Page 57 of Filthy Little Regrets

The priest clears his throat.

Mace lifts an eyebrow and tips his head toward the Father. Right. It’s my turn. I can’t bring myself to look at a holy man.

Mace’s attention drops to my lips as they part.

“I do.” The words are a soft whisper, but they reverberate through my head like I shouted them.

The priest drones on, wrapping up the ceremony, and my pulse jumps as he says three words.Kiss the bride. I pull back, but Mace drags me toward him, and it’s impossible to resist. He lets go of my hands, one hand diving into the strands of my hair and the other tipping my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze as he lowers his face toward mine.

The staccato of my heartbeat is so loud, he can probably hear it. His thumb strokes across my bottom lip, and his gaze seers into me, mouth dangerously close to mine.

“Now you’re really mine,” he murmurs before his lips crash into mine, ripping the air from my lungs and stealing the thoughts from my head. His tongue traces the seam of my mouth and the grip in my hair tightens. My lips part automatically in response. The low hum of his approval rumbles over me, trapping me in a kiss I wasn’t prepared for.

He demands submission, and as his tongue tangles with mine and his fingers hold me in place, I haveno choice but to give in. To let him drag me out to sea and pull me under, drowning me in passion I never expected to find in the arms of a man I’m forced to marry. My fingers grasp at his shirt, and I’m certain the only reason he breaks away is because we both need to breathe.

Panting, he pulls back enough to stare down at me, lips curling into a smirk that has his dimples appearing. It’s a look that women would fall for. I see the devil in his eyes, though.

I have to betray him. The thought whispers through my mind. My stomach sinks. I’ve been so distracted with the ceremony that I forgot about Paige, the FBI agent, threatening to deliver me and Rose to prison. Dare too.

I have to get close to Mace. Let him think I’ve given in. Get his guard down and find what I need to save my family. If he finds out what I’m doing...well, that wouldn’t be good for me.

I send a prayer to heaven, hoping I can get out of this marriage alive.

The priest flees the house like a rat being chased by a broom. With him gone, I worry less about being smited—smote?—and more about how to effectively lie to everyone around me without feeling like I’m dying. The truth prickles along my skin as Rose and I share a glass of wine on the couch in the den. Mace and Dare are talking in low voices on the other side of the room, tumblers in hand. The worst of the anxiety is gone now that the ceremony is over, but sadness lingers, hollowing out a part of me.

“So, how are you feeling?” Rose asks, curling her feet under her.

“Numb. Indifferent?”

She nods. “I was furious.” Her eyes soften. “Your dad would be so proud of you. You know that, right?”

I shake my head. “I’m a hacker struggling to survive. No, scratch that, I’m a hacker who fucked up big time, and now I’m in this”—I gesture between me and Mace—“situation. I think he’d be embarrassed, maybe disown me.”

“I don’t think so. Your dad loved you. He wasn’t like mine.”

She’s right. I probably could have held a gun to my dad’s head and he would have told me he loved me. He never used his love to manipulate.

“I miss him,” I admit, taking a big drink of wine.

“Of course you do.” She reaches over and side-hugs me. “Whatever you need, I’m here. We can go to a rage room if you want.”

That’s not a bad idea. Maybe beating the crap out of stuff with a bat will make me feel better.

Remy and Crue appear so suddenly, my eyebrows lift. I didn’t even hear the front door open.

“Mmm. Hello, Mrs. Astor,” Crue says with a wink. His nearly black hair is a tousled mess. He’s in joggers and a shirt that flatter his cut form, but he has nothing on Mace. “Let me know if you need a pool boy.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Mace mutters.

My attention zips to him and the visual daggers he’s throwing.

Crue hooks his thumb toward his friend, oblivious to the way Mace’s knuckles have turned white around the glass he’s holding. “Someone’s insecure.” Crue drops onto the couch beside me, maintaining enough distance that our bodies don’t touch, but obviously too close for Mace’s liking.

His jaw clenches. “Are you trying to piss me off?”

Crue ignores him and rests his arm on the back of the couch, turning toward me. “You know, I wasn’t sure how this would turn out for you two, but clearly, Mace is taken.”

I shake my head and take a sip, not getting involved in whatever this drama is.

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