Page 144 of Money Reigns
The words steal the air from my lungs. Not a label. Not a definition. Just possession, plain and irrevocable.
My face heats and his mother’s eye brows raise slightly.
Vivienne extends her hand. “VivienneBeaumont.”
I slip mine into hers. Her fingers are cool. Her grip is feather-light. Dainty. The kind that makes you feel clumsy just for existing too loudly.
“Thank you for allowing me in your home,” I manage, my voice steady even as my pulse races.
She smiles then. A curve of lips without a hint of warmth. No crinkle in her eyes. Just calculation, dressed up as civility.
I already know.
This house wasn’t built to let people like me breathe.
Chapter twenty-eight
War
The table is long. Too long.
Silverware glints under the chandelier. Porcelain plates, pristine and untouched.
I can barely taste the food. Olivia’s taken only a few polite bites, her fork stalling every time she feels eyes on her. My hand hasn’t left her under the table, anchored on her thigh, thumb stroking, keeping her with me.
But I see it.
The way my father keeps looking at her. Not leering;worse.
Assessing.Judging.
Like she’s another balance sheet, another acquisition to pick apart. It’s making her uncomfortable, and I fucking hate it.
“How did you and Warren meet?” my mother asks suddenly, voice smooth as silk, but sharp as the knife hidden beneath it.
Olivia turns to answer, but Wilder beats her to it.
“She was Wesley’s before she was Warren’s.”
Wesley chokes on his drink, coughing into his napkin.
My blood goes molten. Seething.
Wilder chuckles. Smug. Careless.
My mother blinks. Her expression sharpens. “Excuse me?”
Olivia clears her throat. Her voice is steady, bless her. “I worked for Wesley. But now I work for Warren.”
My mother nods once, lips pressing thin.
My father’s eyes narrow. Cut to me like a blade.
“Dating your subordinates, Warren?”
I drag my gaze to Wilder.
Heat radiates off me.
