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Chapter 95: Grandpa Reagan
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... he villa. I thought she’d be too pissed—or too tired. But there she was, walking in with her grandfather, fashionably late for dinner. Not that it mattered. We hadn’t started yet anyway. I was far too busy plotting Alejandro Madrigal’s unfortunate, deliciously brutal demise. Sophia asked for my help, and of course, I agreed.
Not out of kindness—don’t insult me. No. I agreed because I want to claw that bastard’s eyes out. He keeps ogling my wife like she’s something he can have. News flas ...
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