Page 106 of The Billionaire's Secret
Sinclair’s face lights up. He pivots, moves toward them.
"Pussy-whipped." Weston shakes his head, "The man who couldn’t stand to be among people, now willingly allows himself to be drawn into the midst of a crowd." He makes a gagging sound.
"I heard you," Sinclair glowers at him over his shoulder. "I’ll get back at you for this, tosser."
"Too fucking late," Weston mutters. "He’s sinking, man, and he isn’t even aware of it.’
I watch as Sinclair stalks over to Summer. He wraps his arm around the tiny woman, draws her into his side. She literally melts into him and he nuzzles her hair.
A waitress materializes next to Damian. "God help us. I need a drink." He takes the glass of champagne, glances at the hem of her skirt, which barely reaches mid-thigh.
"When do you get off?"
She bats her eyelids, "Anytime you want."
He downs his drink in one shot. Then hands the empty glass to me.
"The fuck?" I frown, "What are you up to?"
He takes the tray with the remaining drink glasses from her, and thrusts it at Weston, who grunts, "Don’t make too much noise, will ya?"
Damian smirks at the girl, "You heard that. I am going to make you scream like you never have before."
Her chest heaves. "I can’t wait," she breathes.
He jerks his chin, then stalks to the exit.
"The fuck is he going?"
"I think he’s cutting his losses." Weston reaches for a flute.
I take it from him, replacing it with Damian's empty one. "Thanks." I toss it back. The champagne goes down smoothly. "I’ll be billing you guys for the expenses of this rush job, of course.”
"You’re a real piece of shit, you know that?" Weston drawls. "The least you could do is pay for your own wedding."
"Wasn’t my idea to have it here in this hotel, losing business for the time we have to shut it down for the ceremony."
His jaw drops. "You serious?"
"Of course." I grab another flute of Champagne from a passing waitress.
“There wasn’t anything else scheduled for this room a couple of hours ago, you cheap (insert insult of your choice). Were you expecting a last-minute booking?”
I shrug, “Maybe.”
He hands the half-filled tray over to the woman, then grabs two glasses for himself.
The waitress hesitates, then glances at me, "Congratulations, Sir."
"Fuck off," I growl.
She pales, then scurries off.
"Take it easy, man," Weston cautions.
"What-fucking-ever." I glance around the room, filled with the Seven who are in town…and Summer and her girlfriends.
Victoria glances up at me, her face pale. Her gaze flicks to the door, then she looks away.Fuck.I can see the hollows under her cheekbones. Has she eaten anything at all?
