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Dr. fucking Hillsboro. The only urges that man had to be concerned about inducing were those of extreme bodily harm.
“Once again, you’re spot-on, Mother dear,” Errol said, taking a bite of his filet. “She is rather insatiable.”
Oddly, Ariana fumed as Birdie whipped her head his direction. He stared her down, daring her to correct him. Instead of calling him out, she pasted a plastic smile on her face, showing quite of bit of teeth and replied, “You would know, dear.”
What a despicable toad.
She had locked her bedroom door every night since returning to this monkish, catacomb of a freakish mausoleum.
After a few more frontal attacks from Ariana, targeted toward both Flynn and Birdie, the heinous woman finally stood, announcing to the table she was going to retire, as if it were some sort of regal protocol.
Flynn instantly jerked back his chair. “I’ll walk you to your room, Mother.”
He stumbled his way to her side as she rolled her eyes and took his arm with a sour look on her face.
Two down, one to go.
Birdie placed her napkin on the table, praying for one more night of solitude.
Instead, Errol dashed her hopes as she was halfway out of her seat by stating, “Birdie, I will be expecting you this evening.”
Sighing, she sat back in her chair. “I’m not feeling well tonight. It was a long day.”
Ignoring her, he continued, “I have arranged for a nightgown to be placed on your bed. Be sure to have it on when you arrive.”
Oh, God, it was time to pay up. How in the world was she going to manage doing it without losing what little she ate of her dinner?
“I really wish you would give me one more evening to myself.”
Out of nowhere, Errol placed a document beside her dinner plate. “Sign this,” he said, wiping his mouth with his napkin.
She read the first few lines. “I’ve already signed an NDA.”
“This is a more specific one. Regarding activities in the bedroom.”
Good Lord, what kind of shit did he intend to do to her? Was he going to beat her or expect her to participate in some sort of twisted blood-letting ritual?
She read a few more lines of text and side-eyed him. “An NDA doesn’t legally protect you from causing me physical harm. You know that, right?”
“Please, I’m not an animal,” he said arrogantly.
He certainly looked like a weasel. Like a sleazy version of Mr. Bean wearing a three-piece suit. Errol must have been the only man on Earth who donned a bespoke suit worth around $10K that didn’t do a damned thing for him.
He stood, as if dismissing her requests. “I’ll expect you in my room, in your newly purchased nightgown, within the next thirty minutes.” He grabbed her chin, the most physical force he had exerted on her yet, and pulled it up so she had no choice but to look at him.
“We had a deal. It’s time for you to pay up. Do not disappoint me.”
* * *
Birdie stoodoutside Errol’s door. The door that used to be the one to her bedroom when the house belonged to her and Marshall.
Her husband, in name only, was sure to give her the best of everything whenever possible. The nicest bedroom with the most gorgeous view overlooking the Charles River. The best wardrobe money could buy, and the most prestigious schools for Mia to attend.
What he never asked for in return was the use of her body.
How a man with such scruples could sire a degenerate son such as Errol was beyond her.
But she had to remember her staunch commitment to finding evidence against him, and to finally gain revenge for what Errol had done to her family and to protect them from him in the future.
