The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge

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.

her focus

hotel manager hurried over. One look at

"M-Mr. Langford..."

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

anywhere else, the receptionist might have actually called the cops, and even if McNeil talked his way out, it would take

disturbing us," McNeil ordered. Then, without warning, he hoisted Victoria over

only tightened his grip—and, right there in the open, delivered a sharp slap

give everyone out there a front-row seat

of his hand left her breathless. This time, McNeil wasn't

front of him. She'd had a bit to drink-not much, but

high and desperate. In the stillness of the late-night lobby, her cries echoed, making anyone

night-shift clerks

Mr. Langford's

the same Violet Marchand who's

ill. She

penthouse suite, McNeil tossed Victoria

off his suit jacket, yanked loose his tie, and even his shirt barely survived