Apparently, he was just waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
“The one and only.”
I fail to see how I can help him, but I still ask, “What kind of favor do you want?”
“His oldest daughter is your wife’s best friend. Her name is Psyche.”
The name rings a bell, and I remember reading a report on her while studying her picture. “She has an issue with her leg from a dangerous fall.”
“Nothing surgery won’t fix, but her stepmother won’t pay for it.” I don’t miss how his voice strains. “Either way…she is the sole heir to her mother’s fortune, and her father loves her.”
Debatable. When you love your kid, you don’t let anyone, let alone your wife, mistreat them.
“I’m still failing to see what the favor is.”
“The favor is the following: whenever I need your help with Psyche…you will do what I ask, even if it might anger your wife. Agree now, or I won’t make the call to Kian.”
I straighten up. “I won’t promise anything. If you plan to do some bullshit…”
“No,” he snaps, twisting the butt of the smoke in the nearest surface, clearly not caring about the furniture we’ll throw out anyway. “I won’t hurt her physically, but she’s a weapon I want to use against her father if necessary. Our methods aren’t always nice, and we both know it. Your wife might have an issue with that, and you have to promise to stand by me. And I promise that whatever I do won’t be dangerous to Psyche or force her into anything.”
We assess one another for a few beats before I finally extend my hand. “We have a deal, but if you ever go back on it, or Psyche comes running crying to me? The deal is off.”
As a child of an abusive father who led a double life, I would never ignore a woman’s cry for help.
“Deal.” He fishes out his phone and presses something on the screen, then raises it to his ear. In a second, he says, “Kian, remember that ring you designed?” He walks off to hash out the details when my own phone rings.
I see Matilda’s name flashing on the screen and pick it up. “Hello?”
“Mr. Wright, I’m calling to inform you that dinner will be served in an hour.”
“What?” Glancing at the crooked clock hanging on the wall, I realize it’s seven already. “Since when do you inform me about such things?” I haven’t had dinner at home in forever, and whenever I actually show my face at the mansion, it is to either crash or recharge.
The only reason I’m still keeping the property and keeping all the staff on is out of respect. They’ve worked for my family since I was born, and Matilda was my nanny once upon a time.
Even if the woman is anal about the rules that make zero sense, not that I question her about them.
“Mr. Wright, you’re married now, and per rules, the married couple dines together in this house.”
Despite coming here and getting the ring, I plan to ignore my wife because if I see her in my house wearing my ring while she eats my food?
Yeah, I might just throw everything from the table and take her right there if she’s willing.
It’s a disaster in the making, and I won’t subject myself to such torture because I’m not strong enough to withstand it.
“I don’t care about the rules, Matilda. I’m not coming, so don’t wait up for me.”
“You will come to dinner and dine with your new bride, Mr. Wright, or so help me God,” she almost screeches into the phone, then hangs up on me.
For Matilda to lose her temper like this, she must really care about this dinner. Although I can’t remember my parents ever dining together, but then again, they aren’t a great example since my father never respected his marriage.
I would have still ignored it, except I know Matilda well. When she’s annoyed, she tends to choose the target to unload her frustration on. If I don’t show up, she will take it out on Diana, and that’s unacceptable.
So even if it kills me, I will go and have dinner with my wife.
Let’s just hope I don’t end up chaining her to my bed afterward.
CHAPTER SEVEN
