Page 30 of Filthy Little Games

Once we get married and share the news, everyone will be shocked.

Oh. That’s what she’s doing, trying to pretend as if we’ve been in a clandestine relationship for a while. One we didn’t tell anyone about.

The woman isn’t just drop dead beautiful; she always seems to be one step ahead of me.

“She’s naked.” Tristan sits up and stretches his arms overhead for a better look at her, causing Zara to clutch my suit fabric tighter in her free hand.

“She’s not naked. She’s wearing my jacket. And stop looking at her like that,” I warn him.

“But she’s naked underneath your jacket?” Dre chimes in. He tilts his head as if doing so will help him see up the jacket. “Who is she and why is she standing in your penthouse naked, Creed?”

“Stop staring at her!” I yell at the two of them. I really wish this introduction could’ve waited until Zara was fully dressed. I don’t like having anyone else get to admire the view of her beautiful body in my clothing. That pleasure should only be mine.

Not that she’ll ever let me touch her beauty…

“Whoa, boss. What the hell has gotten into you?” Dre’s eyes lower to the towel wrapped around my upper thigh. “Are you drunk? What the hell happened to your leg?”

I rub my forehead and start to think I’m in way too deep with a woman I shouldn’t trust and who will probably end up drowning me. “No, I’m not drunk and my leg is fine. It’s just a little cut.”

Getting to his socked feet, Dre pads toward us, sniffing the air. He stops abruptly about three feet away, his face blanching as he presses his fist to his nose. “Damn. What’s that god awful smell?”

“It’s been a long night. Can you two leave us now?”

Despite my warning, and the stink, Tristan gets up and moves closer, watching Zara fidget with the buttons on my suit. He’s gawking at her all bleary-eyed and slack-jawed, as if she’s the most fascinating creature he’s ever seen. “She’s a sexy little thing, isn’t she? I bet she’ll be worth every penny. Hell, I’d like to invest in that ass…”

One second, he’s ogling her, and the next, I have the side of his face pinned to the glass coffee table. Lowering to his ear, I say, “Repeat that for me. I must have misheard you. It sounded a helluva lot like you were insinuating she’s a whore.”

“Fuck, Creed. It was a joke,” Dre grumbles from behind us.

“Does it look like I’m laughing?”

“Just tell us she’s off-limits before someone ends up dead,” he replies.

Dre has no idea someone already did end up dead for touching her. That’s how Izaiah signed his own death warrant, and why I made the rash decision not to hold off on getting revenge for Carmine.

“She’s off-limits,” I say through clenched teeth. Tomorrow they’ll find out just how off-limits she is when I tell them she’s my wife. Maybe this marriage idea is batshit crazy, but it’s better than the alternatives. “Apologize to her.”

“Yes, boss,” Tristan replies. “Sorry…ma’am.”

“Her name is Zara.”

“Sorry, Zara. I shouldn’t have assumed you were a whore just because of the way you’re dressed.”

“Fuck off.” I press down hard on his face before I release my grip on his scalp.

Tristan straightens to his full height and fixes his tee. “Honestly, boss, she could just as easily be selling thin mints instead of ass. How old is she? Legal age, right? Did you check her ID before she lost her…clothes?”

“Do you want me to throw you out a goddamn window tonight?” I ask him.

“What did I say now?” He looks between Dre and me as if he has no idea why I’m pissed off. “I don’t want you getting brought up on any new charges.”

“She’s not that young,” I assure him, although I can’t recall exactly how old the background report said she was. “Zara?” I ask, relieved that so far, she’s kept her mouth shut, but I hate that I’m blowing her whole plan of pretending we’ve been seeing each other in secret.

“I’m twenty-seven,” she answers.

“See. She’s twenty-seven. That’s only a nine-year age gap.”

“Well, I couldsayI’m twenty-nine, but that doesn’t make it true,” Tristan remarks. “That’s how they get you.”

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