Beg Me (Mess with Me 1)

She holds out her hand. “Ariana Silva. I guess I should have introduced myself when I texted you. But I’ve kind of had my hands full here.”

“Where is Mya? Is she okay?”

She points behind me and I turn to see Mya is dancing near the end of the bar. She’s still wearing the conservative blouse and skirt she wore to work today but she’s unbuttoned more than a few buttons on her blouse so an alarming amount of cleavage is on display. Her high heels lay abandoned on the floor a few feet away while two guys dance around her. One of them is practically dry humping her from behind.

My mouth falls open.

Ariana looks sheepish. “At least I got her off the bar. I didn’t realize how many drinks she’d had until she took her shoes off. Then those guys showed up. I mean I’m no cock-block but she didn’t even protest when I asked for her phone and then put her thumb on the scanner to unlock it. I don’t even think she was aware that I was doing it. She’s in no shape to go home with some random guy.”

“But you called me. Why?” Not that I’m complaining but from her roommate’s perspective, I’m just a random guy, too.

“You’re her fiancé, aren’t you?” Ariana winks.

“I guess that means she told you about Vegas.” I’m not sure I want to know what she told her friend about our trip. It also doesn’t seem like a good sign that instead of coming over Mya went out with her friend and got trashed.

“She told me but I also know that you two used to be friends. You can tell a lot about a man by how he responds when you need him. You’re a good guy, Triple H.”

Her cheeky response makes me smile. “You think so?”

Ariana sways slightly, confirming my suspicion that she’s not in much better shape than Mya. “You’re here, aren’t you? Mya needed you and you showed up. That’s all I need to know. And on that note, I’m going to take an Uber home. I’ll let you figure out how to get Mya out of here.”

I laugh at her bold personality. She’s not who I would have thought would be friends with Mya but I can see why they work together. Someone like Ariana is exactly what Mya needs in her life to help her have fun.

Something you won’t be helping her with anymore, clearly.

I ignore the bitter part of me that wishes things had turned out differently. But no matter what, Ariana is right. We were friends. Hell, we are friends even if Mya doesn’t want to be. I’ll always think of her as a friend.

Mya doesn’t even notice when I approach but the guys dancing with her do. I give them both my best menacing stare.

The one dancing in front of her leaves immediately and tries to get his friend to leave too but the other guy shakes his head.

“What’s your problem, man? Get your own girl.” His eyes are glassy and his cheeks start to go red.

The bartender walks our way, probably anticipating a fight.

“I am getting my girl. You’re dancing with her. That’s my fiancée you’re grinding on.”

Mya looks up at that. “Milo? What are you doing here?” All of a sudden it’s as if she notices the guy pushing up behind her. Her nose wrinkles and then she covers her cheeks with her hands. “Uh oh, I’m in trouble.”

The guy looks between us in alarm and then holds up his hands. “I didn’t know she had a husband!”

Mya giggles uncontrollably. “He’s not my husband. Nobody wants to be my husband.”

Oh boy. It’s definitely time to get her out of here.

“Time to go, beautiful.” I lean down and grab her shoes off the floor. “Where’s your stuff?”

Mya pouts when the guy who was dancing with her walks away. “I don’t even know his name. But he seemed like fun. William didn’t think I was fun. He said I was all about work. Work, work, work.”

I loop her arm around my neck. “Do you need to close your tab?”

She shakes her head. “No, I paid earlier. Those guys just kept buying me drinks.”

“Yeah, I bet they did,” I mutter under my breath. “Come on, beautiful. Time to go home.”

Now up until this point I was wondering why Ariana bothered to call me. From the text messages, I was expecting Mya to be three sheets to the

wind and singing show tunes at the top of her lungs but she’s been docile as a lamb so far. Getting her home should be a piece of cake.