Page 258 of Double or Nothing

Tonight, I agreed to destroy it.

Still, I choke it down and paste the Parker face back on with everything I have. At least for a few more minutes. I’ve got something I need to say.

I walk back out into the marquee to my husband to be. I wait until there’s a pause in the celebration and lean into my new darling.

“Cunt,” I say.

“Sorry?”

“You heard what I said,” I whisper. “I thought your dad was dying, you piece of shit.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t even try it with the denial, Christopher. I hear Miami is going to be very sunny for a golf club visit. Next October.”

There isn’t even a hint of apology on his face when his eyes bore into mine.

“You found that out pretty quickly, Alice. Who filled you in on the news?”

“Someone who actually gives a fucking shit about me, you cat torturing bastard.”

Christopher’s grip on my wrist is so fierce under the table, I can already feel the bruising. The glare he gives me is cold as ice, despite his fake smile.

I get shivers when he leans into me, pressing his lips to my ear.

“That someone wouldn’t happen to be Bryce Maddocks, would it? On behalf of his wonderful friend, Jack Reid?”

I tense in his grip.

“Thought so,” he says. “Just be careful, Alice. Play too far out of line and I might have to tell your daddy.” He pauses. “I’ll let you in on another little secret, shall I? A true one this time. Your father knows full well you’re slutting it up with a sleaze of a casino player, that’s why the ring was put on your finger the first opportunity it could be. But as for Bryce… he still thinks he’s on his side. His loyal companion.”

My blood turns cold.

No.

My plan to throw the ring in Christopher’s face turns to dust as his devious eyes meet mine.

“If you give two fucks about Bryce Maddocks, sweetheart, you’ll be a good girl and keep your daddy out of the picture. I’ll keep the secret, if you will.”

He lets me go, kisses my cheek for the onlookers. Basks in the attention like I’m his treasured prize.

But there’s evil in his eyes as well as his heart. The sadist sonofabitch is still there, under the surface. He’s just got more strength now he’s older.

He’d be throwing more than rocks from a slingshot if he took on Bryce at Parker Capital.

He’d throw daggers that would slice Bryce to shreds and leave his decades of achievements in the dirt.

And all the while, while Bryce was kneeling in the wreckage, he’d be laughing at him. Laughing at his piss poor achievements and lack of status in life. Golf buddy daddy, or no.

Just like he did when we were kids.

“Now,” my fiancé says, offering me a glass of champagne. “To us.”

I take the glass, my hand trembling.

I hesitate.

I want to throw it in his smug face.