Page 23 of Filthy Little Regrets

Dark blue irises, endless like the ocean, search my face.

Someone beside us clears their throat. “Get a room, Red,” a guy grumbles.

Confusion morphs to irritation, and that shimmer of violence I catch from time to time radiates from Mace. The hairs on my forearm rise. He cuts a sharp look toward the man. The guy is wearing a department store suit and a sneer until he spots the way Mace is watching him.

He doesn’t even have to speak to make the threat known. The guy blanches and faces forward again, smartly minding his own business. I tilt my head. Everyone was always intimidated by him in high school, and I guess things haven’t really changed.

The elevator stops at the floor for some accounting firm, and they all shuffle off, creating space I desperately crave. My hands fall away from Mace, and I move to step back, but he catches my chin in his firm grip. Warmth bursts inside of me.

The doorsswooshclosed.

“Don’t start games you’re not ready to play,” he warns.

His intimidation tactics might work on other people, but I’m not going to let him push me around. “I’m not afraid of you.”

He runs his thumb along my bottom lip. “You should be,Little Red.”

“Height jokes are beneath you, Mace.”

He smirks. “I like the name.”

“Are you the big bad wolf?” I ask with a sardonic laugh.

Mace leans in until our noses brush. “I’d eat you if you’d let me.” His breath tickles my skin.

Tension crackles between us, electric and dangerous. Allit would take is a few centimeters for our mouths to crash together. That magnetic energy Mace has threatens to snare me. It would be easy to get lost in lust rather than my anxiety. I’m tempted, but the kiss was meant to give me some type of control, not hand him everything he wants on a silver platter. The elevator stops and the moment breaks. I press my lips together.

Mace pulls back first, lifting an eyebrow. “Don’t forget to pretend like you like me,” he says as the doors open and reveal one of the nicest jewelry stores I’ve ever seen.

Rows and rows of diamonds glitter under the warm white glow of the overhead lights. Gold bands, silver, white gold. Rocks big enough to make me wonder why anyone would wear it. Smaller, more conservative rings, and even those I’d never be able to afford on my own.

A few couples mill about, carefully searching the rings one by one. I swallow the dry ache in my throat. They’re all here because they actually love each other. It’s hard to watch as one guy puts his arm around his fiancée and they kiss.

It’s too harsh a reminder of what I’ll never have. All my attempts at dating ended, either because the guys were total douchebags, or because I was too afraid to lose something before I even had it. As sad as it might seem, keeping my heart protected has always been worth more than fleeting moments of happiness before inevitable heartbreak.

Mace places his hand on my lower back and guides me out of the elevator. My heart clenches. After so much loss, it’s a cruel twist of destiny that my marriage would be fake. Almost like fate is mocking me for choosing not to date. If I won’t open myself to romance, it’ll thrust always and forever upon me and laugh as my life is obliterated.

God is a petty-ass bitch.

Definitely going to hell for that thought.

Mace nods at one of the employees when she makes eye contact, and she rushes over to help us.

“Welcome in. Did you have an appointment?” she asks.

“No, but my fiancée wants to be a part of her ring selection.” Mace drapes his arm over my shoulder. “She can have whatever she wants.”

I don’t want to get married. How about that?

The woman, who’s wearing a simple black uniform dress and a gold nameplate that readsBarbie, raises her eyebrows. “Well, okay, we love to hear that, don’t we?” She grins at me like we’re in on some secret. Little does she know, I’m only here to avoid being thrown into the ocean with a brick tied to my ankle. I bare my teeth in an attempted smile, but it doesn’t trip her up. She’s probably used to rich assholes.

“What sort of rings do you like?” Barbie asks me.

I gaze around the room, a little overwhelmed by all the options. I’ve spent plenty of time looking at jewelry online, but I never really pictured myself coming to pick out a ring for a fake marriage.

Had I known last week I’d piss off the mafia and suddenly find myself careening toward a marriage I don’t want, I would have prepared. You know what they say—when life throws you lemons, it really fucking hurts. Not as much as I’m about to hurt Mace’s wallet, though.

“I’m thinking something really,reallyexpensive.”

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