Page 13 of Filthy Little Regrets (Princes of NYC #2)

eight

CASSIA

Welcome to my new home? My eyes stray over the marble floors, the rich mahogany paneling covering the hallway, and decor that probably cost more than my entire life’s savings and then some. This place is not my home.

Irritation ripples through me, but Mace is either oblivious or chooses to ignore it as he takes me on a tour. A grand kitchen any chef would die for. A fancy dining room. A movie-theater-style living room. A library. Room after room.

This house mansion is fucking huge.

I don’t belong here.

A creeping sense of inadequacy prickles over my skin. I follow Mace down a longer hallway, trying to keep my insecurities in check. “Does it ever end?”

He smirks at me over his shoulder. “The indoor pool is the last stop on the first floor.” The walls give way to floor-to-ceiling windows that provide a perfect view of a semi-Olympic pool, with five lanes long enough to swim laps without getting dizzy .

The excitement suddenly buzzing in my chest feels wrong, but I can’t deny it’s a relief to have a pool close by. Swimming grounds me. Something tells me I might spend more time in the pool than out of it as I adjust to this...situation.

“I didn’t bring my swimsuit,” I say with a frown.

Mace leans against the wall, one hand stuck in his pocket. “Your things will be here later tonight.”

Irritation pulses, hot and dense, in my chest. Who does he think he is? “What the fuck, Mace?”

He lifts an eyebrow. “Would you rather buy new things?”

“No, but you can’t just decide to pack up my things without talking to me.” That’s not okay.

“I thought you’d appreciate having your clothes.”

Closing the distance between us, I glare up at him. “I’d appreciate at least the illusion of control, but you can’t even give me that.”

Silence descends between us. The muscles in his jaw ripple, and he takes a breath, his next words calm. “The bedrooms are on the second floor. Our room is to the left of the stairs.”

No. No fucking way. A fake marriage is one thing, but does he really expect me to play wife? “I’m not sharing a bed with you.”

The darkness in his gaze comes out to play. “Is that a fight you want to pick?”

I cross my arms. “It’s not happening.”

“You belong in my bed, Cassia.”

Batting my eyelashes, I step closer and lower my voice to little more than a breath. “Yeah?”

He bites his lip and nods.

“Well, in that case—” I slam my knee up between his legs, and he grunts, clutching his nuts, but much to my dismay, he stays standing. “Fuck you, Mace.” I expect anger, maybe to be pinned against the wall again, but all the bastard does is laugh.

“There’s my wife.”

Chest heavy, frustration explodes inside of me. “I’m not your fucking wife!”

“Yet,” he says, straightening despite the pain he has to be feeling. “That’ll change soon enough.”

Helplessness skitters over my skin. The doorbell rings, cutting through the space between us. My heartbeat quickens. “Who is that?” I demand. Vito coming to ensure that Mace marries me?

“Rose.”

My breath catches, and I tear off down the hallway, relief flooding through me. Maybe she can help me find a way out of this.

I’m aware of Mace following me to the door, but with aching balls, his pace is slower. The bell rings in rapid succession before I can reach the door, and Rose pounds on the thick wood.

“Maccon! Open this fucking door,” she snarls.

It’s nice to know I’m not alone in my anger. I wrench the front door open, and Rose’s gaze drinks me in, checking to make sure I’m okay. Seeing her is a punch to the gut. The only real family I have is here. She throws herself at me, hugging me tight, and the gape in my chest fills with warmth.

“I came as soon as I heard,” she says, pulling back and eyeing me. “Remy told me you asked for space yesterday, but he failed to mention you were getting married until I pried it out of him this morning.”

I shake my head. “I didn’t ask for space.”

Anger simmers in her eyes, and her attention jumps to Mace as he shuffles to a stop behind me. She releases me and storms to him.

Dare, who I didn’t realize was with her, watches with rapt attention as his wife walks straight to his best friend and slaps him.

The sound cracks through the air, and Mace’s head whips to the side.

My hand flies to my mouth. He shakes his head, jaw clenching as Rose rips him a new asshole.

Mace lifts his chin, meeting every vicious threat she launches head-on.

I glance at Dare.

“Cassia,” he says with a smirk. “Thanks for inviting us to the party.”

Of course he would consider the situation normal. After all, he forced Rose into marriage, too, but that was different. She tried to extort him into marriage first. Their situation was...complicated, to say the least.

“It feels more like a funeral,” I confess.

He studies me. “Are you okay?”

I tip my head in consideration. “Mentally or physically? You’ll have to be more specific.”

He rubs his jaw. “You have my number?”

Dare would do anything for Rose, and since I’m Rose’s best friend, it gives me his protection too.

As annoyed as I am, the last thing I want is to ask him to deal with Mace.

Not to mention, I can’t really picture Dare killing him, and even if he did, that still leaves me on the mafia’s radar, with its archaic patriarchal ways. Without a husband, I’m dispensable.

Sighing, I nod. “Yeah, I have it. ”

“Good.” He glances at Rose berating Mace. “Excuse me.” Like a moth drawn to a flame, Dare makes his way to Rose, wrapping his arms around her from behind and tugging her into his chest. “Rose,” he coaxes. “Maybe we can talk about this without assaulting Mace?”

Rose gives Dare a warning look. “He deserved it.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” I mumble to myself, snapping the front door closed.

Dare floats his hand up to her neck. “I know, baby. But look at the guy. He can’t even stand up straight.”

“That would be Cassia’s fault,” Mace says, pivoting and stiffly walking to the kitchen. “Who wants a drink?”

The inside perimeter of the library is lined with shelves full of books.

There’s way too much non-fiction for my liking, but unlike my future, that can be remedied.

Rose and I are tucked away on a plush leather couch, far away from whatever conversation the guys are having on the other side of the room. Mace clutches a bag of ice to his nuts.

Good. I hope they fall off.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Rose asks when I’m done telling her everything.

I sigh into my second glass of wine. “I’m managing.” Shrugging, I take a sip and set the glass on the side table. “I’m pissed at Ian, but mostly mad at myself because I knew better. I shouldn’t have helped him. He was so scared, though, you know?”

Ian hasn’t responded to my latest round of texts.

Rose nods. “You have a heart. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Look at where it’s gotten me,” I grumble, dropping my head onto the cushion behind me. “Cassia fucking Astor? What kind of last name is that, anyway?”

“It’s the worst,” Rose murmurs. “Maybe he’ll take your name instead.”

I roll my neck and let out a humorless laugh. “We both know that won’t happen.” Mace is an Astor. That name holds power.

She grimaces and sips at her wine. “So, the marriage?—”

“Don’t remind me.”

“Too late. It’s not the worst thing that could have happened, right?”

I blink. “Witnessing a murder, being threatened with death, and unceremoniously engaged to a guy I’m considering setting on fire isn’t the worst that could have happened?”

Rose wrinkles her nose. “Okay, well, when you put it like that, it sounds bad?—”

“Because it is,” I cut in. I appreciate her attempted pep talk, anyway.

“BUT,” she continues, “at least Mace is nice. He’s a good guy—well, forced marriage aside, he’s a good guy.”

I recall those shadowed secrets in his eyes no one else seems to notice. “I don’t know about that.”

“Okay. But what about hate sex? Weren’t you the one who told me that it was amazing? Now look at me!”

I do, taking in the genuine grin on her face. She fell in love hard, and so did Dare. They’re meant for one another. They started off as enemies, too, probably hated each other more than I hate Mace, but what are the chances of that type of relationship happening again? Slim to none.

Mace is from a different world.

I don’t know how to let people in.

The best I can hope for is avoiding a lifetime of fighting, and so far, the outlook isn’t promising. And if that’s not depressing, I’m not sure what is. Picking up my wine, I gulp the rest down and stand up, offering Rose my hand. “I need more wine for your pep talks to work.”

She slips her hand into mine. “I’m sorry I’m not good at this.”

“Well, what changed with you and Dare? Like, what made you stop hating him?”

“He helped me find myself. He reached through the haze that was surrounding me and dragged me into the light, kicking and screaming. He fought for me, even when I didn’t understand why.”

Ugh. It sounds so dementedly romantic. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

She gives me a devious grin. “The sex definitely helped.”

I roll my eyes. “Okay, ya floozy. Keep your vag in your pants.”

Laughing, she links her arm with mine and tells me all the latest dirty details of what Dare’s been doing to her. While we both might have been forced into marriage, one thing is certain—I won’t be fucking Mace.

By the time Rose leaves, we’re both sufficiently drunk, but I feel better after talking to her. She relates to what I’m going through, even if her advice sucks. God bless her for trying, though. She’s a good one.

“Do you have to go?”

“No,” she says at the same time Dare says, “Yes.”

She glares at him, but he only grins. “You’re drunk, baby. I’m taking you home and putting you to bed.”

Lust shimmers in her gaze. “You don’t have to threaten me,” she mutters to him, rolling her eyes and turning toward me.

“I love you, please don’t die,” she murmurs, tugging me into her arms. She’s stronger than she realizes, and I crash into her body.

She’s too tipsy to keep us both standing, but the guys are suddenly there, catching us.

Mace’s arms band around my waist, strong and firm. The air in my lungs grows heavy as his hard body presses into mine. I don’t have the energy to push him off of me.

“Aw, look, they love us.” Rose’s eyes are dreamy as Dare slots his palm around her neck. He gazes at her like she’s a star in the sky he’s been hunting for years. My chest twinges with envy.

Rose gasps and looks at me. “Oh my god! We can go on couples’ vacations together. Renew our vows together!”

I shake my head. “Count me out of the last one.”

Dare’s calculating gaze moves between me and Mace. “Call me if you need me.”

I don’t know who he directs that message to. Maybe both of us. Sweeping Rose into his arms bridal style, he carries my best friend away. They’re so in love. Envy lights up my insides.

“We’ll never be like that,” I whisper.

Mace’s palms splay across my stomach. “Do you want to be?”

Yes. No. I don’t know. I want to be loved, but I’m not going to share that with him. “Forget it.” I grip his forearms and pry them apart, turning around to scowl up at him. “Let’s get two things straight. I won’t fall for you.”

His eyebrows rise. “What’s the second?”

“What?”

“You had two things you wanted to get straight.”

Oh. Right. Fucking wine. “And the second”—I pause and glance around the kitchen—“I’m not cooking for you. ”

“I don’t need you to cook for me.”

“Oh, yeah?” We’ll see about that. I’m sure he expects me to be a good little housewife.

He lifts a shoulder. “I can cook, and I have a chef that comes by three times a week.”

I cross my arms. “Well, good, then. Don’t expect your laundry to be folded.”

“I have someone for that.”

“Then don’t expect me to get on my hands and knees and scrub the floor like Cinderella. I’m not a fucking maid.”

“I have someone for that.”

I growl. Now he’s trying to piss me off. “Well, then, I’m sure you have someone to suck your dick too!”

A dark glimmer of amusement washes over him. He takes a step toward me. My heart trips and I take a step back.

“Are you running?” He steps again.

“No,” I snap, moving away.

He tucks his bottom lip between his teeth and takes two quick steps. My heartbeat falters, and I gasp, stepping back, coming flush with the wall. Good job, Cassia, you let him corner you .

Mace presses both palms on either side of my head and gazes down at me. My pulse roars in my ears.

“Let’s get a few things straight,” he says, throwing my words back at me. “My wife doesn’t need to cook. My wife doesn’t need to clean. My wife doesn’t need to do my laundry.”

I glance away. “I’m not your wife.”

“Mmm, see, that’s where you’re wrong.” Mace cups my chin and draws my gaze back to meet his.

“You will be my wife, and the only person I want sucking my dick”—he brings his lips dangerously close to mine—“is you. The only woman I want on her hands and knees is you. The only pussy I want grinding over my face”—he brushes his mouth over mine—“is yours.”

Heat blooms across my cheeks and I pull away. “You’re filthy.”

He smooths his thumb over my bottom lip, and I nip at it, earning a hiss and flash of dark delight. “Mmm. Maybe, but one of these days, I’m going to have you spread across my bed and you’ll be begging to come.”

“Fuck you.”

“Soon.” He releases me and leaves the kitchen, and much to my dismay, leaves me in a dangerous place.

Alone with my thoughts.