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“Inari, just let me handle it.”
I couldn’t see the man talking to her. She was standing right in front of him.
“No.” She shook her head. “This is my problem. One of my boys started it. Luc and Venom are in the kitchen. I’ve put guards on them until the ambulance comes. Diego’s in 249, Max is up in 304. Keep them there for the rest of the night, I can’t be fucked dealing with them until tomorrow.”
Carl murmured soothing words to her, but I didn’t need to hear anymore. I was already off, heading straight for the stairs.
Max had told me the engagement was fake. I’d wanted to believe there were no feelings involved between him and Bun. Even if it was a business deal, you had to at least like each other. People didn’t get engaged for no reason.
The guilt that had seeped into my panic attacks, the way I’d hated myself for doing this to the woman I saw as a little sister. All the emotional turmoil over hurting Bunny. It was all for nothing.
Bunny was one of the main excuses I had for keeping away from Max. Catching her kissing Damien gave me a get-out-of-jail-free card.
And, fuck me, I was going to use it.
Max
Fucking Venom.
I should have torn his fucking face off.
The second I saw him trying to touch Cat, I fucking snapped. Now they’d stuck me in this shitty room to have a ‘time-out’ like I was a fucking toddler having a tantrum rather than someone protecting her from that creep.
Like she ever needed protecting.
Who the fuck did he think he was to touch her like that? She was mine. Her skin was mine; her scent was mine, even her fucking breath was mine. Venom was lucky his manager Inari was there to split up the fight because I’d have smashed his face until my fist hit the ground.
Tearing off my jacket, I stormed into the ensuite. I had to get his blood off me, eradicate every trace of him from my skin.
My hands were still shaking, the dull thud of pain buzzing underneath the sheer fucking rage that fired me up. I splashed my face with water, satisfied with the harsh sting. My knuckles were shredded, but I wanted them to bruise. It was worth it to feel his nose break on the second punch. It would take him weeks to heal. His face would still be fucked up when we opened at Wembley.
I didn’t hear what he said, but he looked at her like she was a fucking object — a bloody showpiece for him to maul. That, and Luc’s arm around her, pulling her closer, giving Cat one of his slick smiles, even though she hadn’t noticed him looking at her. The two of them used to wind me up in the past, flirting with each other and laughing and giggling together, but that was when I knew she loved me and only me, and there wasn’t any question about it. It was before all this Dom bullshit started driving me crazy. Add Luc and Venom to the mix, and it cranked my crazy up to psycho.
Blood gone, sink clean, I started pacing the bedroom like a caged tiger ready for a fight. I’d stayed in so many of these white-wall, beige-carpet hotel rooms, just staring at the crappy paintings and hoping the night would end. They thought a large room was enough for us, but there was fuck all in here. A king-size bed, a dresser, and a TV on the wall. That was it. They’d thrown in a minibar for good measure, but I could have been in any city in the world, and it would still be the same. Storm Records always toed the line. Nothing too expensive but decent enough so we wouldn’t complain.
I needed a release. I had to hit something or fuck something or do some kind of damage just to get rid of this energy. Was this what Cat felt like every time she stared me down? It was fucking toxic.
Someone rapped on the door, and I swore into the empty room. Why couldn’t they leave me the fuck alone? I wasn’t in the mood for another lecture or Carl coming to tear me a new one, or Steve wanting to talk about my ‘feelings’ before telling me to dump Cat. It was fucking bullshit.
I ignored the knocking until they began pounding on the door like a fucking battering ram, and I had no choice but to answer. Fuckers.
I dragged myself over to it and jacked it an inch, just enough to shout through, “Fuck off. I’m not in the mood,” before closing it.
Or tried to. As soon as I pushed the door to close it, it burst open, slamming against me and knocking me back on my arse. I fell to the floor with an angry thud and was instantly fuming.
“What the actual fuck do you think you’re —”
All words died as the sheer presence of Catherine Fischer swallowed me whole. My fucking death and salvation. The last and only person I wanted to see.
She was glaring down at me like I was a piece of shit she’d just trodden on. Stepping through the door, she kicked it closed behind her without a glance. The lock clicked in place instantly, and she strode forward to stand in front of me.
Fucking hell, she was sexy whatever she did. A white jumpsuit, a blood-red leather belt and red heels, fat rubies dripping from her ears, and a red bra hinting through the slit in her suit, calling to me. I didn’t have time to take a proper look at her in the flashing lights of the club, but she had to know how gorgeous she looked. She was a fucking demon, a temptress, and she would be my doom.
I loved how dramatic it sounded, but I swear to God, the woman was going to drag me to hell. She already had. I was pretending to everyone else I was fine, even though my current plan to get her to love me again was to lock her away so she’d see no one else but me.
She looked furious. It was stunning, especially when she pressed one of those scorching stilettos into my breastbone, pushing down hard and making me wheeze as air fled from my lungs.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Her voice dripped with contempt, and I instantly fell under her spell.
