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Fucking moron.
“Of course he did,” Wes snorts, untwisting the cap of his bottled water. He brings it to his mouth and takes a swig before he continues. “It’s comical how the Senator convinced people he’d protect them.”
Humming my agreement, I add, “Their arrogance makes them like shooting fish in a barrel.”
Wyatt snickers. “Which is an insult to fish everywhere.”
We strategize the remainder of the ride to the club and can’t wait to give Grady the day he deserves.
Once security waves us through the gated entrance, we drive a couple of minutes to the underground parking garage, where Owen pulls into the assigned parking spot.
“Which room do you think we should use tonight?” Wyatt asks as we walk toward the elevators.
Mulling over his question, I grab my badge from my jeans pocket and scan it before replying, “Any one on the basement floor will more than suffice. Every room down there is designed for its victims to enter but never leave, at least not alive anyway.”
“Fuck yes! Time to carve the Christmas ham,” Owen gleefully announces.
The elevator comes to a stop, opening to the entryway of Le Toucher. “Welcome back, gentlemen,” R’chelle greets with her megawatt smile.
“Chelly,” I reply. “A pleasure as always. Is Matthieu waiting for us in his office.?”
She nods. “Yes, he’s been expecting you. I called him once security let you in.” Then, she walks us down to Matthieu’s office and knocks.
“Come in,” the brute grunts before she opens the door.
Matthieu stands in front of his desk, brutally slamming his dick down some naked girl’s throat. He fists her black hair, ripping himself from her mouth and coming all over her face. He releases his hold, and she drops to the floor at his feet. That’s when I notice who it is.
“Go clean yourself up, Isabella, and get the fuck out of my sight,” Matthieu growls.
Wasting no time, the President’s daughter scurries from the room. “Have a great meeting,” R’chelle says as she closes the door.
By the time I look back around, Matthieu’s tucking his dick away as he rounds his desk. “Grady will be in the Purgatory den,” Matthieu informs us once we take our seats.
“Are we all just going to pretend you didn’t just nut all over the President’s daughter’s face?” Wyatt chuckles.
My lips part to say much of the same when something glints in the light. “Is that a wedding ring?” I ask, staring at the onyx band covered in black diamonds sitting on Matthieu’s left ring finger.
Smirking, he turns the ring. “It is. Isabella and I were married this morning.”
“How exactly did you convince Isabella to marry you?” I ask, rubbing the bridge of my nose.
Matthieu isn’t an impulsive man. Which means this was his plan from the start. “As if she had a choice,” he exclaims. “If she didn’t want me to tank her father’s re-election campaign by releasing the videos of her at one of my many different sex clubs, her only option was to say ‘I do.’”
“Ariah would serve us our freshly severed balls if we ever attempted that,” Lev states.
“I don’t doubt that for a minute,” Matthieu responds.
Scratching my chin, I watch my friend intently. The smug asshole is preening. “And how did you manage to get the President to call off the search?” I probe. “Because I can’t imagine a world where Jonas Atwater lets you marry his daughter.”
The smile momentarily slips from Matthieu’s face as his jaw ticks. Then, the muscles in his face relax into a sly grin. “Bella’s family were all in attendance. Our virtual witnesses, if you will,” he replies.
Sighing, I shake my head, hoping Matthieu doesn’t believe he’s won. With everything I know about Isabella, she’s no wallflower. I’ll be shocked if she isn’t biding her time before she strikes. It’s exactly what Ariah would do.
“You better sleep with one eye open,” Owen offers, “Unless, of course, you’re looking forward to the fights that will undoubtedly come.”
Matthieu’s grin grows. “You leave Isabella to me. She’ll quickly learn just how much she belongs to me.”
Skeptically, I nod and let him hang on to the illusion that he has complete power over his new wife. “If you’re so confident, put your money where your mouth is,” I challenge.
