“We’re leaving,” he said. “We need to find out where the fuck Maddison has gone.”
“I have her,” I said coldly. I was done playing nice.
Hugo’s eyes swiveled back to me. “What did you just say?”
“I’ll bring her back to your house tomorrow at midday. And then we’ll talk business.”
It wasn’t quite a bluff. I had eyes on Maddison thanks to Mace’s tracker.
We’d planned for the possibility that she wouldn’t get into the SUV. Reid would have had a better chance of persuading the bride to come with us, but if he’d stayed in the car, that would have meant bringing Mace into the chapel.
Mace could have worked his tech remotely, but I was more concerned about placing him in close proximity to Barrett and Alice. He doesn’t have a great track record controlling his impulses, which was why I’d told Jake to make sure my brother wasn’t behind the wheel of a vehicle when the Emersons left the chapel. I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t have mown them down, but you never know with Mace.
I was fairly confident Maddison wouldn’t get far without cash or a phone, and it was good fortune that sent her scurrying into a Moncrief hotel. I’m on home turf here, but that’s the only thing working in my favor right now as the runaway bride glares at me as we sit at the hotel bar.
Unlike her brother, Maddison has a backbone, and I’m starting to think I should have opened up my negotiations with her first. Maybe she can talk some sense into her brother. It’s going to be interesting to see how the dynamics work between the pair. But Maddison on her own is too much of a temptation to resist. I want her to myself for now.
“You want to talk?” Maddison spits out. “Unless it’s an apology, I don’t want to hear it.”
Our involvement in the Corbyns’affairs seems to be annoying all parties concerned, and I’m tempted to put Maddison over my shoulder and deliver her back to her family, but I’m not thinking with my head right now. I’m getting addicted to the way she’s looking at me, even if her eyes are full of hate and loathing. And a little fear despite what she claims.
As I absorb her glare, I notice the server behind the bar creep into view. She shares a look with Maddison. “Can I get you guys anything?”
Maddison reaches for her empty glass and Melissa obliges by picking up the whiskey bottle. It’ll be Maddison’s fourth by my calculation, and I’d prefer her to remain relatively sober for the time being.
“We’ll have two double espressos,” I say with enough force to make the server pause. Addressing Maddison directly, I add, “I don’t think we need any more alcohol. Do you?”
Her pale skin turns crimson. Maddison’s anger had apparently only been simmering before now. “I might be a pampered princess in your eyes, and maybe I have been brought up to obey, but you’re not my father. Or my brother,” she says, her jaw clenched and her words tight. “And thanks to you, I don’t have a husband to answer to either. So fuck you, asshole.” She slides her empty glass towards the server. “Fill it up, please, Melissa. And make it a large one.”
Melissa pours her drink so fast that it splashes over the sides. She wipes up the spill before daring to look at me. She raises her eyebrows. “Do you still want the coffees?”
As Maddison tips half the whiskey down her throat, I sigh. “I think I need one of those too,” I admit.
We wait in silence for the drink to be poured.
“Thank you, Melissa,” I say when she hands me my glass. “That’ll be all.”
She looks disappointed as she backs away. “Just give me a shout if you need anything else,” she says, directing the comment to Maddison.
Once we’re left alone, I lift my glass. “Cheers, Maddison.”
The bride glowers at me like I’ve just insulted her. “My name is Maddie.”
Damn, I need this drink. Either that, or I could find another way of loosening us both up. I trail my gaze down to her whiskey-damp lips, over her bare neck and shoulders, to the valley between her breasts as they’re pushed up by that hideous wedding dress. The one she was wearing to marry Barrett, I remind myself. His bride. My eyes snap back up.
“Cheers,Maddie,” I try again.
I welcome the warmth from the whiskey that soothes my cold and bitter heart.
