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“With Amélie and Henri involved, I’m sure twisted is not the right word,” I quip, making him chuckle.
My phone buzzes, garnering my attention. I hold up my finger, signaling for him to wait as I pull it from my breast pocket.
Parasite: What are you doing at a sex club, Sebastian?
Parasite: You wouldn’t want me to push a little button and eliminate Owen from this life, would you?
I growl at the sight of her threats.
“Samantha?” Matthieu guesses.
“The one and only leech,” I mutter, sliding my phone back into my suit pocket. “Another reason why we want to move things along. She’s getting increasingly demanding. Constant threats toward people I love. To put it simply, she must go.”
He rubs at his newly grown beard. “I could just have her killed. Why go to these lengths?”
I wish it were that simple. I’d have killed her months ago.
“Unfortunately, she holds the power at this time.”
His eyes narrow in confusion. “Explain.”
“When Owen was taken, a chip was implanted in his arm, and Samantha has the device controlling it,” I explain.
Matthieu grimaces, “I see now why it’s so important you get the information you need.”
My cellphone vibrates again. The steady hum lets me know it’s a call this time and not a text. Matthieu nods his head when I request another moment.
Pulling the device from my pocket, I see that Samantha is now calling me. I hit ignore, but the phone rings almost immediately after I rejected her call.
Annoyed, I answer, “What the fuck do you want?”
She tsks. “Is that any way to treat your fiancée?” Her voice grates my nerves.
“In title alone because, like Vivian, you just don’t know when to let go. With any luck, you’ll meet the same fate. So, I’ll ask you again, what the fuck do you want, Samantha?”
“Fine, get your ass back here. We have a meeting with the wedding planner, and you all need to be in attendance,” she demands.
I snort. “We haven’t been involved with planning any part of this sham, and I’m busy at the moment.”
“It’s almost like none of you care about Owen. You’re all always testing the limits of my patience,” she shrieks, and I can almost see her stomping her foot like a toddler in full tantrum mode. “You’ll get back here now and take the dick that belongs to me out of any?—”
I end the call, wasting no time, turning my phone on do not disturb.
“Was that wise?” Matthieu questions.
“As much as Samantha believes she’s in control, she’s not. If she ever did activate the chip, killing Owen, she’d die.”
Matthieu’s office phone rings, and I wait while he answers it. “What do you mean Miss Davenport is on the line for me?”
My jaw clenches at the level of audacity and stupidity this girl possesses.
“Fine, put her through,” he instructs before hitting the button for speakerphone. “What can I do for you, Miss Davenport? Senator Baker’s appointment isn’t until October, and only he can call in and request any addendums.” Matthieu’s aloof tone expresses his annoyance.
“Well, if you let my fiancé into your club to fuck some random girl, I’ll ruin?—”
“If,” Matthieu barks, silencing her. “If I did let your fiancé in my club, it wouldn’t be any of your fucking business, little girl. Don’t call my office threatening me. You don’t want to experience what happens to those who do. Now, I suggest you go sulk over the perceived infidelity of your fiancé and get the fuck off my phone.”
He doesn’t wait for a response before he ends the call.
