Page 33 of Their Tracked Obsession

“Why don’t you take your champagne and shove it up your—” I stopped talking when Liv squeezed my arm.

“Yes, please.” Liv giggled nervously and clenched her teeth together. “We’d love champagne. Wouldn’t we, Sin?”

Liv pinched her fingernails into my skin.

Aw, fucking sweet. Foreplay. I’d play along. Pierre would watch.

“Sure.” I smiled.

“Okay. Why don’t you all take a seat?” Pierre sat three flutes on the table.

Everything was too fucking fancy for my taste. Elegant. White, gold, and glossy. It was so goddamn bright that the sight gave me a headache.

Liv let go of me. I pressed the tips of my fingers into the right side of my temple and tossed my leather jacket over the back of the chair. Might as well get comfy before I have to deal with this bullshit.

Trust me. I wanted to be here for Liv and experience this with her, but not with this dickhead. Why does our girl have to be so fucking hot?

Pierre’s profession was to create delicious, savory cakes for us to decide on for our wedding. He was aware of this, but as soon as Liv leaned over to take a seat, he ogled her tits. He couldn’t keep his goddamn eyes in check.

One wrong move, Pierre. If he put a single fucking hand on Liv, he’d be sorry—no, he wouldn’t be. He’d be dead.

Pierre poured the champagne while he made eye contact with Liv. She moved nervously in her seat and flashed me a warning. Don’t.

Why not, sweetheart? Because I’d create a fucking scene with his blood splashed all over the goddamn trashy tablecloth. Or how about his eyes? I wanted to pluck his eyeballs out of his skull and leave them as a gift for his employees in one of his fucking cakes.

“Thank you, Pierre.” Liv touched the bottle to get him to stop. “But I think I’ll take a glass of milk.”

“Milk?” Pierre questioned with his eyebrows narrowed together. “Are you sure?”

I slammed my hand down on the table, causing Liv to jump, and I realized my mistake. I wanted this to be an enjoyable experience, not a shitty one. Christ. I was a dick. But so was this Pierre, who looked at me as if he were scared.

Good. That’s how I wanted him—fucking petrified.

“Just do as Liv wants. Okay?” I shooed Pierre with my hand and put emphasis on a word. “Hurry along. Go fetch our bride some milk.”

“I’ll get someone else to fetch her a glass,” Pierre insisted as he shot me a smile which I knew deep down in my bones was fake as fuck and he only put on a goddamn show. “Because I have my babies to show you.”

His babies? What the fuck? This asshole was full of himself.

I felt as if I were in some circus when Pierre clapped his hands and the lights dimmed. It was like some sort of goddamn musical act as music came on and spotlights lit up tables as the cakes were wheeled in. Fuck. My head spun. I couldn’t wait for this elaborate display to end.

“Oh, wow…” Liv sighed in awe.

Women. Figures. Pierre probably got laid because of the shit he pulled out of his ass.

I wonder how many weddings he has destroyed? Well, he wasn’t going to fuck with mine.

I pulled Liv’s chair closer, right until she brushed my side. She parted her lips with a surprised gasp and smiled with delight. Her eyes were incredibly radiant and twinkled with the dancing light. She was so damn gorgeous, and we were lucky sons of bitches to have fate choose us to be by her side for the rest of our lives.

“You enjoying this shit?” I asked Liv in her ear.

Liv touched my cheek. “Only with you both here.”

Liv reached out for Saint’s hand across the table, and he accepted it. He gave her a squeeze, and she smiled at him. I could hear his heart skip a beat. He was as devoted to her as I was, completely taken by her and head over heels for all eternity.

Suddenly, the music cut and the fucking cake concert stopped. All the pastries were present, and an employee delivered Liv her glass of milk. Pierre stood there appearing way too fucking pleased, and he made a move toward our table.

Saint put his arm out. “I think we’ve seen enough.”