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“Get the hell off me.” Without care, I swing my arm out while trying to shake her off, and she teeters on what are ridiculously high heels.
“You bitch!” she shrieks, breaking skin as she holds on tighter.
I’m falling backwards and I grab onto the banister to keep myself up, smashing my elbow into the wood. “I’m not warning you again.” I can feel a few drops of blood weep down my arm where she’s tearing the dermis. “Let. Go.”
“You need to learn some respect.”
Cocking my other arm back, I move to strike when another arm appears, halting mine before it connects. “We don’t hit our guests, Lola,” Alton tsks, looking at me with disappointment. “Especially one that is family.”
“Family?” I’m ignoring the other comment; it’s hypocritical and a bait. He’s looking for a fight. “Your conquests are nothing to me.”
“Brittany is my fiancée, and you will respect her.”
“Goes both ways.”
“Don’t push me, kid. Know your place and shut your mouth.” Taking a step closer, he bends a bit at the waist, putting his face a hair’s breadth from mine. “Better yet, I need you to talk. You need to answer a few questions for me.”
“Tell that to your—” His hand wraps around my throat, silencing me. Alton’s grip is tight, nothing like the pleasurable one of Malcolm’s, and I’m panicking. My body thrashes against his, and I claw at his hand in desperation, something that amuses him by the grin on his face.
“Don’t get brave, little girl. This is my house, and I own you,” he spits out, pushing me backwards. There’s a step behind me and I tumble, the edge of the second and third landing digging into my back while the room grows quiet.
This is a first, and it shocks more than it hurts. I’m angry, my body visibly shaking as he towers over me with the smug rat he calls a fiancée smirking.
“I won’t tell you again.” Alton spits out, his hand coming down to cup my cheek, but before he can, I pull back. Stand up before he tries to touch me again, ignoring the shooting pain traveling up my backside. “We need to talk, London. Now.”
“Not interested. Good night.” Turning, I give him my back and place my foot on the next step.
“We aren’t done,” he thunders, while his girl laughs as if this is the funniest things she’s ever seen. Makes me wonder if she’s high herself.
“I am.” Another step. If I can take two more up without him following, it’ll give me the space I need to sprint up. However, his next words stop me in my tracks and a whooshing breath leaves me.
“How the fuck does Malcolm Asher know who you are?”
“I—”
“Answer me, Lola. Are you fucking me over with him?”
“Please, as if a man like that would ever look at her,” Brittany interjects, venom coating each word. There’s a hint of jealousy there that I just don’t understand.
For exactly thirty seconds I pray to come up with an answer that will save me. That he will believe.
It doesn’t come, but the sound of a knock on the door makes everyone pause.
14
I’VE GOT HER. ~Mariah
Javier looks over at me, and I nod. He grabs his phone, sending a text to the car in front of us with three of my men awaiting orders.
I heard enough a few minutes ago to burn this entire house down with its occupants inside.
Fuck, do I want to end this shit. Kill every single one of them, but I need to handle things in a way that benefits Twirl. That takes back what has been stolen.
They are lucky that I now know what I do.
That my P.I. gave me new information corroborating what Earl said before I left for the club last night. Not fifteen minutes after reading, I found myself rushing to meet her while spitting out orders for my men to be here this morning. We were just a few minutes away, and two streets down waiting for Mariah, when things escalated.
Whoever put their hands on her will lose the use of said hand.
