Page 68 of Inflame

I can tell she is not impressed. He arrived in Las Vegas around 10:53 p.m. according to the notification I set on my phone and checked in to a room a few floors below us. For the past two hours, he has been hitting up the casino. Pretty sure he cares more about the possibility of furthering his wealth than actually caring about his beloved girlfriend.

“Please, you’re hurting me.”

I count to ten and resist breaking through the door to get to her. I do not need to get involved in their drama. Claire can take care of herself. She doesn’t need me interfering in her domestic disputes.

I go back and lie on the bed, trying to clear my thoughts of how freaking sexy she looked leaving tonight for a night out on the town. How she settled for Maxwell is mind-boggling. She is the polar opposite of his ex-wife—in appearance and in personality, so it seems. I never met her. But just looking at the file I have gathered seems to give that impression.

“You look like a whore,” his snarly voice breaks through my thoughts.

“Just because you’re drinking doesn’t give you the right to treat me this way,” Claire yells back.

My phone buzzes with an incoming text.

Graham: What the hell is going on out there?

Nic: Maxwell arrived and got himself intoxicated. Arguing with Claire.

Graham: Angie is going to burst out of this room if I don’t keep her contained. You know how she is always on Team Claire.

I smile at Angie’s loyalty to her best friend. I am not surprised. I move closer to the door and decide to see the situation for myself. The suspense is wearing me thin.

I open the door and see Claire—still dressed like a naughty minx—with her balled-up fists resting against her slender hips.

“I’m not going with you when you are this out of it,” she declares.

“You are going to my room,” he demands, gripping her upper arm so tightly, I can see the tension in her shoulder blades.

“Claire, go to your room and stay there,” I direct, causing her body to whip around and stare at me—and as a result, detach herself from her asshole boyfriend.

“What—”

“Just do it. I’ll make sure Ethan gets to his room safely. You guys can hash this out in the morning. We can all go out for breakfast.”

Even just the idea of getting pancakes again makes her scurry off into her room, leaving Maxwell to deal with me one-on-one.

“Was that necessary?” he asks, anger evident in his tone.

“Yes.”

“She’s mine to boss around.”

I shrug, not even surprised he sees her that way. What does surprise me is how Claire refuses to see the fucker for what he is—a narcissistic, chauvinistic liar. “Sure. But this trip is for my brother and his fiancée. You’re the outsider. So play by our rules or go the fuck home.”

“Fine,” he snaps. He looks like he wants to say more but at least has the common sense to keep his mouth shut. I’m not in any type of mood right now to control myself. I’m still bubbling with anger from the way he grabbed her arm.

“Go to your room and sober up. Just know that just because you two are dating doesn’t give you the right to treat her like shit. I won’t stand for it.”

“Why do you care?”

I grin. “Because I don’t get off on women crying, like you do.”

His expression goes cold and he stumbles over to the door. I help him into the hall by pushing him along. It may even be a tad bit aggressive on my part, but without any witnesses, maybe it didn’t even happen.

It is just like taking out the trash, except that even after he leaves, the situation still stinks.

20

CLAIRE

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