Page 43 of Filthy Little Regrets

“What is happening right now?” Cassia asks.

Crue and I share a knowing smile, and he nods at her, respecting the boundary I just laid down, before heading out. When the front door shuts, Cassia walks around me, looking at the space Crue vacated.

“What in the caveman was that?”

“He touched you,” I say with a shrug. “No one touches my wife.”

“One, I’m not your wife yet. Two, you’re unhinged. You know that, right?”

“I got my point across.”

“Did you need to hit him to do it?”

“Yes.” I pause for a second. “Probably should have castrated him.”

She scoffs, shakes her head, and walks toward the stairs. “Great, I’m marrying a lunatic,” she mutters to herself.

A smile cuts across my face. I love it when she walks away.

twelve

CASSIA

Orion Investigations offers a familiar comfort that’s much needed after an annoying breakfast with Mace. Outside of breathing, he didn’t exactly do anything wrong, except insist his hired car take me into the city when I’m perfectly capable of going on my own. Oh, and he reminded me of his bed-sharing rule, like I was a child in need of scolding.

He can shove his California king up his tight, muscled ass.

Being told what to do irritates the shit out of me, but it’s even worse when I feel like my freedom is slowly being stripped away. Will I ever get to go to work on my own again?

Elliot, the driver Mace instructed to bring me to the city, opens the door to the town car. I slide out, thank Elliot, since he’s not the asshole in this situation, and head to unlock the door to Orion Investigations.

The new phone Mace gave me to replace the one he launched into the pool chirps as soon as I’m inside.

MACE

I see you made it safely.

Narrowing my eyes, I glance out of the lightly tinted windows, but Elliot is gone. My gaze zips to the camera pointed at the door.

Smile.

This is next level creepy, you know that, right?

Maybe, but I kind of like watching you.

Do me a favor and bend over.

Fuck you.

Stop threatening me, you’re making me blush.

Scoffing, I lock the phone and head to my desk with a scowl. I don’t understand him. One minute, he’s allI saved your lifeand the next, he’s alldon’t fucking touch my wife, and now he’s allhehe, I want to bang. I’m having a hard time keeping up.

Another alert dings. I cast a glare at the camera, then check the message.

The officiant will be here tonight. I ordered you a dress.

A dress. The officiant. It’s really happening. I’m going to become Cassia Astor. Cassia Harris will be a name everyone forgets. Am I losing part of myself in this deal? Even worse, do I even know who I am?

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