Page 117 of The Billionaire's Secret
"The fuck?" I jerk my chin over her head. "You tell that motherfucker to stay away from me and my wife and one more thing—"
"Wh…what?"
Sweat beads her upper lip.Good god, isn’t there anyone who can talk to me without looking like they are about to have a coronary? Yeah, that’s where the Seven come in.Fuckers can be counted on taking me down a notch at any time. And her, of course. She can go toe to toe with me. I frown.How dare she?She is going to be taught a lesson, all right.
"Uh… Mr. Caldwell," the waitress stutters.
"Make sure I’m not disturbed again."
I slam the door in her ashen face.Good, no one should be happy today.This wedding isn’t a cause for celebration. It is…a fucking massacre. Mine…and hers. I am sinking into a maelstrom of emotions, caught in a quicksand that threatens to overwhelm me. Soon, I will be in over my head. Only thing? I am taking her down with me.
I shove the cart into the bedroom.
"Saint?" Victoria gasps, "Who…was that?"
"Not your concern."
"Why do you sound angry?" she scowls.
"I’m not angry."
"Are you hungry?"
"Are you?"
"So, you’re hungry." She nods.
"I’m not, and I told you to keep your mouth shut, didn’t I?"
"Definitely hangry."
"I’m not a fucking child," I scowl.
"You’re acting like one." Her lips curve. The glistening flesh calls to me. I could forget all this. I could walk over, kiss her, untie her, throw her on the bed, climb on top of the bed and bury my aching cock inside her soft, gorgeous, heated pussy. I could—
"Saint."
"What?" I growl, shaking my head.Jesus, being this close to her is doing weird things to my head. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I am hungry. Is that why I am feeling lightheaded?
She shuffles her feet, "Did you order us something to eat."
I sneer, "I ordered something all right."
28
Victoria
He prowls closer, his footsteps muffled by the carpet as he approaches. The creaking of wheels gets louder—he definitely ordered something. That is a food cart, isn’t it? The clank of silverware, of plates being moved around, reaches me.
I sense him shift his weight. There’s silence then a pop. I jump. "What the—?"
"Relax," he laughs. "Thought the occasion called for some bubbles, don’t you think?"
I worry my lower lip.Should I agree?I swallow and my throat protests. Cold, bubbly champagne. I hadn’t managed to nick a glass at the wedding— at my own wedding. I worry the ring on my left ring finger. The weight is already familiar.Damn, that’s not good. I won’t be wearing it for much longer, after all.
The sound of liquid hitting a glass reaches me. My tongue swells. I lick my lips.
"Want a sip, darlin’?"
