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“Your boyfriend is what happened.”
I gasp. “No! Marius, youdidn’t.”
His answering smile tells me all I need to know. “Should have thought of that before riding his cock.”
With my free hand, I swat his. “That’s not okay! Rhys is my friend.” Too late, I think to turn back toward him and point out, “And Marius isnotmy boyfriend.”
We agreed to fake date to piss off my stalker, and to put me enough in the limelight to ensure I’m not an easy target—which still causes jolts of alarm every time I think about it. None of that included lying to our friends.
Both men snort. They don’t answer, but I get the feeling that they simply don’t consider my statement worthy of a response.
And I find I simply don’t have the energy to argue my case.
“Drinks?” Rhys offer, like he’s not sporting a fast-spreading shiner, courtesy of the other guy.
“Will it be poisoned?” I ask.
Rhys laughs, leading the way to the open-plan living space.
“Not my style. Besides, Marius and I are even now. Our little issue doesn’t need to go any further. Wouldn’t you agree?”
I detect a certain note to his words. Unless I’m mistaken, it’s a not-so-veiled threat.
Marius doesn’t reply, and the tension is so thick I clear my throat to cut the silence. “Even, why?”
I look between the two men. I’ve missedsomethingthere.
“He dated Violet,” Rhys replies, making his way behind the bar.
My jaw falls.
“Once. I took her on a dateonce. I didn’t even ask her—Riley arranged it,” Marius grunts.
Rhys pours three rums without checking with us. I shouldn’t, given that I’m already buzzed, but I take it. “When was that?”
“November.”
I frown. “Didn’t you guys get married in November?”
“Yep.”
These people are so weird.
“Wait a second, you had sex with me to get back to him, didn’t you?” I realize.
That explains so much.
Rhys sips his drink. “I fucked you because you needed a good fuck, and I’ve been curious about that gorgeous ass of yours since we met. But yeah, getting back at that dick didn’t hurt.”
I groan. These people are horrible—to each other, to themselves, to the rest of the world.
I can’t say I mind one way or another; I’m not wounded by the fact that he used me. How could I be, when I used him, too?
“So, you dated his fiancée,” I say, pointing at Marius. “And you fucked his…” I grimace. What am I exactly? “Whatever. How does punching each other come into play in this equation?”
Marius shrugged. “Felt good.”
“I rather liked kicking his ribs,” Rhys retorts.
