Page 77 of The Billionaire's Fake Wife
As I have witnessed first-hand. I drum my fingers on my chest, "You saved my life that day in the basement."
"My hand was just as steady, when I buried the bastard's pen in his neck. His blood sprayed across my face." He holds up his fist, now clenched around the ruined handkerchief.
"And I'll never forget that." It’s why I tolerate his general fuckedupedness, not that I trust him or anything. I crack my neck, "Don't underestimate me or the rest of the Seven."
"I can assure you that I don’t spend any time thinking of the rest of you. Speaking of, to complete the point of this tedious exercise, all I can say is, do whatever the fuck you must to get her out of your system. Don’t get entangled with her."
Too late.
"You feel me, Sin?"
Fucker's right. Again. That’s what I should have done. That’s what I had been planning to do. That’s where it had been headed. Me taking advantage of her, bending her to my will, forcing her to particpate in my plan to bring her old man out of hiding, and making him pay for everything. No, we are not going to leave it up to the law. The thing about money? When you have enough of it, you can use it to mask all of your sins. Except me, of course. I use my wealth to amplify my reach, to ensure I am never forgotten. To imprint my mark on the revenge that we have been planning all of these years. And then I had to go and mess it all up.
Okay, so maybe that’s not entirely true. Maybe I’m not giving myself enough credit for my strategy, or my instincts, for that matter. "Don’t get your knickers in a twist, ol’ chap," I spread my arms, "This is all part of a plan."
"It is?"
I nod, "I needed to find a way to tie her to me in a way that would convince Adam it’s serious."
He rubs his jaw. "Hmm."
"What?"
"Don’t believe you."
"What-fucking-ever."
"You should never have embarked on this slippery slope. You could have just had her move in with you, pretend to be in a relationship."
"Like you know so much about relationships, huh?"
"Hey, I know how to avoid them, and have been far more successful at it than you, or the rest of the Seven, for that matter."
He’s right, of course.
All of us—with the exception of Edward—have played the field, and well, you don’t dip your dick in pussy without occasionally something sticking to it, if you get my drift. What? So, I am an uncouth bugger. I may wear £10,000 suits, get chauffeured around in an Aston Martin, and never fly commercial, doesn’t mean I can’t tell it like it is, huh?
"I wouldn’t count preferring to pay for liaisons as experience."
He stares at me, then chuckles. His shoulders shake so hard that he has to hold onto the edge of the bar counter.
I frown. "What’s so funny?"
"You, douchebag. You, who’s gonna pay for the biggest fuckin’ mistake of your life."
"You’re getting on my nerves." I stalk toward the phone on the conference table, reach for it, and depress the speaker phone.
"Sin?" Meredith comes on the line.
"Call Security," I growl.
There’s a pause, then, "Is this about Saint?"
"How did you guess?"
"Because whenever you two speak, one or the other threatens to call Security on the other. Don’t waste my time, I have a lot to do."
The dial tone rings out.
