“I love you too, Dad,” I reply past the lump in my throat, then hang up.
When I pick back up the burner, five messages await me.
Unknown: I don’t want you leaving that house, Emma.
Unknown: Nothing you have to speak to me about is worth risking the twins or your safety. Promise me you won’t leave.
Unknown: I’m sure we can discuss this over text message. If need be, a call.
Unknown: You better not have left the house.
Unknown: Emma???
Geez. Everyone’s laying it on thick tonight.
Massaging between my brows, I begin responding.
Me: Sorry. I was speaking with my dad.
Me: I already promised him I’d stay put. But I really need to talk to you and I’m not sure text or a phone call are the best way to go about it.
Three dots appear before I continue. I stop texting, waiting to see her reply.
Unknown: If you have your laptop nearby, I’ll send you a VPN number. We can connect that way.
I exit my closet, grabbing my laptop before returning and sitting on the sofa. The number comes through moments later, and I quickly sign on.
My eyes nearly pop out of my head. The woman, the one I’ve been talking and planning with. The one Tamara introduced me to as one of the Princeps. It’s. . . it can’t be. I blink, double-checking my eyes aren’t playing tricks on me.
No longer able to hold back, I blurt, “Holy fucking shit. It’s you.”
SEBASTIAN
Senator Matthew Baker is a dead man. Obviously, our warnings haven’t been enough to relay our message-fuck with her, and it’s game over. Our hands were tied before, but now, nothing will hold us back.
“We’ve got Grady. Can we have him delivered to Le Toucher?” Liam asks, looking over his left shoulder at me from the front seat.
My lips curl in smug satisfaction at how quickly the vermin was rounded up. “For what we have in store-yes.”
There’s no way we’d interrogate the dumb fuck at the house. If I had it my way, Emma would never see or know danger ever again, but I know her, and that will never happen. That doesn’t mean we need to bring the threat directly to her doorstep, especially with some of the complications she’s been experiencing.
“King found him pretty quickly,” August states.
Liam shakes his head. “It wasn’t King this time. Thomas sent out a team. Grady was far too easy to find to involve King.”
“Where was the prick hiding?” Karl inquires from the driver’s seat.
“His office,” Liam replies. “The idiot thought he could sneak in through the basement and not get caught.”
Fucking moron.
“Of course he did,” Rowan 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.”
August 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 Karl pulls into the assigned parking spot.
“Which room do you think we should use tonight?” August 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,” Karl 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?” August 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.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.