Page 144 of Corrupt Me

An indignant huff escapes her overly plump lips before she finally stomps away.

I watch as Bailey excuses herself and speed walks toward the hallway. Eric instantly seeks me out as if needing to confirm that I am exactly where I should be.

He struts toward me, and I can’t help but think how I’d like to pluck the feathers off this wannabe peacock and burn them to ash at his feet.

“No congratulations?” he asks, entirely too smug for his own self-preservation.

“Congratulations,” I say steadily. His eyes widen, taken by surprise. This idiot has no idea about everything I had to learn as my father prepared me for our mission to take back our rightful place in the Family. I would never give Eric the satisfaction of one-upping me, even though that’s exactly what he did.

“The right man won her over,” he adds, grinning like the idiot he is.

It takes everything in me to maintain my composure. “If you say so, but let’s be very clear. If you ever hurt Bailey, I’m going to hurt you a thousand times worse.”

He can’t even hold my gaze for long. He immediately hides his fear behind a forced chortle. Guys like him hide behind the confidence of a god while having the backbone of a salamander.

“You don’t have to worry. I will take fabulous care of my fiancée. Can’t wait to make her my wife soon.”

It’s that wordsoonthat guts me. “Impatient much?”

“There is something about a summer wedding.”

I am one taunt away from slicing his neck and painting the polished floor in his blood.

His mother calls for him, and I stumble back when he turns to go to her. My knees weaken, threatening to give up on me at any moment. No one informed me of when it would happen. I have a few more months to find that asshole Felix before I have to watch Bailey marry someone else. I’d rather die than witness that happen. But what angers me to the point of black spots dotting my vision is that she had to know that tidbit—and yet, she still agreed.

If it needs to be done, she will do it.

That sucker-punches me so hard it feels like it sends me straight to the land of the dead.

With tunnel vision, I stride toward the exit, where Samuel intercepts me. “Mister Prescott, the party is inside.”

“I’m sure you would have a problem if I destroyed the place.”

His appearance, like his manners, speaks of utter professionalism. “I would indeed. Maybe you should wait in the west wing. It’s more peaceful there.”

“Do you have a certain room in mind?”Tell me where she is already.

“The last one on the right.”

I cock my head, not understanding his motivation. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were encouraging an illicit affair.”

“Far from my intentions,” he nods stiffly and walks away.

I take the stairs two at a time. This mansion is enormous, and you could easily get lost. A velvet seating lounge area is at the top of the stairs. High doors make out the long floor. While it keeps the refined and old touch, the first floor appears more intimate than the downstairs.

I walk with a single-minded focus, and without knocking, I stride inside.

“Just a minute,” Bailey says, her voice thick with emotion.

She twirls around, clutching her chest as she takes a step back. “You can’t be here.”

I crack my neck, trying to calm the volcano inside of me, threatening to erupt. “I can’t be here?” I repeat, my tone low and dangerous.

I shove my hands in my pockets in a desperate attempt to stop myself from touching her, but I’ve reached my breaking point.

Whatever she sees on my face makes her retreat further, her back hitting the windowsill. She grips it like it’s the only thing grounding her.

“Don’t I deserve a proper breakup, Bailey?” My voice is deceptively firm, but it’s a fragile mask. Beneath it, I’m breaking apart, splitting at the seams.

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