Page 104

“Now you want to boss me around?”
“You’re hungry, right?”
“That’s not the point.”
He fills his fork. “That’s exactly the point. You’re hungry, so you should eat.”
“You’re an asshole.”
Smirking, he takes a bite, eyes darkening as he watches me. Mace is really starting to piss me off, and the anger burning in my chest scares me a little bit. I wait for a response, but he simply swallows, lifts an eyebrow, and points at my plate.
“Eat.”
I grab my fork, stab it into my pasta, and shove a forkful into my mouth. Fuck. Me. Chef might be a bit of a hard-ass, but the woman knows how to cook. This might be the best Bolognese I’ve ever tasted. Rich. Creamy. Savory with touches of sweetness.
“Good girl.”
Scowling, I flip him off. My hunger overrides my desire to fight with him, and I focus my energy on the food. The breadsticks are literally perfection; garlic dust coats my fingers and complements the main dish in the best way. I should apologize for snapping at Chef.
Mace finishes eating before I do, and he drinks his wine, watching me with an annoying tilt to his lips. He’s an idiotif he thinks I’m done being mad. I take my final bite and lean back in my chair, drumming my fingers on the arm.
His eyes move to my tapping fingers. “More to say?”
Now that I’ve eaten, the anger isn’t so intense, but it simmers beneath the surface, poised and read to boil over. “For someone so smart, you’re clueless when it comes to women.”
“Is that so?”
I nod, grabbing my glass of wine. “You fuck me at Rose’s house. Have me warm your cock. Finger me in your office. Then barely speak to me for a week. You’re not even texting me anymore.”
“So, you did miss me,” he teases.
Oh my god. This asshole. “This isn’t a joke, Mace.” Taking a big drink, I stand, set the glass down and throw my napkin across the table. It unceremoniously flutters before dropping in front of his plate.” You don’t get to use me as you please. I’m not a fucking toy.”
As soon as the words are out, I realize what’s been bothering me the most. Mace’s praise and touch made me feel good. I liked it. He promised to keep me company. He worshiped my body like no one ever has, but it was so easy for him to simply stop. I don’t like that I missed it or that he’s not taking this seriously. It makes me feel stupid. Like all those assholes in the comments of that NYC Socialite article were right.
Mace stares at the napkin. “Who said you were a toy?”
“Like you even care,” I growl, whirling around and heading out of the dining room.
“Cassia, come here.” His deep tone strokes down my spine, coaxing.
“No.”
“Cassia—”
“Don’t fucking tell me what to do,” I call over my shoulder.
“See what happens if you leave,” he warns, voice deep and rumbling.
Scoffing, I shake my head and take the first step out of the room. “Oh no, what are you going to do? You think being alone bothers me?” I pause and glare at him. “I’ve been alone for most of my adult life.”
He stands.
My pulse jumps. “Don’t even think about it.”
Those dimples deepen as he steps toward me. “Why? Isn’t that what you want?”
Yes.