Chapter 20 Married
Married
LOTHAIR
After consulting his boss, Terry agreed to stay with Boone in the parking garage of a neighboring hotel. Kim and two men from Paris’s team accompanied us to the door.
Paris and I entered the aging building where Carlos rented an office on the fifteenth floor. We took the elevator but didn’t speak since we shared it with three others.
Carlos’s secretary, a young alpha whose name I always forgot, tried to stop us with, “If you just wait, I’ll let Mr. Sorensen know…” Paris ignored him and marched forward. He walked into Carlos’s office and looked around before scanning Carlos up and down.
My ex-manager looked smug, with no hint of his usual nervousness. Maybe he was relieved he didn’t have to pretend to give a shit anymore. But what was more worrying was that he seemed sure of himself. Like he had already won.
Paris lowered himself into a chair and casually crossed his legs. His face showed nothing. No emotion, no message, just a cold mask.
“Can I offer you a drink, Mr. Olivier?” Carlos said.
“Thank you, I’m good.”
“Lothair?”
“Can we get to the point?”
Carlos put the carafe down with a shrug. “Are you in a hurry?”
“In fact, yes,” I said. “How much do you want?”
The bastard had the gall to laugh. “You think I want money?”
Chuckling, he walked around his desk and opened a drawer to pull out two stacks of papers. Then he shoved them toward us and added a pen on top of each.
“Sign, please.”
Without a word, Paris began reading. I walked over and scanned the first page.
Exclusive Agency Agreement
I hereby employ Carlos Sorensen as my exclusive talent agent for the period of seven years…
“You’re kidding.”
Carlos raised his eyebrows. “Do I look like I’m kidding?”
Paris lifted his hand for us to be quiet, not looking away from the contract. He turned to the next page. Both Carlos and I waited for him to finish reading. It seemed that whenever Paris was in the room, he ruled over us all. Blackmail or not.
Long minutes passed, during which I decided I’d rather quit the business entirely than ever work with Carlos again.
But I had to give Paris the final word—his reputation would suffer more than mine if this went wrong.
Carlos began to fidget, his eyes pinned on Paris.
His initial confidence was fraying around the edges.
Finally, Paris sat up straight and looked at Carlos. He didn’t touch the pen.
“I won’t sign this. It would breach the current contract by which I’m bound.”
The fake smile on Carlos’s face got tense. “I’m sure you can lawyer your way out of that. I also have a press release ready to go, announcing your sudden switch to my agency. It will be surprising news for many.”
Paris’s expression remained unreadable. “I won’t sign you as my agent, Mr. Sorensen. You lack the qualifications and experience to handle my account.”
Whoa.
Carlos clenched his jaw, and the vein on his forehead popped. “I’m afraid you have no choice,” he ground out.
At that, Paris smiled. He really looked like an angel. “There’s always a choice, Mr. Sorensen.” He pushed to stand. “Let’s go, Lothair.”
I hadn’t expected that. We’d agreed to pay Carlos. Now we were going to…leave?
“Um, Paris,” I hissed. “Aren’t we being blackmailed?
“Yes, we are. In a quite vulgar way, too.”
Carlos seemed too stunned to speak. He looked from me to Paris and back with his mouth open.
“We can’t just go,” I said. “He’ll publish the pictures.”
Hitching his bag up his shoulder, Paris moved toward the door. “He might, yes.”
Carlos finally woke up from his stupor. “If you don’t sign these contracts today, I’m going to wipe my ass with your public image. By evening, you’re going to be branded the filthiest whores in the country.”
Eerily slowly, Paris turned around. He gifted Carlos with the most superior sneer I’d ever seen on anyone’s face.
“Mr. Sorensen, let me advise you just this one time,” he said in a low, calm voice.
“To play the game at this level, you must think not one, not two, but ten steps ahead. Consider all the consequences. You were counting on us to be afraid of the truth. What if we’re not?
If you publish those pictures, Lothair and I will survive.
Our public image will merely change—morph into something else. It is you who will never recover.”
What happened next was fast, but not fast enough for me. Carlos stepped around his desk and reached for Paris’s handbag, about to yank Paris backward.
He managed only one word, “Bitch!”
The next second, I had him pinned to the wall by his throat, his feet dangling.
His eyes bulged, and his face turned deep red. I’d never killed anyone, and up until that moment, I’d never thought of how incredibly easy it would be to kill a human.
Just a squeeze, and he’d be gone. I’d pulverize his spine in one hand. Luckily for Carlos, I wasn’t nearly angry enough to get murderous. I watched him squirm for a bit, enjoying the raw terror with which he stared back at me.
“Lothair, let’s go,” Paris said in a bored tone.
I dropped Carlos to the floor. He crumbled like a bag of potatoes and gasped for breath.
“You’ll regret this,” he rasped, massaging his throat.
“Getting rid of you? Hardly.”
We passed the secretary in silence. Paris put on his sunglasses and a black baseball cap before we called the elevator.
Back in the garage, Boone bounded out of the car and toward Paris. He scooped Paris into a tight embrace, burying his face in Paris’s neck.
Terry eyed them then smiled at me.
I gave him a kiss.
“How did it go?” he asked.
“We’ll talk in the car.”
Boone drove directly to Paris’s estate while Terry sat in the passenger seat, asking question after question. Looking tired, Paris left the explaining to me. I didn’t pretend to understand his reasoning, so I recounted the interaction with Carlos until the point we’d left.
“We can’t rely on Carlos being afraid to share the images,” Terry said.
I had to agree with him. If that was Paris’s strategy, it might not work.
Paris sighed. “Before we get into this, I want coffee.”
I’d never been to Paris’s estate before, only to his three-story apartment in the city.
We passed through an iron gate and entered a sprawling park.
Boone stopped in front of a villa half the size of my home.
Huh. I’d have expected something more opulent from Paris.
The property seemed larger than mine, though.
Boone opened the car door for Paris, and we followed them into the house.
Paris led us to the other side of the building, to a cozy patio surrounded by potted palm trees.
It offered a view over the estate and the mountains of Cross River National Park rising in the distance.
Yep, the pool was bigger than mine, and hello, a horse barn!
A few beasts grazed on the meadows below us, and I spotted a cluster of small cottages between the trees.
Presumably, that was where the staff lived.
Boone exchanged a few words with a middle-aged omega in a white suit who must have been the butler, then he sat by Paris’s side.
“The drinks will be ready in a couple of minutes.”
“Thank you, Boone.” Paris smiled at him gently, and Boone melted like ice cream on a hot pavement.
Terry put an arm around me, and I gratefully rested my head against his shoulder. It had been a long couple of days.
I expected Paris to start explaining, but he lifted his phone and dialed someone.
“Hello, Allan. I’m good, thank you. Listen. I’m being forced to make a public announcement about my relationship status, and I need you to find me a suitable channel—whoever has a good enough reach and is available at short notice. It needs to happen tonight.”
Terry stiffened next to me, and I sat up.
“Yes to both,” Paris continued. “Renner is good too. I don’t watch his talk show, but his reputation is stellar, I agree. Promise them exclusive information about my private life.”
I looked at Terry, who shrugged.
“There’s been a leak. It might affect some of the projects we’re working on, but I need to control the narrative from the start.”
Silence followed. I couldn’t distinguish what the other person—obviously Allan Caspian—was saying. Paris looked as calm as ever.
“Thank you for trusting me with this, Allan. I appreciate it.”
After a quick goodbye, Paris put the phone on the coffee table.
“Allan Caspian knows?” Terry asked.
“Yes. He was a guest at our wedding.”
I laughed. Paris and Boone were married. Of course they were.
The butler arrived with our coffee, milk, and water. When he left, I cleared my throat.
“So, you’re going public about you and Boone?”
Paris glanced at us with a sad smile. “It’s something we’ve prepared for. We knew it would happen eventually.”
“And…how do you intend to communicate it?” Terry asked.
“An evening talk show, preferably. If we can get somewhere at the last minute.”
“The angle?”
Paris shrugged. “The truth. We’ve been deeply in love and strictly monogamous for five years.
Our sex life is nobody’s business.” He gave Terry a long, assessing look then met my gaze.
“I can either leave you out of it entirely, or I’ll mention that you are also in a committed relationship. Your choice.”
Terry rubbed his hand over his face. Was he ashamed of me? A few weeks ago, I’d have worried about that, but now I knew better.
“I think Terry would hate the public scrutiny this early in our relationship. We’ll see what Carlos does.”
My mate gave me a grateful smile.
Later that night, Terry and I watched the Renner show together from home.
Paris looked gorgeous in a provocative see-through top with an elegant suit jacket over it. His makeup was understated, only highlighting his natural beauty.
“He really is the most beautiful omega in the country,” Terry said as he settled next to me with a bowl of popcorn in his arms.
“Pity they’re monogamous, huh? He’d be a tasty sandwich filling between us.”
My mate guffawed. “If Boone ever hears you talk like that, you’re dead.”