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Ignoring the little hellcat, Aiden went straight to Olivia. She stood about ten feet from the others, arms wrapped tightly around her stomach, shoulders hunched and head bent low. Her face was hidden behind the curtain of her wild, tousled hair; it was like she’d taken a stroll next to a fucking tornado.
“Liv?” he whispered, gently brushing her hair back and cupping her face with both his hands. She winced and tried to pull away, but he didn’t let her. “Let me look.”
She wouldn’t meet his eyes as he raised her head, staring off toward the walk-in freezer instead. There was a bright red mark across her left cheek where she’d obviously been slapped, and several nasty scratches running from her lower jaw down her neck.
“Christ,” he muttered, passing his gaze over the rest of her. There were more scratches on her arms and stomach, and the beginning of a hell of a bruise on her left thigh. One strap of her bra hung broken and dejected down her back.
The screaming stopped at long last, and Aiden glanced over. Rafe and Jonathan had finally managed to restrain Stacey. She was still breathing heavily, but no longer had that frantic look in her eyes.
Jonathan looked up, and as soon as their gazes met, Aiden said, “I want her fuckinggone.”
“Me?” Stacey shrieked, struggling against their grips again, trying to rip Rafe’s hands away. After only a few seconds, she went limp in their arms, settling on glaring at Olivia instead. “That stupid bitch attacked me! Kick her the fuck out!”
Aiden let out a harsh bark of laughter. “You can’t possibly think we’d believe you. Not when you’ve been harassing Olivia all week.”
“Harassing herall week?” That frantic look was starting to edge back into her eyes. “For fuck’s sake, I’ve barely even seen her! What lies has that cunt been telling you? She’s the one who—”
“Enough!” Jonathan shouted, and the full force of his Don’t-Fuck-With-Me Dom voice was enough to shut anyone up—even a fake sub like Stacey. The fight went out of her so completely that Jonathan let go, and Rafe loosened his arms. With a long-suffering sigh, Jonathan turned to Rafe. “What can you tell us?”
Rafe regarded Stacey with furious gray-green eyes. “By the time I got here, Stacey had Aiden’s girl pinned to the floor. She wasn’t even fighting back—only guarding her face with her arms while Stacey whaled on her.”
Aiden looked at Stacey with a mocking tilt to his brows. “So she attacked first, but then wouldn’t even fight back? That’s your story?”
“Look at my face!” Stacey screamed, turning her head so everyone had a good view of the shiner swelling her left eye. “She fucking punched me!
Aiden opened his mouth to once again demand Stacey be thrown out—within the hour, if possible. But before he could, a meek voice at his side whispered, “It’s true.”
His heart skipped a beat. He whipped around to face Olivia again, frowning deeply. “I beg your pardon?”
Tears were making slow, forlorn tracks down Olivia’s face. “I did punch her first.”
As Aiden stared down at his sweet little sub with his mouth hanging open, Stacey let out a loud, victorious laugh. “See? I fucking toldyou. I didn’t do shit.”
“Oh, you did fucking plenty.” There was more anger in Jonathan’s voice than Aiden had ever heard there before. “Aiden, you handle your sub and I’ll deal with mine. Let’s get to the bottom of this once and for all and then figure out what the fuck to do.”
“Get to the bottom ofwhat?” Stacey demanded, her voice rising a whole octave on the final word. “She just told you—she’sthe one who punchedme. Are you fucking stupid or—”
“I strongly suggest you don’t finish that sentence.” Jonathan’s voice was absolutely fucking deadly.
She didn’t finish it. But she did glare at Jonathan with hatred burning in her eyes. “I swear to fucking God, if you so much as touch me, I will sue you for every goddamn penny you have.”
The two stared at each other for several tense seconds, neither so much as twitching. Finally, Jonathan said, “Rafe, would you kindly escort Ms. Blackwood to her room so she can gather her things, and then show her to her car? She’s decided to end her stay early.”
Her mouth dropped open. “It’s—it’s fucking midnight.”
Jonathan hadI fail to see how that’s my problemwritten so plainly on his face, he might as well have come out and said it. “There’s a lovely inn only eight miles from here, in downtown Fairford. Would you like us to call and make you a reservation?”
“Fuck you,” Stacey spat. As soon as Rafe released her, she stomped from the room without a backward glance.
With a look of utter annoyance, Rafe followed in her wake, saying, “You owe me,” over his shoulder, to no one in particular.
Once their footsteps faded, the silence in the kitchen was absolutely deafening. Aiden stared at Jonathan, while Jonathan stared at the wall, obviously trying to calm himself down and get his thoughts in order. Olivia was still crying quietly at his side.
Christ, what a fucking disaster.
At last Jonathan looked Aiden in the eye and said, “You know the house rules.”
“Of course I know them,” he snapped. “I helped fucking write them.” It had actually been his idea to include a zero-tolerance policy for fighting between the guests. After this week, they’d have to add a zero-tolerance policy for bullying, too.
