A.J. Kinsey knew he was never meant to love until he meets the one woman he'll break all the Cheaters Club rules for...even if it leaves him broken.
written by @MarriedtoArod
Updates on Fridays
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Before I open my mouth to respond, another member raises his finger.
"I'll take Mrs. Rothschild."
Derrick, David, Dickhead—whatever his name is settles back in his seat and gives me a smirk.
Oh, we're gonna play it like that, huh?
"Mrs. Rothschild lives in SoHo and is married to BioRon Sciences & Biotechnology CEO, Ellis Rothschild," says Holden and clicks the remote.
The picture on the screen changes, and I recognize the white-haired man as the one I mistook as Madeleine's father—she wasn't kidding. Several more photographs click across the screen: the couple at various charity functions, galas, and red-carpet events, Ellis with his hand on Madeleine's back. A picture of their condo's newly renovated exterior, a building with Inner City Hearts in bronze letters over a door, their two dogs, no pictures of children.
"BioRon is historically one of the fasting growing global companies in biotech and pharmaceuticals—unprecedented, in fact—which leads us to believe Mr. Rothschild's business practices aren't all by the books. The company plans to reveal their biggest endeavor at the New York International Medical Expo next month, one they describe as an industry-changer. The security surrounding the project and studies has been impenetrable. And if Mr. Rothschild had anything to do with the downfall of MediGen, the biotech company that he left and that shortly went under when he accepted his position at BioRon, then there's something to be found by the Club."
I stare at Madeleine's smiling face on the screen. How did she end up with this guy? As much as I can't deny that Mr. Rothschild has scumbag written all over him, even without the proof, I can't let Madeleine be a pawn in one of Holden's schemes.
"All their personal information should be here." Holden slides a glossy black file folder across the table to Dickhead. My eyes follow it like a greedy coyote waiting for its turn at the leftovers as it reaches his hands. I want what's in that folder, but it isn't going to happen without taking the case—and I don't need to add to the list of unforgiveable things I've done. Holden continues, "I expect an update by the end of this week, Dylan. And if you don't make progress, I will hand it over to the next member."
"No problem." Dylan leafs through the papers then closes it and lays a possessive hand over the Club's logo. I catch his eye, and this time I get an arrogant smile. I don't foresee me and Dickhead Dylan trading secrets and braiding each other's hair.
Welcome to my shit list, brotha.
Holden moves on to the next potential client while I commit everything I've learned about Madeleine to memory. It'll take some research, but the details from the meeting will be enough to start. More photographs of women and their husbands with their pretentious portfolios flicker on the overhead screen. Holden drones on about them and hands out more glossy black folders—one finds its way into my hands. A few members relay updates on their clients since the last meeting while others list potential leads.
