Saintess's Worthless Husband Turned Dragon Commander novel Chapter 33

CHAPTER 33 PART 1

Riley finally turned his attention fully to Marcus, his smile still perfectly calculated. “Quinn, darling, you haven’t properly introduced the man beside you.”

Before Quinn could respond, Mother Ridge interjected with false sweetness. “Oh, I assumed he was your driver, dear. You know, hired help for the evening?” Her laugh tinkled like breaking glass.

Quinn’s Saintess aura flared brilliantly, golden light pulsing with indignation. “This is Marcus Steel. My husband.

The emphasis on the last word carried divine authority that made even Mother Ridge’s smile falter slightly.

“Husband!” Riley’s eyebrows rose theatrically. “Of course! I’d heard you’d… married. How wonderful!” He extended his hand to Marcus, his grip designed to be crushingly firm-a power play disguised as friendliness. “So tell me, Marcus, where do you work? What field are you in?”

Marcus took Riley’s hand with a disarming smile. “At home, living off my wife.”

The honesty was so unexpected that several people at the table froze mid-motion.

Then Marcus squeezed.

His dragon-enhanced strength compressed Riley’s hand like a vice. Bones ground together. Riley’s face went from smug to shocked to pained in rapid succession. He tried to maintain his smile, but a strangled yelp escaped his throat.

“Excuse me,” Riley gasped, yanking his hand free and cradling it against his chest. “I need to-restroom-”

He practically fled, his polished composure cracking as he disappeared down the hallway.

In the bathroom, Riley locked himself in a stall and pulled out his phone with his good hand, dialing with shaking fingers.

“Brother Snake? Yeah, it’s Riley.” His voice carried none of his earlier charm-just cold calculation. “I need a favor tonight. There’s someone who needs to learn respect. Quietly. Professionally.” A pause. “I’ll send you the details. Be ready.”

Riley returned wearing his charming smile again, though his right hand remained stiffly at his side. His eyes found Quinn immediately, lingering with open desire that made her skin crawl.

She instinctively leaned closer to Marcus, their shoulders touching. The gesture wasn’t lost on anyone at the table.

“Well then!” Riley said with forced enthusiasm. “Let’s order! Quinn, what would you like?”

Before Quinn could answer, Karen jumped in. “Oh, Riley knows Quinn’s tastes perfectly! They grew up together! Riley, why don’t you order for her? Show Marcus how someone who truly knows her would treat her.”

Mother Ridge nodded eagerly. “Yes! Order for Quinn, dear. A Saintess should dine with someone who appreciates her sacred status and refined palate.”

The trap was obvious. If Riley ordered Quinn’s favorites perfectly, it would demonstrate an intimacy that Marcus couldn’t match. If Marcus protested, he’d look insecure and controlling.

Quinn clutched Marcus’s hand under the table, her fingers tense. But Marcus remained calm, seemingly unbothered, casually perusing the menu.

Riley seized the moment. “I remember everything, Quinn. You love the pan-seared duck with cherry reduction.

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And that delicate truffle risotto you always ordered when we were younger.” He turned to the waiter with practiced confidence. “We’ll have that, along with the chef’s special tasting menu. Only the finest for the Sacred Saintess.”

“How thoughtful!” Karen gushed. “Marcus, you could learn something from Riley’s attentiveness.”

“Indeed,” Father Ridge added. “A man should know his wife’s preferences intimately.”

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CHAPTER 33 PART 2

Riley leaned back with satisfaction, then launched into his prepared speech. “You know, I turned down three job offers in Europe. Million-dollar positions. But I couldn’t accept them.” His eyes found Quinn’s with calculated sincerity. “Because Grayson City has something-someone-far more valuable than any salary could match.”

He raised his wine glass toward Quinn. “To the Sacred Saintess. May she always shine as brightly as her divine aura.”

Everyone except Marcus raised their glasses, cheering enthusiastically.

Marcus continued eating the appetizers that had been served, drinking his water, completely unperturbed by Riley’s performance.

Riley interpreted the lack of reaction as cowardice. The smile on his face widened with contempt.

Then Marcus spoke, his voice casual. “This wine is terrible.”

The table went silent.

“What?” Riley’s smile froze.

“The wine,” Marcus repeated, gesturing to Riley’s glass. “It’s cheap. Barely above grocery store quality. For someone claiming to turn down million-dollar offers, you’re serving your beloved Sacred Saintess’ wine that costs maybe thirty dollars a bottle.”

Riley’s face flushed. “That’s… that’s a perfectly respectable-”

“Respectable,” Marcus interrupted gently, “is a word people use when they can’t afford good.” He turned to the sommelier. “What’s your best vintage?”

The sommelier, recognizing potential profit, immediately brightened. “We have a 1982 Château Pétrus, sir. Exceptional vintage. Eighty thousand dollars per bottle.”

Gasps around the table.

“We’ll take two,” Marcus said simply.

“Marcus!” Quinn whispered urgently. “That’s-”

“Two bottles,” Marcus confirmed to the stunned sommelier.

Riley’s face went from flushed to pale. That was one hundred sixty thousand dollars in wine alone. More than his actual monthly salary, despite his bragging about million-dollar offers.

“Excellent choice, sir!” the sommelier departed eagerly.

“Now THAT,” Father Ridge said with grudging approval, “is how you show appreciation for a Saintess.”

Riley scrambled to save face. “Of course! I was just about to order the Pétrus myself! Marcus simply beat me to it!” He forced a laugh. “Great minds think alike, I suppose!”

The bottles arrived with appropriate ceremony-two absolutely perfect specimens of one of the world’s most expensive wines. The sommelier opened them with reverent care, allowing them to breathe.

Then Marcus did something that made everyone’s eyes bulge.

He grabbed one bottle by the neck and drank directly from it.

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Not a polite sip. Not a tasteful pour into a glass. He tilted the eighty-thousand-dollar bottle back and chugged it like cheap beer at a college party.

“MARCUS!” Karen’s shriek could probably be heard in the kitchen. “What are you DOING?”

Marcus lowered the bottle-now half-empty-and wiped his mouth casually. “Drinking. It’s decent. Little acidic, but the tannins are smooth.”

“You… you…” Karen couldn’t form words, her face cycling through shades of purple. “You just drank FORTY THOUSAND DOLLARS like it was WATER!”

“Disgraceful!” Mother Ridge added, her voice shrill. “Absolutely disgraceful! This is how you treat a gift? How you behave in polite company?”

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