Laced Steel - M.J. Fields Page 0,8

And even though I think it’s lame as hell, I like them and do not like these assholes.

“She just used a fifty dollar SAT word?” Miles asks, quirking an eyebrow at Harrison.

“Get her the hell out of here,” Tobias sneers through his teeth.

“I’ll pay for the place to be cleaned,” Abhi says.

“You’re damn right you will.” Tobias steps toward him.

I step between them. “Wait a minute now. It’s my mess, and it’s just water, not piss, for God’s sake.”

“Truth,” Brisa whispers, and I look at her.

“Nope, no way. Fuck them.” I throw my thumb over my shoulder. “This is wrong, and we all know it.”

I not only turn around and glare at Tobias fucking Easton, I step to him and poke him in the chest. He growls, but I don’t give a damn. “Pfft, you don’t scare me one bit. My Grandmother is more intimidating than you. Now get me some damn towels, and then we’ll be out of your way.”

His Persian blue eyes are now wild and, for some reason, it just riles me up more.

I hear Brisa behind me, now sounding a bit panicked. “She’s drunk. She hardly ever drinks, and—”

A loud clapping distracts me, and I look to where the sound is coming from.

Harrison Reeves is smirking, slowly clapping. “Bravo.”

“Reeves,” Tobias sneers.

“She’s a little actress, Easton. It’s in my blood to applaud when I see a worthy performance.”

“This isn’t a performance, Reeves,” I snap.

“Oh, Miss Steel, you’re remind me of a little chihuahua with a pit bull attitude—feisty. I really like feisty.”

“Thanks,” I huff. “Now, how about you get me some damn towels and let us be on our merry way?”

I hear the door shut and look around. They left us here … with them.

“Truth,” Brisa whispers as she steps to my side.

“Easton, get the girl some towels”—Harrison smiles menacingly then looks away from me—“before she pisses herself or starts crying.”

“As if,” I huff.

I hear a door slam and have to stop myself from jumping.

Harrison looks back at me, smiling a little playfully now. A little too playfully.

“What is your aversion to being nice?”

He leans in, and I stay standing tall. Well, as tall as I can. Then he whispers, “You weren’t on the guest list. And neither was your cousin. Easton doesn’t appreciate rule breakers. Me, on the other hand, find it fascinating.”

“My bad, we didn’t RSVP. We weren’t even going to come. It was a last-minute decision. It’s not Baker or Abhi’s fault.”

“I’m very glad you”—he pauses—“came.”

Tobias walks past me and hands Harrison the towels. “Get them the fuck out of my house.” Then he turns and walks back the way he came from, and a door slams loudly. Again, I almost jump.

I take a towel and hand it to Brisa, not because I expect her to help, but because I’m not letting her be more than two feet away from me.

Once far enough away from them, I hear them begin chatting amongst themselves.

I smile at her reassuringly. “We’re fine.”

“I’m sorry. I should have been more badass. God, I suck.”

“No, you don’t,” I assure her.

“You were so freaking bada—”

“Not really. I didn’t want them to get in trouble thinking we’d made new friends, and then they bailed on us, and then that deplorable ass Tobias … well, he pissed me off.”

“In their defense, Alexa turned green, and I’m pretty sure she was about to throw up. They had to get her out of here.”

“Fine. Forgiven.”

We make quick work of wiping off the mirror and the countertop.

“Do we need window cleaner?”

“Fuck that,” I snip as I get down on my hands and knees and begin wiping up the floor.

“You missed a spot,” comes from behind me.

“We aren’t done, Reeves,” I say flippantly.

“Streaks on the glass are gonna piss him off,” Miles taunts.

I shrug. “Seems he’s pissed off most of the time anyway, so it won’t matter much.”

When I hear them chuckling, I look back. Miles and Kai are scowling, and Harrison’s eyes are smiling, but he’s not.

“I’d offer to help, but my staff isn’t here,” he says.

Arrogant asshole.

“Great, then piss off.”

“But this view …” He glances down at my ass.

I turn away and swipe the floor one more time. “It’s an ass. What are you? Twelve?”

“It’s a spectacular ass.”

I glare back at him.

He places his hand on his chest and mock gasps. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t think it would offend someone who’s clearly worked so hard to condition her body. You’re strong. It shows on stage and while you’re”—he pauses and smirks—“on your knees.”

“Ball busting

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