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The club was exclusive. Only members of the Golden Society were allowed in. There weren’t any windows and there was a strict no cell phone policy. What happened in the club, stayed in the club. Talking about anything that was said or done outside of the club walls was forbidden. It was the one place the men of our elite society could go and blow off some steam without worrying about someone recording it and blackmailing them later.
I spotted Charles among the group of gentlemen and joined their circle. “Gentlemen,” I said, nodding, and took a seat in one of the overstuffed leather chairs.
A few of the men looked a little worse for wear, a clear sign they enjoyed the flowing alcohol a little too much.
“You look like you slept like a baby,” Charles said.
“I did,” I said, nodding. “You didn’t?”
“I couldn’t stop worrying about what it’s going to be like to be married,” Charles said, sighing.
“I imagine it will be like living with your mother,” one of the guys said with a laugh. “A woman telling you when to eat, sleep, and arranging your schedule. She’s going to dress you and want to buy pillows and candles all day. You’ll be expected to acknowledge every new pillow and praise her for her amazing decorating skills.”
“Have you been married before?” I asked.
“My friend got married last year,” he said, laughing. “I’ve witnessed his emasculation firsthand. I’m never going to let my wife do that to me. I’m the king of the castle—literally.”
I didn’t know him, but I knew he wasn’t a king or a prince. I knew most of the royals that were a part of the society. He wasn’t one of them.
“Matthew, I think you’re missing the bigger picture,” Charles said.
“What would that be?”
“Uh, I would think that’s obvious,” Charles said, laughing. “You will have a woman warming your bed every night.”
Matthew’s lip curled up. “I’ve been matched with a fat sausage.”
I was immediately disgusted by his comment. I didn’t get to say anything because he started on a rant about all the horrible qualities of his future wife.
“I’ll get an heir or two, but I will have to be extremely drunk and blindfolded,” he muttered.
“If you are so appalled by her, why not break the match?” I asked.
“That’s whatyourfamily does,” he sneered. “I won’t break the match. She’s cousin to the future king of Spain. The match is very, very profitable. I think I can fuck just about anything if I’m paid heartily.”
I wasn’t the only one disgusted by his language. But this was the way this shit happened. I felt sorry for his future wife. I hoped she broke the match and left the asshole high and dry.
Matthew got up to peruse the assortment of cigars offered to club members.
Charles quickly attempted to change the subject, which I appreciated. “You know, Theo,” he began with a big smile. “You’ve got the prettiest one of the bunch. She’s stunning.”
I chuckled, finding the comment harmless enough. “I agree, my match is quite beautiful. I am very pleased. I’m hoping we can find some solid ground to build a healthy relationship on.”
But the conversation took a sour turn when Matthew felt the need to interject his opinion. “Hey, Theo, how fast do you think you can get her into bed?” His tone was crude. The way he said it made my skin crawl. To know he was leering at Emilie pissed me off.
The comment hit me like a slap in the face, and my temper flared. He had crossed the boundaries of decency, and I couldn’t stand for it.
Before I could even think, I jumped out of my seat. “That’s enough,” I snapped, my gaze locked onto the asshole. “We do not speak of ladies in such a manner. Have some fucking respect.”
Tension hung in the air, and for a moment, it seemed as though the situation might escalate into a fight. Matthew was glaring at me, but I knew guys like him. Their mouths were the strongest muscle they had. He was a big talker but he could never back it up.
Charles stepped between me and the insulting asshole. “Easy there, Theo,” he said calmly, placing a hand on my shoulder. “No need to get aggressive.”
I took a deep breath, trying to calm the surge of anger that had bubbled up. Even though I barely knew my potential bride, I felt a protectiveness toward Emilie that ran deep. I would not stand by and allow anyone to dishonor her name or her virtue. Especially from a pig like Matthew.
The gentlemen’s club was meant for camaraderie and conversation, not for crude remarks and disrespect. I knew locker room talk was common, but Matthew was different. He was insulting and revolting. He was supposed to be an English gentleman.
I nodded at Charles and stepped back. Matthew smirked and cut the tip of his cigar before lighting it.
