They could end up making a scene tonight, but if they know what’s good for them, they’ll keep their mouths shut and enjoy the free alcohol. My patience with everyone is running thin.
I want our ring on Charlotte’s finger and for everyone to leave us the fuck alone so we can finally focus on settling into our bond.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Patrick
Charlotte takes my goddamn breath away as I study her curves in the black and silver dress. Her long blonde hair is wavy tonight, falling around her chest and shoulders as she talks to Lacey.
They were relieved to see each other, and we haven’t been able to pry them apart yet.
The conversation around me drones on. I have no interest in speaking to a single one of these men, but I know what will perk me up. Sliding my hand into the pocket of my dress pants, I palm the remote and feel around for the button to turn on the device. I slipped that treat inside her while she was getting dressed.
It’s a wearable G-spot and clit stimulator, and as soon as I turn it on the gentlest setting, Charlotte’s head whips around the room.
I laugh, shaking my head.
She looks like she can’t decide if she wants to strangle me or sit on my face.
Why not both?
I wouldn’t mind if she wanted to suffocate me with her thighs while riding my tongue.
I’m not afraid of toys, but I’m also not usually so quick to bring them in.
My hope is that a little pregame fun will help Charlotte relax enough that she can truly enjoy herself once we get to the main event. A bit of anticipation will only heighten the experience when she comes all over my cock.
Taking a long swig from my glass, I scan the room, hoping it helps to quiet my own nerves.
Wilder, at least so far, has chosen not to participate in a claiming ceremony with Lacey. Perhaps he doesn’t feel obligated to since his role is technically that of mediator.
On one hand, I’ve always been an exhibitionist. I enjoy the thought of showing Charlotte off. They can look and be painfully jealous, but not touch, and my sadistic side thrives on that kind of chaos. On the other hand, it makes me envious that Wilder doesn’t have to put on a show to have Lacey be accepted by the masses.
I suppose we could have refused, but that’s just asking for trouble down the line.
Speaking of trouble, Vanessa is across the room, standing next to her brothers. She looks miserable, and I feel a twinge of sympathy for her. It’s rather unfair in the grand scheme of things that her brothers are free to live their lives while she’s only seen as valuable because of what her family can gain from a trade.
I have a feeling that her father is responsible for forcing her to pursue other matches since her brothers have never given me that impression, but either way, they’re not standing their ground to protect her.
Grigoryan stands at her brother’s side, leering at the poor omega. I want nothing to do with Vanessa, but I would never wish Grigoryan on any woman. Or man, for that matter.
She’s half his age, and he just outlived wife number three. It’s like the man won’t die, and it defies logic.
Someone comes to a stop at my side, and I turn to find Moretti. Everyone else is dressed to the nines in fancy dresses and full suits, while he’s in jeans, a white T-shirt, and a black leather jacket with a cigarette tucked behind his left ear.
I should have a talk with the security staff at the entrance. Perhaps we should have implemented a dress code, although he knows what was implied as acceptable attire.
I roll my eyes, take a long swig of my drink, and nod at his ear. “That’s a horrible habit.”
He chuckles. “It’s a good thing you don’t have to worry about me trying to kiss you.”
I snort, following his line of sight.
Grigoryan now stands in front of Vanessa, hovering just a bit too close for it to be considered a polite conversation.
“That’s unfortunate.”
“It is,” he murmurs, looking away. “Congratulations on your engagement.” He claps me on the back and walks away as quickly as he arrived.
