Chapter 17
Chapter
Seventeen
Alejandro
After landing at Harry Reid, a car meets us to take Jax and me straight to Carmichael’s suite at the Bellagio. His personal bodyguard stands outside the door. I know Paolo Aguilar well.
“Is he alone?” I ask.
Paolo nods. That will at least save me some time, because I won’t have to eject whatever woman he’s with. I nod at the door, signaling he needs to open it.
“At least let me tell him you’re here,” Paolo says.
For the sake of his job, I agree.
Moments later, he allows me into Carmichael’s suite, and Jax stays outside the room and tells Paolo to leave us alone.
“Alejandro?” Carmichael gives me a fake smile. “To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”
Without a word, I cross the room and sucker punch him in the ribs so hard that he drops to his knees and wheezes. I drag him up and sit him on the couch, then perch on the coffee table in front of him. “Why did you tell Alana I was blackmailing you?”
He blinks at me, still winded.
I slap him across the face, not hard enough to leave a mark that will raise questions. “And why did you use that to pressure her into marrying me?”
Holding onto his ribs and still wheezing, he sucks in a breath. “I simply sweetened the pot.”
“You told me she was all in on this. That she was only interested in my money—”
“She is,” he insists.
I kick him in the shin, and he yelps and looks to the door. “He’s not coming to help you. Jax is keeping him busy for me. Now tell me why the fuck you lied to me.”
“I didn’t lie to you. She married you because it’s good for our family and yours.
And as much as she likes to play at being a do-gooder, she’s used to a certain kind of lifestyle.
She has only ever known wealth and comfort her entire life.
She is cosseted and spoiled, even if she will never admit it. ”
I don’t believe she’s spoiled, but I’m reminded of her eagerness to go to her charity work with Amanda Grant and her ilk almost every day, which appears to involve nothing more than sipping champagne.
Perhaps there’s an element of truth to the rest of his assessment of his daughter’s character.
“Then why did you lie about me blackmailing you?”
He shrugs. “I thought it wouldn’t hurt to give her a little extra incentive. She was never supposed to even discuss it with you.”
“You’re angry with her for revealing your deceit? Are you fucking serious right now?”
“I wasn’t trying to deceive you,” he snivels, holding his hands up. “I didn’t realize it would be such a big deal for you, Alejandro.”
“Slandering me and accusing me of blackmail wouldn’t be a big deal?” I snap, trying to keep a lid on my temper before I break his face open.
He snorts. “Like a little blackmail is beneath you? Come on, Alejandro, that’s the very least of your many crimes. Why does it matter what she thinks of you when you mean nothing to each other?”
I punch him in the ribs again, harder this time, making sure I break one.
Then I straighten my jacket. “That will hurt like a motherfucker every single time you breathe, and every time you do, I want you to remember that you breathe only by my permission.” He’s doubled over, and I grab his hair and yank his head back.
“And if you ever lie about me again, I will bury you, Carmichael.”
His nostrils flare and he grimaces but stays silent.
“And she’s to know nothing about this conversation. As far as she’s concerned, it never happened.”
If she married me for him, then she could leave me at his say so too.
He has his money, and even if it would be dangerous and stupid to risk incurring my wrath again, I wouldn’t put it past him.
So it doesn’t hurt to give him another reminder.
I jerk his head back as far as possible without tearing it off his shoulders.
“This arrangement between Alana and me ends when I say it ends, and not before. If she backs out of our agreement before the three years is up, I will do what you told her I would. I will hang you out to fucking dry. Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” he says through gritted teeth.
I contemplate discussing Layton Cooper with him, but until I have proof of any of that, I’ll keep it close to my chest. I release my grip on his hair, and his chin drops. “Don’t make me regret letting you live, you piece of shit.”
I leave Carmichael sniveling on the couch.
Why does it matter to me so much that Alana believes I blackmailed him?
I shouldn’t give a shit what she thinks.
But I do. It also matters that she didn’t marry me for my fucking money or the lifestyle I can give her.
She did it out of love and devotion to that sniveling prick.
And while a part of me admires her loyalty, it also makes me much more certain that I can’t trust her.
Because how deep does her loyalty to him run, and how far is my wife prepared to go to keep her father happy?