Page 65 of Corrupted Bride

“Son, you got a keeper here,” Pruitt says, slapping my back and grinning as he pours whisky into his mouth.

“I agree,” I say though a part of me twists and turns at that word, keeper, since Mari’s never going to be mine, not forever.

Pruitt introduces us to a Dallas developer, a big man with a loud voice, and I don’t catch his name. There’s an older woman who donated half the money used to build a new local library, and a lobbyist obsessed with solar panels, which Pruitt calls that silly green shit and winks at me behind the lobbyist’s back.

If not for Mari, I’d lose my fucking mind.

These people. These slimy shits. They act like they’re holy. Like following a few rules, winning some elections, and smiling real good for the cameras absolves them of all their sins.

Except it doesn’t. Pruitt’s even more corrupt than I am. Half the people in here are on the take, either from me or from someone like me. Envelopes of cash slosh around like alcohol in a glass, and that’s supposed to be normal. But if they got the chance, everyone would turn their backs on me in a second, treat me like a pariah, all because I have the poor manners not to act like I’m a good person.

“Bass, I don’t want to complain, but I don’t know how much longer I can stand smiling like this.” Mari presses herself to me and whispers in my ear. We’re alone for the moment tucked beside the bar at the far end. Pruitt disappeared with his loudmouth wife to bother someone else, but I know the reprieve will be short-lived. He wants a taste of the corridor cash and he’ll get it. Unless I want the drugs to stop flowing.

“You’re doing great, baby.” I have my hand on the small of her back still. I haven’t moved it for hours. I can’t help myself. I’m oddly possessive of her, and every time I catch a man staring at her for too long, his gaze moving down to her supple tits, I subtly step closer to him until he learns to look away. All night, it’s been a dance of intimidating her suitors into looking at the floor.

“Seriously, how do you do this?”

“Vince handles it usually.”

“So why are we here again?”

“They want to see you.” I steer her to the side, into a dark section near where the servers come and go. “They want to stare at the Don’s pretty young wife.”

“I doubt anyone’s calling me that.”

“Are you joking? You haven’t noticed?”

“Noticed what?”

“God, Marisol. The men in this room can’t take their eyes off you. They all want to fuck you.”

She laughs and shoves me. “Shut up. That’s not true.”

I grab her hips and pull her close. “Yes, it is true. They want to rip that dress off your body. They want to fill you from behind, make your beautiful ass slap against them.”

“Bass!”

“Except they don’t get to touch you, do they?”

“Of course not. Don’t be disgusting.”

“No, only I get to fuck you.”

She stiffens. “Bass…”

“I get to rip that dress off when we get home. I get to grab you by the hair, bend you over our bed, and fuck your beautiful little pussy until you scream. I get to fill you, love, again and again, until you break for me.”

She chews her lip, and I can see the pulse in her neck going wild. “You should stop.”

“Why?”

“Because if you keep talking, I’m going to make you leave.”

“Maybe you should.”

“Don’t we have to stick around until the end?”

“I don’t care. Vince will handle the complaints.”