Fast & Wet (The Fast 2)

“I’ll be back,” I tell Dante. I don’t think he heard me though because he’s mumbling threats under his breath as Angelina rests her head on Cole’s chest on the dance floor.

I make hand signals to Cole that I’m going to the restroom. He sends me a sexy little wink.

After figuring out the logistics of how to pee in a ball gown, I make my way out of the restroom stall, heady with a delightful champagne buzz and eager to get back to the gorgeous man who is hellbent on wooing me.

As if Cole hasn’t owned every piece of me for a quarter of my life and needs to woo me.

Rinsing my hands off, I check the makeup job the Italian ladies did on me. It’s holding steady.

A stall door opens, and, of course, Nova emerges.

She looks like she just walked off a runway in Milan, her perfectly toned athletic legs jutting out from her silver gown and towering several inches above me in heels I’d break a leg in.

Nope, don’t think it. He loves you, not her.

“Well, if it isn’t Plain Jane,” she snickers in a Russian accent, sizing me up through the bathroo

m mirrors.

I wonder if she’s drunk or just a nasty bitch.

“Sorry, do I know you?” I play stupid, refuse to take the bait.

“Cole knows me very well,” she fluffs her fiery red hair.

“That’s nice, make sure to stop by and say hello,” I make my way to the door.

Screw you, fire-crotch.

“You think you can keep a man like Cole satisfied?” She escalates when she hasn’t gotten her way thus far.

“He seems plenty satisfied, but thank you for asking,” I snip back at her, then kick myself for stooping to her level.

“Please, look at you. Mousey little girl, how long do you think before he grows tired of you? Little brown house mouse,” she laughs.

Don’t do it, Emily. Walk Away.

Hell no.

“Guess he must like mice since he’s asked me to move in with him and marry him,” I shrug my shoulders and give her my most phony, smug simper.

Obviously, I lied, but Cole will never know, and my claws are out. He’s mine. He’s always been mine. Bitch can step off and go back to the frozen wasteland she came from before I shove her own tennis racket up her ass.

“What.” Her face becomes as red as her hair.

Oh, did I hit a nerve?

“Enjoy your evening, lovely dress,” I examine her up and down as if she’s wearing a paper bag. I have no idea what she’s wearing, and I can only hope whatever I’m wearing is even better. Hell if I know.

And then I put my shoulders back, beg my feet to play nicely with my heels, and sashay my mousey ass right out the door.

Strolling down the long hallway like I own the place, I have every plan to wrap my arms around Cole and ram my tongue down his throat every time that bitch looks our way.

“I need you, now,” A throaty growl whispers from behind me. Before I can turn, strong arms wrap around me and pull me into a tiny, empty coatroom.

“Oh my god, what are you doing,” I giggle as Cole attacks my neck and runs his hand up the open slit of my dress.

He tries to kick the door closed, but it’s a half-door, and only the bottom slams shut. He pushes me up against it and dives into my exposed cleavage.