His Terms

Anger filled Sorcha, and she curled her hands into fists by her sides. This woman insulted her, yet she knew nothing about her. “Kind of like you, right?” Sorcha lifted her eyebrow in return and smiled when Beatrice’s face went red.

“How dare you? Do you know who I am?”

“I don’t give a shit who you are. Clearly you don’t know who I am.” Sorcha took a step closer, and although she wanted to slap this bitch, she wasn’t going to. “Now back the fuck up, and when Rian gets ‘bored’ with me, he’s all yours.” Sorcha hated saying that, because her feelings for Rian had grown, and thinking about him with another woman, especially this Medusa type one, hurt. But she didn’t need this shit. She moved by Beatrice and left the bathroom. Halfway down the hallway she was yanked to a stop, spun around, and then Beatrice was in her face.

“I can tolerate Rian sowing his oats until he realizes that I am the woman for him. I’ve been watching him do it for years, waiting for my time when he’ll finally see me, and I’m not about to let some poor bitch that can’t even handle her bills, who is a secretary for Rian, get in the way of me being with him.”

Sorcha’s anger rose, and she tried to control herself, but she just couldn’t, not anymore. “Seems like you’re just like every other woman he’s fucked, and then tossed out.” She was so much better than this, better than arguing with this petty bitch, but there were some things that she just couldn’t control, and being insulted by this rich bitch was pushing it. “You’re nothing but a snob.” Sorcha gritted her teeth, but before she could say anything else, or walk away, which was the smart thing to do, Beatrice slapped her right across the face.

The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed off the walls and cathedral style ceilings, but it was the sudden deathly silence that filled and surrounded Sorcha. She cupped her cheek on instinct, felt her rage grow as the blood rushed to the point of abuse, and knew that if it came down to it she’d beat this bitch’s ass. Instead of taking the bait she turned and left.

“Sorcha,” Rian said in this concerned voice.

She walked by him and shook off his hold when he tried to stop her. “Please, Rian. I can’t stay here. I just need to be alone for a little bit, gather my thoughts.” She wasn’t trying to be a bitch to him, or push him away from how she felt. But everything Beatrice said struck her deep, and all she needed was a little alone time. Yes, she was running, but there was nothing wrong with that on occasion.

“Please, Sorcha baby,” he said in this pained voice, and she wanted to just run into his arms, but she refrained.

“I just need a minute, Rian. We’ll talk later.”

He clenched his jaw, but nodded. It looked like he wanted to argue, but he nodded. Surely he knew what it meant to need some time alone. She headed right out the front door and found the limo they had come in parked a ways down.

The driver stood beside it, and she walked toward him. He saw her approach and straightened, looked behind her probably for Rian, but she just climbed in the back seat without his help.

“Miss?” he said and leaned down to look in the open doorway.

She wanted to go home, to her home, but instead she looked at him and told him to take her to Rian’s place. He looked at her cheek, probably saw a handprint covering it, but she just turned her head away and told him without words to get the fuck moving and stop gawking.

God, she wanted Rian more than she had ever wanted another man. But if he cared for her as much as she thought he did, as much as she saw in his face as he looked at her, could she really live in this kind of lifestyle?

24

Rian wanted to go with her, to follow Sorcha out and talk to her. He had seen part of the altercation between Beatrice and Sorcha, but Beatrice was lucky Sorcha hadn’t kicked her ass, because his woman could have taken her easily.

He fumed that Beatrice had confronted her, and hit her, and he wasn’t going to stand by and let this slide.

Of course he had known Beatrice would be here, because her family ran in the same circles as he did. But to think she’d stoop this low, actually hit Sorcha because of her jealousy, pissed Rian off.

“Excuse me.” Rian excused himself from the stockbrokers he spoke to and made his way toward Beatrice, who was now speaking with another socialite. He stopped behind her, so angry he was squeezing the champagne glass so tightly he thought he might shatter it. The woman Beatrice was speaking with straightened and looked at him, clearly sensing his rage, and excused herself.