51. Renee

As soon as Weston says those words, the table goes nuclear. My father”s expression cuts to me and Deacon”s grip tightens at my nape like chains.

”You”re bluffing,” he sneers at Weston. ”That”s impossible.”

”Is it? Hm.” Weston rests his chin in his hands like he”s thinking deeply. ”Nah, I’d say it’s extremely fucking possible.”

”She”s my fiancée, asshole.”

”That word isn’t worth shit, my friend.” Weston smirks. ”I said what I said. So take your hands off my wife before I take them off for you.”

Deacon doesn”t listen. He continues to sneer and splutter wordlessly.

It”s my father who speaks first. ”Is this true, Renee?”

The whole table looks to me, breath bated. These people like to pretend they”re better than everyone else, but they”re ravenous for any kind of drama at the expense of others.

”Yes. Weston and I got married three days ago.” I hold my chin up. ”And this baby is his, not Deacon”s.”

Boom.

Boom.

Boom.

The men at the table exchange pointed looks and begin whispering among themselves. I”ll definitely be seen as some kind of whore and I”m fine with that. I don”t care about the opinions of Deacon”s gross little friends.

But I know Deacon does. And right now, he”s been viciously emasculated in a public setting. I”d feel sorry for him… if he wasn”t such a gigantic piece of shit.

My father exhales through his nose. ”I see.” He looks at the table. ”Leave, all of you. It seems I have some things to discuss with my daughter and her… husband.”

There”s mild disappointment among our guests. They want to see a show, and why wouldn”t they? It”s not every day that a DuBois disgraces her family name by having a secret shotgun wedding with a foul-mouthed, rough-around-the-edges jock who”s not her “fiancé.” Who knows when they”re going to get all the juicy details? Who”s to say Deacon will even have the balls to tell the truth?

But my father”s orders are orders, and they scurry off, leaving behind only Anastasia, my mother, and Deacon. My father eyes the two women remaining at the table.

”I said leave. The men are doing business.”

Anastasia does as told—no surprises there. My mother, however, remains. ”Come now, Alistair. I think I should?—”

”This matter is between myself and Mr. Scott. Clarence can drive you and Anastasia around while we”re speaking.”

My father”s chauvinism is trash—nothing new there—but there”s something satisfying about my mother, who has never had an issue with me being a victim of it, finally being angry that she”s on the receiving end of his boomer foolishness for a change.

She departs from the table with her nose held high, trying to retain her dignity as she marches out in Anastasia’s wake.

”Come. Sit, Weston.” My father looks to our hostess, who at this point is ten times as perplexed as she was when Weston first came in. ”More wine.”

The woman nods and skitters off. Meanwhile, Weston saunters to the table. He stands right in front of Deacon, towering over Deacon as he looks down on him.

”Your hands are still on my wife,” he rumbles coolly. “I thought I just told you what would happen if that continued.”

Deacon tries to buck up to Weston, though it”s more than a little bit hilarious to think of him doing anything remotely close to truly “bucking up” to anyone, let alone a professionally violent force of nature like Weston.

He wouldn”t last two seconds.

”Deacon. Sit.”

Weston nods in satisfaction when Deacon lets go of me and drops into his chair as soon as my father issues the command.

“What a good little lapdog you are,” he croons as he takes the chair beside me and loops a casual arm over my shoulders. “You must get so many treats.”

Deacon is sizzling, but he can’t even get a word in before my father raises a hand to silence him yet again. So he has to sit there, red-faced and spluttering, while Alistair DuBois folds his arms over his chest and aims a grim look across the white tablecloth at my actual husband.

”So. You”ve married.” My father hums in thought as he lights up a cigar. ”Do you have proof of this or am I to take your word?”

Weston reaches into his jacket pocket. ”I don”t come unprepared.”

He slaps our marriage certificate on the table. Mine and Weston”s names are on it, along with the judge who presided over the “ceremony,” and our witness, Sutton Medina.

It”s dated three days ago. Weston and I are newlyweds by all accounts—and especially as far as the law is concerned.

Legally, I can”t get married to Deacon. He”s entitled to nothing. Not one damn DuBois penny. Come to think of it, I’m probably gonna be entitled to the exact same amount pretty soon—but ask me if I give a shit.

Dad can keep his money. I’ve bought my own freedom.

He nods and purses his lips between puffs of his cigar. ”I see. And you were aware that Renee had an arrangement between myself and Deacon?”

Weston snorts a derisive laugh. ”You mean selling her off like she’s livestock? Yeah, I’m aware.”

”She agreed to it.”

”She was desperate. Besides, she was in that situation because of me, so now, I’m fixing it. In truth, we should have talked then, but since hindsight is twenty-twenty, we can talk about it now.”

My father actually looks interested. He is a businessman, after all. And Weston clearly came to talk business.

”I”m listening,” is all he says, though.

Weston leans forward and props his elbows on the table. ”You want a deal? We’ll make a deal. You forget all about this silly agreement you made with the thin-lipped fuck to my left over there who’s about to shit himself if you don’t let him off the leash. Bottom line: Renee and I are married, and we”re not annulling it because some beta male with a chip on his shoulder can”t make his own way without handouts from someone else”s father?—”

”You don”t know a goddamn?—!”

”Enough, Deacon,” my father cuts in, and Deacon immediately silences himself. My father”s attention turns back to Weston. ”So. You want to take on my daughter”s debt. Why is that?”

”Because I love her.”

”Yet you admit you”re the reason she had to come to me in the first place.” My father tilts his head to the side. ”You were the one who pressed charges against her. You believed she had stolen from you, and you were so angry at the alleged crime that you were willing to kick her out of the apartment you lived in, and set her up for a rather nasty theft case.”

When my father puts it all out there, I feel that sting of betrayal again.

But Weston”s hand finds mine beneath the table, squeezing it in reassurance. ”Mistakes were made. I”m not going to make them again.”

”Hm. What”s stopping me from speaking to my friends at the station to encourage them to reinstate the charges against Renee? Even if you were to recant your accusations… I could just bring charges of my own against her. If only to show Renee her actions will always have consequences.”

Weston smirks. ”Is now a good time to mention I”m recording this conversation?”

My father straightens up and—although maybe it’s just a trick of the low light or my own fevered imagination—but I could swear he goes pale, too. ”Excuse me?”

”You really think I was gonna come here and have a conversation with a man who was going to sell his daughter into marriage and not make sure I had proof if he tried to pull some equally bullshit nonsense with me?”

Dad opens and closes his mouth a few times before he finally finds his voice again. And maybe it’s yet another trick of the light, but it seems to me that he almost looks impressed.

Weston did not come to fuck around.

”You found an interesting one, Renee.” Finally, he turns his attention to me. ”You agreed to do this because it was the best way to secure your future and the future of your… child. The stipulations in your grandfather”s will?—”

”Said I could have my trust fund when I turned thirty, or I was married,” I interject. ”And at this point, I”ll be both before the year is out. If you try something funny, Weston and I have proof you intended to extort us. You have nothing?—”

”There”s the fact you agreed to fucking marry me,” Deacon interrupts, still so livid that his lips are almost purple. ”You were going to give me my heir! I was to take over?—”

”Enough, Deacon.”

This time, my father”s commands are not enough to stop Deacon from flying off the handle.

”No!” He thumps a furious fist on the table like a little toddler. “I was promised things, Alistair! I”m not going to let your slut daughter and some loser jock take what I”ve earned!”

Deacon is standing up now, and before my father can reel him in, he”s storming around the table toward Weston and me. Weston is on his feet well before Deacon can get close, a wall of immovable muscle between my former fiancé and me…

But there”s murder in Deacon”s eyes when he looks at me over Weston’s shoulder.

”You fucking bitch,” he spits at me. ”You think you”re getting out of this? You?—”

“Nah, I don’t fucking think so.”

When Deacon goes to lurch at me, Weston snares him by the throat. I know that look in Deacon”s eyes: he wants to hurt me. To hit me, slap me, belittle me. To put me in my place like he’s done so many other times before.

Well…

That’ll never happen again.

”You”re a little too comfortable trying to get at my wife like that,” Weston adds, his voice low and venomous.

”She needs it to stay in fucking line.”

A dangerous ripple goes through Weston. I”m on high alert. It”d only take one swing to vaporize Deacon forever—but that’s exactly what Deacon wants, isn’t it? He’d bring an army of lawyers down on Weston’s head, with the paparazzi backup to boot. The Weston Scott, prized Firebird, NHL All-Star, strung up on highly publicized charges of assault and battery?

But instead of taking the bait, to my surprise, Weston scoffs. He looks to my father. ”You”re a real piece of work, setting your daughter up with a man who puts his hands on women.” His attention flits back to Deacon. ”Now, unlike you, I don”t make a habit out of starting fights with people weaker than me—but I can make an exception for you if I have to.”

I’m terrified that Deacon”s going to push Weston to that point and we’re going to see an actual murder.

For one moment, it all feels so dangerously possible.

Then Deacon sniffs and steps aside, though his face stays screwed up in a deep scowl.

Weston nods. ”That”s what I thought.” Then he looks back at me and holds out his hand. ”This has been a real joy. I’ll remember it fondly forever. Now, if you”ll excuse me, gentlemen, I”m gonna take my wife home and fuck her absolutely stupid.”