Page 93 of Bad Little Bride

Maybe that shouldn’t piss me off, but it does. Who is she to assume I’m poison ivy in a field full of flowers?

I level her with a firm expression. “Whomever you’re getting your information from, and I really hope it’s not the man who owes Enzo his loyalty—” I cut a sharp glare toward Bastian. “—I have nothing to hide from my fiancé, in relation to a man as irrelevant as Philip Mitchell is to me, or any other. So, if that’s your sell, you’ll find no buyers here. The fact that you’re willing to come into his home, and make such a promise, only further confirms you’re not to be trusted.”

“Trust is earned.” The green-eyed guy leans across the table with a frown. “You don’t have ours. We don’t have yours. Changes nothing. Tell us what we want to know.”

“Watch yourself, Maddoc.” It’s Bastian who speaks before I can, slowly moving to stand, and the guy is just as fast, the two in a sudden face-off.

I chance a glance at the girl, who grins up at the pair, chewing a piece of gum without a care.

“Get your ass kicked, Bishop.”Maddocgets angrier. “We can’t sit on this, and you know it.”

Bastian only tips his head, his expression as blank as ever. “I brought you here, did I not? You’re going to respect that girl and if you can’t do that for real, you’re going to fucking fake it. Her man is not one you want on your bad side, and you keep this up, none of us will make it out of this house without injury.”

“Sit down, Big Man.” Raven faces me, not caring if he actually listens.

He doesn’t.

“Look.” She pins me with her creepy-ass crystal eyes. “Tell me everything that happened at the club last night, every single detail of your night, and I’ll tell you why I want to know.”

How does she even know about that?

Several seconds of silence pass between us, and a look of triumph flashes across her features as she lounges back in her chair.

That little show of arrogance makes this all the more satisfying.

How I love to prove people wrong.

Without another word, I turn around and walk away.

“What the fuck?” I hear her say and then the chair scrapes. “Bass, this is your territory. Handle her before I do.”

“No.” I spin. “This is not his territory. You’re on Fikile grounds,mygrounds.”

“Your grounds?” She pops a black brow. “Five seconds ago, you saidhishome, so which is it, bad Barbie?”

“It’s go fuck yourself, punk princess.”

She smiles at that. “I could probably like you. Maybe.”

“Doubtful,” her dutiful man adds.

“I don’t care, and if you think I’d be easy for you tohandle, I’d find a better source than the guy my sister got the drop on.”

She pulls a switchblade from her pocket, flicking it open and dragging her thumb across the point. “Wanna test that theory?”

My fingers curl into the sleeves of my blazer, both palms now holding the sharp points of the daggers hidden there. “Do you?”

Her eyes fall to my hands as if she knows, and she gives a small nod, pivoting back to where she started. “He doesn’t have to know we’re here, Boston.”

She doesn’t have to say who she means, everyone here is aware of who she’s talking about, but I can’t be the only one who knows better.

“You’re only here because someone decided to allow you to be and make no mistake, Brayshaw, that someone was not the man beside you.”

Her frown is instant, and she cuts Bastian an accusing glare, though her question is for me. “You knew we were coming?”

“No.” I stand tall. “But if you think the man whose zone you stepped into didn’t, you’re not as smart as you think you are.”

The two whip their heads toward Bastian, who quite lazily looks from me to them.

---