Page 213 of Wicked Brutal

Jesus fucking Christ. She is feeding him exactly what he wants. Not I love you. Not I can’t wait to marry you. Nothing she can’t live with later. Just enough to make him feel like his approval matters. Like she wants him pleased with her. Like he’s finally winning.

“I brought you something.”

Her brows lift. “You did?”

“Two things, actually.”

“Oh.” Her smile gets brighter. “Now I’m even happier you came.”

He laughs — quiet, real — and Ally looks pleased with herself for getting it out of him.

Victor reaches inside his coat and pulls out a cream envelope. Ally’s attention drops to it. He holds it out.

She reads the name embossed across the front, and her eyes widen. “Celeste Fournier?”

This time the excitement doesn’t have to be entirely fake.

“She agreed to take the wedding.”

“You got her?”

“I told you I would.”

“I know, but you said she was almost impossible to book.”

“She is.”

Ally looks from the envelope to him. “And yet you managed it.”

There. Right fucking there. Victor practically grows two inches. “Of course.”

Ally laughs softly and takes the envelope. “I suppose I should’ve known better than to doubt you.”

Kaid glances at me. I ignore him. Because she’s brilliant, and Victor doesn’t hear the calculation in it. He hears admiration. Powerful men fucking love being reminded they can do things nobody else can.

Ally turns the envelope over in her hands. “When can I call her?”

“This evening. She’s expecting you.”

“Already?”

“If you’re available.”

“I’ll make myself available.” She opens the envelope and pulls out a thick card. “Should I have anything prepared? Colors, flowers, opinions about napkins.” Her lips twitch. “I’ve never planned a wedding. I’m not entirely sure how much expertise the bride is supposed to arrive with.”

“That’s why you have Celeste.”

“Thank goodness.”

Victor watches her, something warm and possessive in it. “You wanted to be involved.”

“I do.” No hesitation. She looks down at the card again. “I’m excited.”

He watches her a beat longer, like he’s checking the statement for seams. “Are you?”

She nods, and when she speaks again it’s quieter, pitched to sound like something she didn’t plan to admit. “I think I’ve spent so much time worrying about everything changing that I haven’t really let myself be excited about any of it.”

That one gets him. I can fucking see it land — his shoulders come down, his face softens. He hears what Ally wants him to hear. She’s settling. Accepting. Finally letting herself look forward to the life he and Roman picked for her.