A moan fills the lobby. Guess Peter in the recording just came. “Turn that shit off!” He gestures at the screen.
I blink innocently. “Why? I just wanted everyone to know the truth after what Viv and you did to me. A picture is worth a thousand words. I figure this vid’s worth about five million.”
“At least,” Huxley says. “The first showing was livestreamed, and more videos will go up. My father’s accounts have over sixty million followers combined, and he might even ask Ryder Reed to mention it just because.”
“You can’t record that without my permission! That’s illegal! Violation of my privacy! Not to mention, I never signed a release!” Peter’s scream is so loud, everyone can hear it. And nobody is leaving. This might be the most exciting office gossip of the century for these high-priced lawyers.
“You can’t expect privacy when you screwed my half-sister in my bedroom!”
He freezes, unable to continue. He looks like an intellectually challenged amoeba. After a couple of seconds, he recovers. “That doesn’t mean you can damage my reputation.” He jabs his fingerin my face, almost touching my nose. “I’m suing your ass, bitch—”
Huxley’s fist shoots out in a lightning-quick jab, and Peter’s head snaps back. He falls on his ass and covers his mouth. “Augh!”
“Told you to speak respectfully to my wife.”
“Gonna sue yer ass!” Peter cries.
“I’d say that you have a promising career in porn, but your dick is too small, so maybe not.”
Peter pushes himself up. His lips are busted, and tears glisten in his eyes, for God’s sake. Huxley didn’t hit him that hard. I’ve seen what he can do to a man’s face when he’s really intent on damaging the other party. Peter starts toward the elevator bank, but notices a huge crowd of people pointing and whispering. He falters, his cheeks flaming. He spins around and runs toward the parking lot. That’s his motto: bluster, and if that doesn’t work, run. He’s going to hop in his car and drive away. Then later claim something like he had to be alone with his thoughts, as though they’re worth anything.
“That was satisfying.” I look up at Huxley. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Thanks for letting me be part of this.” Then he lets out a dark laugh that hints that the tap to Peter’s face isn’t all that’s amusing him.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Huxley
–Emma: If I were you, I’d never cross your wife.
I have to laugh.
–Me: You taught me better than that.
My brothers’ reactions are more exuberant as usual.
–Noah: Mad respect, bro.
–Nicholas: Respect for Grace. I don’t think it was Huxley’s doing.
–Me: Correct.
–Noah: Damn. I think I love her. Not as much as Bobbi, obviously, but she’s good.
–Sebastian: But the license plates? That doesn’t seem like a Grace thing.
–Me: Nope. You’re right.
–Noah: Aw, man! How come you never invite me to the good stuff?
–Me: Grace decided who could be there.
–Emmett: I’m hurt she asked Dad but not us. Did we do something?
–Grant: Griffin probably scared her.
–Griffin: Shut your mouth, Grant. Women are never scared of me. They love my face.
