Page 89 of Filthy Little Regrets
Bethany’s nostrils flare. “You little cunt.” She steps forward, and I see her intention coming from a mile away and jump up, catching her wrist seconds before she would have hit Adalie.
“I think the fuck not,” I snap, squeezing her wrist hard and wrenching her arm behind her back. She cries out, and Ellen starts screeching like a pterodactyl, calling for security. The players around us all stop what they’re doing to watch the show.
Yeah, eat it up, assholes!
“Well, well, well,” a smooth, deep voice that sends a shiver of excitement down my spine drawls. “What do we have here?”
All eyes shoot to where Mace stands, but I pointedly ignore him.
“Cassia?”
Holding Bethany’s wrist tight, enjoying how unnaturally still she is thanks to her fear, I shift my gaze to meet his. “How was your workout, sweetheart?”
Biting his lip, he fights a grin. “Wonderful, thanks for asking. Are you going to break her arm?”
“Undecided,” I confess.
Bethany whines. “Someone, please, save me!”
Melody snorts. “Calm your tits, Beth. It’ll mend itself.”
Ellen jabs her arm in our direction. “Mace!” she screeches. “Do something!”
He doesn’t even look at her. “What did they do?”
“We didn’t do anything! Your whor?—”
Mace holds up his hand and glares at Ellen. “Did I tell you to fucking speak?”
Her mouth snaps closed and her features crumple, eyes dropping to the concrete.
“Now, can someone other than Ellen or Bethany tell me what happened?”
“The usual,” I say with a shrug.
“Bethany tried to hit Adalie,” Melody offers.
Adalie nods. “And then...” She sweeps her hand toward the hold I still have on Bethany. “Have I mentioned I love your wife?”
His lips tip in amusement, but the smile quickly fades when he glances at Bethany. “It seems you forgot your place,” he murmurs. “Maybe I should let my wife break your wrist.”
“I’ll fucking sue you,” she seethes. “This is assault!”
“Hey, Bethany?” Mace steps toward us. “Shut up, or those photos of you with Senator Tippton will find their way to the news.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, but the tremble in her voice gives her away.
“You’re sleeping withGreg Tippton?” Ellen asks, rearing back.
“Fuck you, Ellen, we all know you’re sucking Judge Altman’s dick so he lets your daddy off.”
Ellen gasps. “Fuck me? Fuck you!”
Bethany jerks forward, moving toward her friend, but cries out when my hold stops her. “Argh!”
“Cassia, baby, you either have to break her arm or lether go,” Mace says, glancing around the club and nodding at everyone watching.
“And if I break her arm?”
