“I suggest you open the briefcase. It might help you rethink your ability to help me.”
Concern overtakes his features as he reaches for the briefcase and quickly slides it closer to him. He pushes the latches open with his thumbs and flips the top open.
“Shit,” he curses under his breath, when he sees the pictures of himself fucking his daughter’s underage babysitter. Slamming the briefcase shut, he turns his attention back to me. His dismissive attitude is suddenly replaced with worry and caution. “How the fuck did you get these?”
“I have my ways,” I say smugly. “I don’t have to tell you that those images, along with videos and other incriminating evidence, will be released unless you do what I ask of you.”
The lawyer’s face takes on a shade of red as he takes a moment to reevaluate the situation he is in. “Listen, obviously I don’t want these out, but I can’t help you. There is no way for me to change the last will and testament even if?—”
“The updated paperwork is already in your files, and Donovan’s death certificate is under the pictures inside the briefcase,” I explain calmly.
Uncertainty is written all over Crawford’s face as he pushes a button on his desk phone. “Emily, bring me Donovan Blackwell’s last will and testament.”
“Of course.” Her high-pitched voice comes through the speaker.
We sit in silence. The lawyer shifts in his seat, looking uncomfortable. I glance over at Aurora, who hasn’t said a word since we exited the car. Her lips are pressed into a thin line as she blankly stares at a random spot on the wall. Clearly, she doesn’t want to be here.
A moment later, the office door opens and Emily, the secretary, walks in holding a thick folder. Crawford takes it from her and starts going through the file before Emily has a chance to scurry from the room.
“That’s impossible,” he mutters, flipping through the pages frantically. “How did you…”
“Like I said, I have my ways.”
“I will need a few days to get all of this taken care of,” he says, flustered, a thin sheen of sweat forming on his forehead.
“You have until tonight,” I warn, as I stand up.
Crawford’s mouth opens like he is about to object, but lucky for him, he decides against it. Aurora gets up from her chair, and together we exit the office without another word.
The receptionist carefully wishes us a great rest of our day as we pass her desk on the way out. Aurora remains by my side, keeping up with my strides even in her high heels. I don’t miss how she scans her surroundings constantly, probably hoping to catch me off guard so she can get away.Not happening.
Back at the car, my obedient wife slides into her seat and buckles up. She crosses her legs, making the pencil skirt slide upslightly. My palms twitch, wanting to touch her smooth skin like I did earlier.
“You did well in there,” I praise, as the vehicle starts moving again.
Aurora scoffs. “Do I get a prize?”
“Depends,” I muse. “Maybe I’ll give you something if you behave the rest of the day.”
“Don’t worry. Be seen, not heard. That’s what I do best,” she says bitterly.
“You’re in a bad mood today,” I taunt. “I figured you would be more content after that orgasm last night.”
Shifting in her seat, Aurora’s cheeks turn into a delectable shade of pink. Her shoulders are tense, and she actively avoids looking at me. “Maybe I was faking it.”
I chuckle. “It looked pretty real to me, but I guess I have to make you come a few more times to be sure. You know, for comparison.” My cock stirs at the thought. The image of her in my bed, naked, and spread out still fresh on my mind. “Maybe we should start now,” I suggest.
“That’s not the kind of prize I had in mind.” Her response piques my interest.
“What did you have in mind?” I ask, genuinely curious.
She turns toward me, scanning my face like she is trying to figure something out. “I’m pretty sure my father sent Mariella’s mother money every month. I want those payments to continue.”
Part of me wants to tell her that I already approved the transfers to continue in the paperwork we just dropped off. However, I decide to keep the truth from her for now. “You know, you don’t actually have any leverage here.”
“You know you don’t actually have to be an asshole all the time,” she snaps back. “Clearly, you already have enough money.Giving up a few hundred bucks a month won’t hurt you,” she argues.
“It’s never been about the money,” I reveal.
