Page 57 of Fragile Twisted Vows

His eyes widen as he spots me, then they narrow as I hear him zip his pants beneath the desk.

Gross bastard.

“Crystal, leave. Now,” he barks and she exits the office immediately, wiping her mouth with her head down as she speeds past me and out the door without meeting my gaze.

I don’t need to look at her. I can feel her shame. This room fucking wreaks of coercion. It always has.

“What do you want?” he growls as he stands to pour himself probably his fifth scotch of the day, not bothering to offer me one.

He hasn’t in quite some time actually. In truth, Michael Fairchild has probably hated me since the day he met me, but he’s definitely despised me since I divorced his eldest daughter.

“Not even a hello?” I flash a fake smile at him as I sit down and cross my leg in his cheap, squeaky leather chair in front of his desk.

He sneers at me from his spot as he sips his drink.

“Did the divorce papers not finalize?” he grumbles and I shake my head at him as I roll up my sleeves.

“Oh, they did. Thank god. Your eldest daughter is quite the pest,” I say with a sinister grin, and his face turns red.

Easy now, don’t have a heart attack, you old fuck.

“Speaking of daughters, how is your youngest? Lucy, right?” I ask, and his eyes narrow on me.

He doesn’t know because he hasn’t spoken to her in years. He left her on the streets pregnant and alone, abused and terrified.

I could kill him for that. I could kill him for many things.

Then again, I abandoned her too. I guess guilt is easy to wash away when you turn a blind eye to it.

“I’m sure she is fine. Why are you here, Reed?” He growls as he sits down and sparks up a cigar.

Why is it only gross when he does it?

“I’m here to collect my money, Senator,” I say, and he scoffs at me.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says and I lean forward to eye him close with my elbows pressed to my knees.

“I think you know exactly what I’m talking about,” I say, growing more and more irritated by him.

It’s why I’ve put it off for so long. This man infuriates me, mostly because it’s like dealing with a perverted child. I don’t need thirty grand that badly, I just need him out of my hair.

Then again, marrying his youngest daughter won’t solve that. He still wants to sue me, put me under investigation. Because he’s a snoopy bastard.

“Or are you too stacked on other hush money trials to remember our little deal, Michael?” I sneer as he glares at me, knowing damn well he owes me money because I helped fund Megan’s best friend, another woman he fucked and paid to keep quiet about.

“You think you know about everything, don’t you, Reed?” he says, and I shrug.

“I know a lot. Head of Special Forces, remember?” I smirk and he continues to glare at me, except this time, he’s assessing me.

“But you’re not anymore, are you, Reed? As far as I’m concerned, you haven’t been for quite some time.” He puffs on his cigar, confidence exuding because he thinks he has a leg up on me.

But I’m always ready to bring him right back down to Earth.

“No, I’ve been too busy loaning money to people who pay for their daughter’s friend to get an abortion because their dad decided to fuck them,” I retort, and he falls silent instantly.

“Actually,” I remove my phone from my pocket and pull up Lucille’s file before turning the screen to face him.

“I think I have an actual example for you,” I say, his eyes pinned to Lucille’s hush money file that I dug up on him. “This one might be a little close to home too, right?” I taunt.

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