Chapter 25

McNeil all but dragged her, half-carrying, half-pulling Victoria as she stumbled into the hotel lobby.

The woman at the front desk immediately sensed trouble, her hand hovering over the desk phone.

"McNeil, let go of me. Do you enjoy forcing people?"

Victoria tried to wrench her arm free, but McNeil ignored her, tightening his grip.

"Penthouse suite. My ID. Phone number is...," he rattled off the digits, tossing his wallet onto the counter with an impatient flick of his wrist, never loosening his hold on Victoria.

The receptionist looked them over: a strikingly handsome man and a beautiful, impeccably dressed woman—on the surface, they seemed like the perfect couple. But something was off. The woman was resisting, her discomfort obvious, while the man refused to let go.

"Miss, do you need me to call the police?" the receptionist asked, stepping forward without hesitation.

McNeil's face darkened. "We're married," he snapped.

Victoria was pressed to his side, physically restrained. The absurdity of his words almost made her laugh.

focus on Victoria. "Miss? Are

the hotel manager hurried over. One look at McNeil and the color drained from his

"M-Mr. Langford..."

to breathe. With a single look from McNeil, the receptionist caught on instantly, and hurriedly handed over the

did have their fingers in every pie. If they'd been anywhere else, the receptionist might have actually called the

don't want anyone disturbing us," McNeil ordered. Then,

wriggle free, but he only tightened his grip—and, right there in the open, delivered

out there a front-row seat to our little love scene," he

This time, McNeil wasn't holding back-

him. She'd had a bit to drink-not much, but being carried around like this made

down!" Victoria shrieked, her voice high and desperate. In the stillness of the late-night lobby,

night-shift clerks

Langford's girlfriend,

the same Violet Marchand who's always

ill. She

suite, McNeil tossed Victoria onto the

suit jacket, yanked loose his tie,

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