And with those awesome parting words, he walks away, leaving me shaking in fear at the thought he has something big planned for me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
“Are you nervous?” I ask Father the following morning when we are all convened in the presidential suite over breakfast, just before we head down to the auditorium where the vote will take place.
“Nerves are for the weak.” He puffs out his chest. “Today is just a formality.” Patrice flicks a piece of lint off the pocket of his jacket. “I’ve spent years working toward this goal, and everything is lined up to slot perfectly into place.” He drains his freshly squeezed orange juice, looking predictably smug.
His arrogance and his cruelty were always going to be his downfall.
I take Charlie’s glass and stand. “I’ll get you a refill.”
Father thrusts his glass at me, and I fake a lip bite, taking it as my mouth pulls into a thin line. “Good girl.” He pats me on the ass as I turn away from the table, and it’s the first time he has laid a finger on me in months.
It was a blatant move.
A warning that after today everything will change.
I want to grab the coffee pot and empty it over his perverted head, but that would defeat the purpose, so I swallow my pride and ignore his groping. I take my time filling both glasses with fresh juice as Drew distracts the bastard with questions about how the vote will go.
“After the outgoing president makes the opening speech, and the introductions, the public vote will take place,” he explains as I hand him his fresh glass of juice.
I hand Charlie his juice refill, smoothing a hand down the front of my black pencil skirt, ensuring the small handgun strapped to my inner thigh is still hidden. I smile at Charlie as I slide back into the seat alongside him. “What was that all about?” he whispers.
“He believes he’s back in control because Kai made a deal that we would hand over the recording from Christmas after the vote.”
Charlie arches a brow, drilling Father with a poisonous look when he glances our way. He’s still pontificating, and he really does love the sound of his own voice.
“That doesn’t sound like a smart move on Kaiden’s part,” Charlie whispers in my ear.
“We had our reasons,” I cryptically admit, and that’s as much as I’m prepared to say. I have no clue which team he’s supporting, if any, and I can’t let my guard down around him.
“How many times have you been told it’s rude to whisper at the table,” Father barks at me.
“I apologize, Father.” I almost choke over the words as they leave my mouth.
“I hope you enjoyed your little rebellion these past couple months, because after today, everything is going to change.”
“We had a deal,” I remind him, even though I am in no way surprised he’s reneging on it. It’s what we’ve all been expecting.
“I don’t negotiate with punks,” he supplies, grinning, and I work hard to fight my own grin. His predictability was inevitable, and he’s sitting here, gloating and acting all superior-like because he thinks he has all copies of the Christmas Day recording in his possession.
But only because we want him to think that.
For months, he’s been searching for it, and it wasn’t that difficult to drop a few breadcrumbs. His PI took the bait, retrieving the box with the recordings we’d hidden in the earth under the old oak tree on the grounds of Chez Manning.
He believes he has the upper hand, and I’m not going to dispute it. We want him to feel supreme confidence as he walks into that room, thinking he has everything under control. Which is why we also threw Atticus and Patrice under the bus last night.
Xavier sent an anonymous email to Father’s private account with video evidence of their betrayal. I’m certain he has something planned for Atticus, especially if the bruising around Patrice’s neck this morning is any indication. Oh, she’s done a good job of disguising it, but I saw the marks before she tied the silk scarf around her throat. She’s as timid as a mouse at the table, jumping every time his loud voice booms around the room. Whatever punishment he doled out has scared her into submission, but I highly doubt he is through with her yet.
And I don’t need any proof to know he fucked Isabella last night. He probably forced Patrice to watch while he did it too. That’s exactly his M.O. I imagine he will keep Patrice around long enough to break her, and then he’ll toss her aside in favor of the younger, hotter woman.
Or, at least, that’s what he would do if he was free to do it.
But he’ll be behind bars if we have anything to say about it.
I enjoy the gloating look on his face, knowing it’ll be wiped off soon enough.
He thinks everything is lining up perfectly, but he knows nothing.
