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“Did you just insinuate I got paid to sleep with the guy? Is that what I look like to you? You see a North Shore girl and you automatically assume I’m a sex worker? And on top of that, you think every sex worker is a thief?”
“Y-you’re not?”
“What the fuck do you think we all do on our side of the river? Sell our bodies to rich fucks like Nate? Go around Stoneview looking for the first billionaire who’ll stick it in us for a few bucks?”
She flinches when I raise my left hand, probably thinking the North Shore trash is going to hit her. I would have under any other circumstances. I was never one to stop myself from punching a bitch. I hate letting anyone step on my toes, but I hate proving a South Bank cunt right even more.
She raises her hands in front of her, eyes squinting.
“See that?” I wave my fingers in front of her.
And for the first time, I really look at the ring Nate forces me to wear. It’s white gold, the round-brilliant cut looks elegant, and the diamond is big enough to not be missed, but not big enough to look like I’m trying too hard.
My nostrils flare in anger when I realize it’s fucking perfect. It’s classic, timeless, beautiful.
Marcie is looking at the ring with fear in her eyes, probably wondering what the hell I’m on about and why I’m suddenly silent.
“I’m his fiancée.” Oh, the words hurt. They do. They rip me apart from the inside, shred my dignity to pieces.
But it feels nice to watch her face fall and realize she isn’t going to be fucking Mr. White any time soon.
Call me possessive, but if the fucker is going to keep me here, I promise on my life he is not going to touch another woman.
“Marcie.” Nate’s stern voice startles her. She turns to watch him exit his office. “As much as I’d love to invite you to stay for coffee, your services aren’t needed anymore. Kayla and I have an appointment in less than an hour and, as you can see, she’s nowhere near ready.”
As he turns to me, something flashes in his eyes that I can’t describe. It’s fire and ice. He’s annoyed, but there’s something else.
He walks past Marcie, his expensive shoes clicking against the marble as he strides to me. Before I understand what he’s doing, he leans down, his shoulder hitting my stomach, and the world tilts as he flips me over. My head ends up by his gorgeous ass, and he wraps an arm around the back of my thighs.
“How many times do I have to tell you to get ready, woman?”
I grip the phone tighter with one hand, and with the other, I slap his back. “Put me down!” I rage.
When I look up, Marcie is heading toward the door, not questioning Nate’s request for her to leave or the fact that I’m being carried away by a fucking caveman.
As soon as the front door is closed, I hit his back again. “Did you know she wants to fuck you?”
His back shakes when he laughs. “Of course she wants to fuck me. I don’t know many women who don’t, and this one has seen me topless more times than I can count.”
Instead of tearing down his ego, I blow it up without even thinking. “What? Why? Who the fuck is she? Why was she here?”
I feel sick when he walks up the stairs. Suddenly scared he’s going to drop me, I fist his shirt with my free hand.
“She’s a doctor who works for me. She was here because my fiancée stabbed me yesterday, and it turns out that the wound was a lot deeper than I thought. I needed stitches.”
“Good.”
He slaps my ass so hard I shriek. “Don’t make a habit out of hurting me or you’ll see a lot more of Marcie. This might be news to you, but you’re not very good at hiding your jealousy.”
“I’m not fucking jealous,” I hiss.
“I’m his fiancée.” He imitates my voice a little too well to my liking.
“She said I was a sex worker!”
“She was trying to rile you up. She’s very possessive over me.”
“She needs to fucking die.”
