Shattered Rose He Held On Tight novel Chapter 31

Shattered Rose He Held On Tight

Chapter 31 The Setup

Finally freed from the drinking gauntlet, the two guys let out matching sighs of relief.

Then Whitney dropped the next bomb.

6500

Finished

“You,” she pointed at the guy in glasses, then at Quade, “park it on his lap and feed him a drink.”

Before Glasses could even process that, she swung to the heavyset guy. “And you–wrap your arms around Quade from behind and kiss his neck.”

The big guy’s eyes went saucer–wide. “Come on, you’ve gotta be kidding me. Just kill me instead!”

That’s Mr. Zimmer! How am I supposed to do that to him?

Whitney cracked her knuckles. “Gonna do it? Or should I break an arm? Maybe a leg?”

Terror washed over his face.

He believed her. She looked dead serious.

One glance at the other woman–cold, merciless–and both guys caved. Grimacing, they shuffled into the ridiculous pose.

The sight was just too much.

Whitney gagged, dry–heaving hard.

The spoiled rich kids who’d envied those two for dodging the worst earlier suddenly felt grateful.

Compared to this, they’d rather drink themselves into a coma.

Claudia, playing fashion photographer, started directing the unwilling models. She frowned, adjusting their angles.

“You,” she told Glasses, “unbutton his shirt. There. That’s the money shot.”

Then to the big guy: “Pull his collar lower. Get your face closer to his neck. Good. Don’t let that big mug of yours show.”

“Perfect,” she said, satisfied. “Steamy. Exactly the vibe.”

Click, click. Claudia snapped away.

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20:05 Wed, Oct 8

Chapter 31 The Setup

The two men looked like they were about to cry.

$50

Fmished

And it didn’t stop there. The others who thought they’d escaped–got roped into similar “artistic” shots. Every photo looked scandalous enough to dominate the front page.

The already woozy, wasted guys wished they could just pass out and be done.

The bar owner and staff found something very interesting to do in the opposite direction. Not their circus.

Whitney scrolled through the photos and shot Claudia a thumbs–up. “Girl, you’re ruthless–in the best way. If I hadn’t watched you set it up, I’d swear Quade just switched teams.”

Claudia smiled, easily. “You’re too kind. Just doing my job.”

When the men finally collapsed from booze overload, Claudia called an ambulance. Quade’s little “injury stint” had basically run its course anyway.

The bar owner, weirdly helpful, even sent a staffer to ride along and promised to call their families so Claudia didn’t have to deal with it.

She didn’t question it. She kicked back and casually sent the shots to a WhatsApp contact named Cloudy.

The reply popped up almost instantly. “What? When was this? Is this real?”

“Tonight. Staged.”

“Good enough. Quade’s finished.”

“[smiley emoji]”

“Thanks. I’ll handle the fallout. Dinner sometime?”

The Zimmers are old money–obsessed with reputation. Pride and face mean everything.

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