Page 107 of The Billionaire's Secret
"Perhaps it’s time to get this shit-show on the road, huh?"
"We’re waiting for Jace and Sienna," Weston takes a sip of the champagne. "You stock good stuff, at least. I’ll give you that."
"Enjoy it, asshole. You’re paying for it, after all."
Weston makes a tsk’ing sound, "Someone’s nervous."
"Bitch!" I grumble, "I can’t wait for it to be your turn. I’ll fucking gloat."
"Sure. Considering I am not about to fall into the trap anytime soon."
A laugh peels out. He glowers across the room. I follow the direction of his gaze to where Amelie is talking with the other women. Amelie gesticulates excitedly, then props a hand on her hip. She tosses her hair, thrusts out a hand, in what I assume is a punchline in her joke. Summer and Isla laugh.
"That woman, she's bloody annoying."
"Who?" I ask, taking in Victoria's erect figure as she stands silent, her lips curved in the makings of a smile.
"Amelie," he snorts, "she talks too much, laughs too much, and have you noticed what she's wearing?"
"Huh?" I glance at her dress, "What's wrong with it?"
"Too much skin." He looks her up and down, "Her legs are too long for her dress. And her hair... Why is she wearing it up? And those fuck me heels? Seriously, you'd think she was trying to attract every male in the vicinity."
"You're attracted to her?"
He laughs, "Not bloody likely." He continues to watch her. "She's not my type."
Amelie turns her head, catches his eye. She draws herself up to her full height and flips him the bird, then turns her back on him.
"What the fuck—?" he sputters.
I laugh, "Yep, she's definitely not your type."
"What do you mean?"
"She has too much spirit for you."
"Hmm." He strokes his chin. "Maybe, maybe not."
Amelie whispers in Victoria's ear and Victoria's smile broadens. Her features light up. My breath catches. She's beautiful, the woman I'm about to marry.
I roll my shoulders.
Married?I am fucking getting married. Had it been a moment of insanity when I’d told her to get hitched to me? Or… I can’t stop my gaze from wandering over her curves. At least, she’s not wearing black. Red. That’s her color. Her dress is conservatively cut, but it clings to her body, highlighting those high perky breasts, the swell of her hips, those long, long legs that I want wrapped around my waist...my head—No, not yet. First, I am going to bend her over and take her from behind as I’ve promised myself. Sheath myself in her virgin hole…Fuck.My dick lengthens. I’ve never cared before about being any woman’s first in any way…but with Gigi… Something about her makes me want to claim every new experience of hers. She is mine to own. To break. To possess. To use in getting to my final goal.
I pull out my phone, cue it up, then hand it over to Weston.
"What’s that?"
“Ask the staff to cue it up over the speakers in the room, will you?"
"Now?"
"Right away."
He snatches up the phone and walks off.
My heart begins to race. Sweat beads my temples. I curl my hands at my sides, then glance over again.
