The Auction (Club Indulgence Duet, #1)(86)

I rise. "Once again, it shouldn't be a problem signing it if you have no intentions of anything inappropriate happening." I lean down into his ear. "Also, if you ever touch her, the contract will be the last of your worries."

He turns his head. "Is that a threat?"

"No." I squeeze my hand on his shoulder until he winces. I add, "It's a solemn promise. Hands off my wife at all times. If I find out you've touched her, all of L.A. will be searching for your body. Understand me?"

He clenches his jaw, his face turning a tad red.

"Thought so." I release his shoulder and leave the diner. I go directly to work, and when I get to our floor, I go to Hugh's personal office.

He's drinking scotch, pacing the office, and growls, "Where have you been?"

"I told you I was taking care of personal business," I calmly state.

"My life is falling apart, and you skip town? Don't you care about our company?" he accuses.

I pretend to look concerned. "Why? What's happened with the company? Has money been stolen from our bank accounts?"

He snaps his mouth shut and spins toward the window. Then he runs his shaking hand through his hair. He quietly states, "No, the business accounts are fine."

I offer, "You might want to lay off the booze. It's ten A.M."

He angrily spins back to me. "Do you have any idea what I'm going through?"

"Do you need a loan? I've got plenty of money if you need it," I taunt.

His face turns purple. He spits, "This isn't a joke, Riggs."

I hold my hands up in the air. "Never said anything of the sort. I'm only trying to help my partner and friend."

He peers at me, interrogating, "Where were you for the last two weeks?"

"Sorry, but none of your business. You know my personal life is off-limits," I remind him.

His eyes turn to slits. "That's convenient for you."

"Meaning?" I challenge.

There's a knock on the door. My assistant has a nervous look on her face. Her eyes dart between Hugh and me.

I ask, "What's going on, Connie?"

She clears her throat. "The CEOs from Windemere are here in the conference room."

"Is the paperwork in order?" I question.

"Yes. I sent it to you last night."

"I reviewed it on the plane. Please tell them I'll be right in."

She gives me a tentative smile. "Okay, thank you." She leaves.

I watch her walk away, then turn back to Hugh.

He finishes his drink, then states, "Let's go."

I step between him and the door. "No."

"What do you mean no?"

I declare, "You're in no state to go into that conference room."

"This is my company," he claims.

I cross my arms. "It's your company? The last time I checked, we were fifty-fifty partners."

"The last time I checked, I had the final say," he throws in my face.

"So what? Your personal life's blowing up, so you're going to blow up our company as well?" I accuse.

He scowls.

I add, "Do you think if you go in there drunk at ten in the morning, they'll sign the paperwork, trusting their life's work to us?"

Hugh squeezes his eyes shut, then rubs his forehead.

I soften my tone. "I know you're in the shitter here, but you need to be smart. You are not going into that conference room. Now, sober up." I shut the door and go into the meeting.

I shake hands with the CEOs. We get into all the details, and while they're signing the paperwork, I pull out my burner phone under the table. I send Hugh a photo of the back of Blakely in her wedding dress. It's one of my favorite pictures of her. She's turning her head and blowing me a kiss.

I also send a message with it.

Me: She's mine. Forever.





He replies with a slew of messages, but I don't look at them. I turn off my phone, slide it back into my pants pocket, and finish the meeting.

Once everything is secure, I see the clients to the elevator, then go to my office.

Hugh storms into the room, seething, "That bastard's at it again." He shows me the text messages and photo.

I pretend to look shocked. "She's married?"

"Motherfucker," he utters.

"You better figure out who that is."

"Like I don't know that. What do you think I've been trying to do?" he barks.

I sigh. "Hugh, you need to go home. You're not in any shape to stay at the office. The last thing we need is business going down or the staff scared."

He shakes his head and starts pacing in front of my window.

I reiterate, "Hugh, this isn't the time to be here. Go home."

He finally gives up and leaves.

I sit back in my chair, staring out at the L.A. skyline, thinking about how sweet revenge is when karma bites those who have it coming to them.

I pick up my phone and text Blakely.

Me: Put on the black leather one-piece and garter. Wear your wedding collar.





Blakely: Where should I kneel, Sir?





Me: On top of the piano.