Chapter 46
Chapter 46
Stewart slipped one hand into his pocket, his sharp gaze lowered as he looked at Rosita. His voice was calm but distant. “Go home and get some rest.”
With that, he closed the car door.
The sound wasn’t loud or abrupt, but it startled Rosita so much that she sat frozen for several seconds before she snapped out of it.
The car was already moving. She rolled down the window and craned her neck to look for Stewart, but all she caught was the back of him stepping into the elevator.
“Carl, stop the car.”
Carl was Stewart’s longtime personal assistant–sharp, discreet, and always attuned to Stewart’s moods.
Tonight, Stewart was clearly not in a good place.
Glancing at her in the rearview mirror, Carl spoke gently but firmly. “Ms. Lockwood, Mr. Wentworth made it clear–my job is to see you home safe. Please don’t make this difficult for me.”
At that, Rosita lowered her head and clenched her hands in her lap, silent.
Inside the neon–lit private lounge, Briony stood alone–slender, upright, and out of place.
Ten shot glasses lined the table in front of her, filled with everything from vodka to whiskey to sickly–sweet cocktails.
Across from her, Mack sprawled in the center of the couch, legs crossed, arms draped around two women. His smirk was pure arrogance. “You finish all those drinks, and I’ll talk to you. Or, since we’re family, I’ll give you a second option.”
Briony wasn’t a drinker, and the room was packed with rich, reckless young men. If she downed those shots, she knew things would only spiral further out of her control.
She narrowed her eyes. “What’s the second option?”
Mack’s grin widened. “Look around. Every guy here comes from old money. Don’t say I never did anything for you. You like flirting with men, don’t you? Go ahead–pick any one of my friends and seduce him. If you can pull it off, I’ll give you whatever you want. That’s a promise–from your loving little brother.”
Briony stared him down, her laugh cold. “Mack, you really are Malcolm Kensington’s son.”
Crash!
A crystal glass shattered at Briony’s feet.
Cold liquor and shards sprayed across the floor. Briony winced as a piece of glass sliced the back of her hand, blood welling up and dripping onto the carpet.
“What the hell gives you the right to say my father’s name?” Mack shot to his feet and lunged at Briony, seizing her by the throat and slamming her back against the wall.
The shock of the cold wall made her blanch, but she glared at him–defiant, furious, unbroken.
“Mack, don’t forget–without Mom carrying you for nine months, you wouldn’t even exist!”
“So what if she gave birth to me?” Mack snarled back. “She’s a useless woman who never did a damn thing for the Kensingtons except have kids. If it weren’t for my father, this family would be nothing. She was just a burden, lucky to be kept around, and instead of gratitude, she murdered him! And you think I’m like my father? What about you?!”
His grip tightened, his rage barely contained. “You’re every bit as poisonous as Julia! What kind of daughter
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Chapter 46
begs for mercy for her father’s killer? You’re a traitor–just like Julia. You both deserve to die!”
Briony’s face turned crimson as she clawed at Mack’s hand, desperate for air, but his grip only hardened. He’d trained as a boxer since childhood, and his strength was terrifying.
Her resistance faded. Her arms dropped. She slid helplessly toward the floor.
As she collapsed, Briony barely registered the lounge door flying open with a violent kick.
And just before the darkness swallowed her, she thought she saw a tall figure rushing toward her-
