The groomsmen laugh, some joining in with their own dancers.
Then Blake spanks her hard enough to leave marks, notonce bothering to look at her face. The smile on her face never falters, not even once, but her shoulders betray her.
He fists a handful of her hair next and jerks her head back—not to meet her eyes, but to display her to the room.
“This,” Blake says flatly, like he’s pointing out a feature on a car. His hands keep moving, careless and entitled. “This is what I need. Willing. Available. No strings. No complications.”
The men whoop, some pulling out their own phones to record. The irony isn't lost on me—they're all documenting Blake's depravity from different angles.
This is the man who called Natalie 'irreplaceable.' Who talked about her like she was sacred. Virgin bride. Wife material. Mother of his children.
Now he's got his hands all over a woman whose name he doesn't know, laughing about 'testing the merchandise before the warranty expires.'
I check the service window. Scarlett's gone. Smart woman. She got the message. She's probably too devastated to confront him.
Blake just showed her exactly what she is to him: same category as these women. Temporary. Transactional. Replaceable.
Jane wanted Scarlett to watch Blake choose Natalie. Instead, we showed her Blake doesn't respect anyone. Not Natalie. Not Scarlett. Not these women. They're all just different categories of the same inventory.
And I have proof.
The crude commentary escalates. Blake's getting rougher, more explicit, and the woman's smile is starting to strain at the edges. The other groomsmen are following his lead, encouraged by his behavior.
I've wanted to punch Blake since he grabbed Jane on the beach. I've been holding back. Playing nice. Because Jane needed this mission to work.
But watching him tonight—the way he talks about Natalie, the way he treats these women—it's taking everything I have not to drag him outside.
I have what Jane needs. Video. Audio. Blake in his own words, proving he's exactly the monster we knew he was.
Scarlett saw it. She's broken. But we don't need her confrontation anymore.
We have Blake damning himself.
I stop the recording and stand up.
"Where you going, West?" Blake slurs, barely looking up from the woman in his lap.
"Getting some air."
"Don't be such a—"
But I'm already walking out. Behind me, the degradation continues, but I've seen enough. Recorded enough.
The mission's complete.
Me:Got it. All of it. On video.
Jane:Everything?
Me:Blake praising Natalie as business merger. "Virgin bride to teach who's boss." Women being disposable. Stripper depravity. His own words damn him.
Jane:Scarlett?
Me:Witnessed pretty much everything but we don't need her as proof anymore.
Jane:So, we actually did it? You did it?
Me:We did it. Meet me in the lobby?
