Page 66 of Kinks of a Billionaire
“That’s impossible,” Mr. Harris protested with an even mixture of disbelief and offense.
“I assure you that it isn’t.” Royce got into his face. “What the fuck are you doing here? This is an exclusive party.”
Maybe they were following us and would drag us back to answer for Royce’s violence.
“I have connections.” A snake-like smile spread across Mr. Harris’s face. “And you two have reached your dead end.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, my fingernails digging into my husband’s forearm as I clutched at him.
“If I knew you two would be here, I would have brought the police.” Mr. Harris attempted to grab my arm and Royce shoved him away, causing the old man to stumble. He glared at Royce with a murderous look. “You two are criminals.”
“And your son’s a woman beater,” Royce said easily while the vein in his temple throbbed. He was a ticking bomb. “Push me and I’ll ensure every single newspaper has a trending story on the Harris family tomorrow with a special section covering Stuart as a woman beater.” Their faces tightened, and Royce continued, “You’re bottom feeders, and corrupt as fuck, but you should be smart enough to recognize a bigger threat.Me.”
That shut them up, but only temporarily, the vicious strenuous current stealing all the oxygen in the room. Mrs. Harris broke the silence.
“Willow is pregnant with Stuart’s—” Her voice faltered as temperatures plummeted and tension spiked.
“And?” Royce’s expression hardened. “Did you think that meant she was willing to take your son’s abuse? He showed his true colors, and Willow made her choice. Now what the fuck are you doing here?”
Mrs. Harris jerked back as if he’d slapped her across the face. “Stuart isn’t abusive.”
Royce scoffed. “Tell that to the women he’s hurt.” His eyes flicked to Mr. Harris. “Or your husband. Certain tendencies run in the family, don’t they? Where do you think all those big checks you keep signing are going? Charity?”
I was certain there wasn’t a single intelligent thought rattling in this woman’s head. Either that, or she was willfully blind not to see that her son had serious issues and that her husband was a scumbag.
I watched an oily smile spread across Mr. Harris’s face, his bald head shining even under the dim lights.
“I swear to God if he gets anywhere near me, I’m going to lose my shit,” I muttered under my breath, stepping closer to Royce.
Stuart’s father was in his late sixties, but the work he’d had done made him look twenty years younger, albeit shiny and plastic. And his wife was no different. It would seem they were both desperate to hold on to their youth, which might explain why they were the oldest people at this party.
“I’ll be making a citizen’s arrest,” Mr. Harris purred, and winked at me. A shudder of disgust snaked down my spine. The man had some balls, especially knowing what Royce was capable of.
My brow furrowed as his words sunk in. What the fuck did he mean by that?
“Eyes off my wife, Congressman, or I’ll skin you alive,” Royce hissed as fury emanated off him. “And you haven’t answered my question—what the fuck are you two doing here?”
“Will you do to him what you did to my son?” Mrs. Harris screeched, drawing more attention our way. “Thankfully, he had enough sense to follow our advice and impregnate this one. At least notallis wasted.”
“Wh-what?” I asked, confusion swirling inside me as her words sunk in.
Royce stilled next to me.
“Say that again.” His tone was calm, but an arctic chill breathed from him.
I flicked my eyes to him, but he was laser-focused. The building could go up in flames and he still wouldn’t pull his eyes away from the threat before him. This was the Royce who beat up the boy who tried to assault me in college. The very same who evoked a campus-wide “no touching” rule during my college years.
He took a step forward, towering over Mrs. Harris.
“You better start explaining.” He wrapped his hand around her neck, fury coming off him in waves. “Before I castrate your husband and gut you alive.”
I grabbed his forearm, my fingers digging into his inked flesh.
“Royce,” I murmured anxiously, my eyes darting around the room. I spotted Asher storming our way, uncaring of people stumbling to the side as he parted the crowd like the Red Sea.
“What is going on here?” Asher demanded, his expression furious.
“Royce, let her go,” I hissed. “She’s just a messed-up old woman.”
