And it’s clear she’s the perfect trophy wife.
This must be another box he needs to tick.
“How lovely,” I drawl, lifting my glass to have it refilled.
“She’ll have a water,” Charlie says, placing his hand over the glass before the waitress can top it up.
“You don’t get to decide that for me!” I eyeball the waitress. “More champagne, please.”
Drew pinches my thigh hard, and I count to ten in my head. I smile at the confused waitress. “Actually, I’ll just have water. Thank you.”
Father sends a proud smile in Charlie’s direction while Trent loudly chuckles. “You poor bastard.” He points at Charlie. “You’ve no idea what you’re in for. You sure you still want to go through with it?”
“Trent.” Christian sends a warning to his son, and Sylvia and I lock eyes at the same moment with the same inner thought.What is he implying?
“I know it’s a foreign concept to a cold, ruthless bastard like you, but I love Abby and she loves me. There is nothing to reconsider.”
Although I’m fucking furious with Charlie, I press my body into his, smiling as he kisses my temple.
After dinner, Father ushers us all into the burgundy living room. I frown as I spot the projector and screen that’s set up in the room. The drapes are closed, and the only light in the room is from a few lamps scattered around the vast space.
“What is this?” Charlie asks, and I notice the tick pulsing in his jaw.
“What would Christmas be without a few choice home movies?”
All the color drains from Charlie’s face. “No,” he barks out. “I didn’t agree—”
“You sure you want to continue that sentence, son?” Dad puffs out his chest, challenging Charlie.
“Charles?” Charlie’s dad steps forward, sending him an inquisitive stare. It’s clear neither of the Barrons knew about this.
I have a real bad feeling. Drew pins me with worried eyes, and I know he’s sensing the same.
“Well?” Father asks, leveling a harsh look at Charlie. The bastard extracts his cell. “You want me to call it all off?”
Charlie clears his throat. “That won’t be necessary.”
Father nods, pride and relief shining in his eyes, before he turns a hate-filled look at me. Acid crawls up my throat, and butterflies invade my chest.
“Mom. Can you and Lillian step out of the room, please,” Charlie says, exchanging a silent communication with his father.
“They can stay.” Father smirks.
“I’d rather they didn’t.” Charlie stares at his mother, gesturing toward the door. She looks to her husband, and he nods, and she ushers her daughter out of the room with a perplexed expression on her face.
“You might want to sit down for this, Abigail.” The bastard smirks again, his eyes lingering on my chest briefly.
Drew and Charlie both stiffen, and I fight a bout of nausea. “I’m fine to stand.”
“Very well.”
I want to charge him and wipe that smug smile off his face. I glance at Charlie as my father moves to the projector. “I know you know what this is.”
His jaw tightens, and his muscles strain against the sleeves of his dress shirt. “You have no one to blame but yourself. Just remember that.”
My stomach drops to my toes, and I brace myself for it.
But absolutely nothing could’ve prepared me for what appears on the screen.
