Page 12 of Filthy Little Regrets (Princes of NYC #2)

seven

MACE

The circumstances with which Cassia became mine are anything but honorable, and yet, I don’t fucking care.

As soon as I found out she was the one who initiated that wire transfer, I knew what had to be done.

My father is demanding I find a wife or else.

Cassia needs someone to save her life or else.

Put the threats in the coconut and mix them all up.

I glance at her as my Range Rover idles at a stoplight.

She’s staring at the ring, moving her finger this way and that to see how the sun glimmers off the surface of the black diamond.

What do I have to do to get her to look at me like that?

I clench my jaw, reminding myself it’s not normal to be jealous of a fucking ring.

“Do you like it?”

“Just because it’s pretty doesn’t mean this is okay,” she says, refusing to look at me. “Nothing about this situation makes me happy, not even this gorgeous diamond.”

Out of all the rings in the store, the hundreds of thousands of dollars she could have spent, she picked that one.

It’s not typical, but neither is she. That’s what has always drawn me to her.

Even in high school, when the rest of the kids kissed my ass, Cassia wasn’t afraid to look me dead in the eye and tell me to go fuck myself.

I’ve been trying to figure out how to make her mine ever since.

She hates me now more than ever, and that complicates things, but I’m a patient man.

The light changes, and I reluctantly pull my gaze away, navigating through the city, out of the depths of downtown. Cassia doesn’t glance up until we’re rolling to a stop at the gate to the Astor compound.

She looks at me in question.

“I thought you might want to see your new home.”

“My new home?” She shakes her head hard. “No. I’m staying at my apartment.”

“You can keep your apartment, but you’re not staying there,” I say right as Tony steps out from the little nook in the brick fence surrounding the compound.

Cassia sucks in a breath when she sees his semi-automatic rifle. “Should I be worried?”

“About Tony? No. He’s paid to protect us. About living alone in the city after you take my name? Yes.”

She glares at me.

Ignoring it, I roll down my window and nod at the guard. “What’s up, Tony?”

“Who’s your friend?” Tony asks, his Bronx accent thick.

“Cassia, this is Tony, my least favorite security guard.”

Tony barks out a laugh. “Fuck you, Astor. I saved your ass more times than I can count, and this is how you treat me?”

I grin. “Say hello to Cassia.”

“Hello, Cassia.” Tony says her name like he’s at an AA meeting and greeting the next speaker introducing themselves.

“Uh, hi.” She waves at him, eyeing the gun like he might turn it on her. “You’re not here to shoot me, are you?”

“If he knows what’s good for him, he won’t hurt you,” I say, sliding Tony a pointed look. “She’s an Astor now.” Technically, not yet, but I’ll remedy that soon enough.

“Any friend of yours is a friend of mine.” Tony waggles his eyebrows suggestively at Cassia and winks.

Jealousy drives a spike into my chest. Violence rattles through me, and for the first time in our friendship, I consider kicking Tony’s ass. “Don’t make me get out of this car.” Though my voice is low, the message is clear. She’s mine.

“All right, all right, Wolf, simmer down.” Tony glances toward the house.

There’s that nickname again, only when Tony says it, it’s with respect. “See you later, Tony. Don’t get into too much trouble.”

“Never,” Tony says with a small grin that all but guarantees he’s going to find it. He presses the button attached to his suit, and the iron gate parts, splitting the iron A in half as it opens.

“Jesus Christ,” Cassia murmurs as soon as I pull through the gate.

I look at her, but she’s gazing at the extensive property. It’s surrounded by a massive brick fence with pointed iron stakes poking out of the top.

“The Astor compound has been passed down for generations,” I explain, taking a right and heading toward one of the smaller mansions. “Rumor has it, Great Great Grandpa Astor bought it to show up the Farinas in the late eighteen hundreds and almost bankrupted the family. ”

“Apparently you all survived,” she murmurs as I park to the right of a two-tier driveway fountain. “Is this your house?” Her eyes widen as she leans forward to stare out the windshield.

A smaller version of the main house, my home has the same Georgian-inspired architecture. Gray brick turrets, large windows, two chimneys. The landscaping is pristine. Vibrant green grass. Planters filled with a wild array of summer flowers.

“What do you think?”

She glances at me. “What do I think about the mansion ?” she asks with an incredulous laugh, then clears her throat. “I mean, it’s fine, I guess.”

Smirking to myself, I turn the car off and get out, nodding at the guard who walks around the side of the mansion.

Cassia gives him a suspicious once-over.

To her, I guess it wouldn’t make sense why the guards are necessary, but after someone tried to kill my father a few years ago, he insisted we hire our own security detail.

Too bad the guy wasn’t successful. Life would be a lot different if Darius Astor was dead. Cassia trails after me, eyes bulging as she takes it all in, the barest hint of wonder playing on her lips.

Good.

She can be pissed, but this is where she belongs.

I open the door and gesture her inside. “Welcome to your new home.”