“I’m not entirely sure what I feel for him,” I say finally.
“Life can be very strange sometimes, take you in many directions. Two unlikely people can end up together for the most unusual reasons.” She pauses, and I know something critical is coming. “But, if I’m wrong”—her voice drops to a whisper—“and you decide you don’t like him and want out, let me know.”
“Why?”
“So I can get my husband to take care of yours.”
“Take care as in…talk to him?”
“No, girl. I’ll have Massimo shoot him in the head.”
I choke as I inhale. “That…won’t be necessary.”
Chapter 26
Dr. Bartholomew Shaw’s office
“You know, I’ve never been a big fan of weddings.” Bartholomew’s office chair groans in protest as he leans back. “Maybe it’s because of the crowds. But I really liked yours. A truly magnificent event.”
“The ceremony ended in a clusterfuck, as you damn well know,” I growl.
“But it was still lovely. Very classy and upscale. Too bad about all the smoke and the screaming people who were falling over themselves in the end. I bet it’ll be the talk of the town for some time yet.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Are you fucking with me, Barty?”
“I wouldn’t dare!” He lifts his hands, palms out in defense. “I just find it odd that your minions didn’t prevent it somehow. But, I guess that makes sense. It was a malfunction in the cooling system, wasn’t it? It’s not like it was a bomb.”
“In fact, it was sabotage. And the team that could have prevented it had failed. Which is why I dealt with the imbecile who led them.”
“Ah... I see. Did you”—he makes a slicing motion across his throat with his hand—“you know?”
“I did.”
“Personally?”
“His negligence put my wife in danger. Of course I handled it myself.”
“Let’s focus on that for a moment. How did the possibility of your wife being hurt affect you? What did you feel?”
Rage. Panic. Fucking fear. Utter lack of power!
“Displeasure.” I shrug. “My reaction had nothing to do with her. I simply don’t tolerate mistakes.”
“Understandable. So, after the adrenaline rush, the roller coaster of emotions…did the two of you talk about what happened? Or”—he wriggles his eyebrows suggestively—“maybe you focused on something else? Possibly…a more intimate subject?”
“No. I told you before, our marriage is platonic.”
“Yes, but aren’t you tempted even a little? She might be interested, too.”
“Not tempted,” I grumble, remembering my epic hard-on that evening all too vividly. “Not in the slightest.”
“Really? Strange. Your wife is a very beautiful woman. Something most other men at the wedding clearly noticed.”
Red clouds my vision, and I grip the handrest with enough force to make the material squeak.
“Of course, considering their elitist attitudes, they probably didn’t pay any attention to her before. Hired help, and all that. But they have certainly noti—”
“Who?” I roar. “Who the fucknoticedmy wife? Describe every single asshole to me!”
