Bound Together (Torn and Bound Duet 2)

“Thank you,” she says. She takes one and then Brayden and I each take one.

I’ve had Cristal plenty because Mom is a fancy bitch like Mia’s. It’s okay. I prefer the cheap vodka that makes me puke and hate my soul when I’ve had too much. I’m not a fancy guy.

Brayden sets his down on a table as we pass.

He sure as fuck isn’t a fancy guy either.

I pull out my phone, texting Drew.

Me: Cristal. Y or N.

Drew: Is this a trick question?

Me: Are you a fancy fucker, boyfriend?

Drew: My dick is fancy.

Me: Send me a pic.

He sends me the middle finger emoji instead.

Me: SOS.

Drew: Really need a savior?

Imagining Drew blazing in here all hot as fuck in his sweatpants—since that’s all he was wearing when we left—makes my dick hard.

Me: I’ll keep you advised.

Drew: The answer to your question is no. I prefer beer.

Me: I love you.

It’s meant as a joke, but I suddenly don’t feel as though it’s a joke. For the past couple of weeks, we’ve all grown closer. I thought we’d split off maybe, but those big-ass hockey players join Mia in my bed every damn night. My bed is an oversized king, so we all fit, but I wouldn’t complain if we got a bigger one.

Drew: Love you too, Ash. Love all of you.

My heart squeezes in my chest. It feels right with the three of them. So right. At first, I was worried I would fuck things up with Mia, but I’ve never seen her so happy. She really rocked my world when she said how deprived of love she was growing up, and that she craves extra love because of it. It shaped the way I viewed this new group dynamic we have.

Mia deserves more.

We can all give it to her if we work together as a team.

She deserves it.

As much as I want to live in this happy as hell moment with them, I can’t help but have this niggling feeling of the other shoe waiting to drop. I don’t trust Travis with that video he has. And after Dad busting us, it’s especially worrying. Considering he hasn’t used it, he probably only intends to threaten me with it, but I still worry.

“Hello, darling,” a woman purrs. “Are you an actor or a model?”

I lift my gaze where I was staring at my phone and am confused to find my lovers are gone and I’m stuck with a botoxed woman who looks like she may have been on one of Mom’s soaps she used to watch when I was a kid.

“What?” I ask, scanning the room for my people.

“I’m Barbara Lyndell from A World Apart.” She preens. “And you are…”

“Ashton. Just Ashton. Have you seen a drop-dead gorgeous brunette in a pale blue dress walking with a sexy-ass dude in a suit who looks like he could bench her?”

“Claire’s daughter?” she asks, frowning, though her forehead doesn’t wrinkle at all—totally juiced up on the good stuff. “They’re probably over there.” She points a long red fingernail to a crowd of people laughing. “Are you friends with the girl?”

“She’s my girlfriend,” I state. “If you’ll excuse me…”

She bites her claws into my tuxedo jacket. “What a lucky girl. Claire wants her to go into the biz. It’s lovely she’s dating an actor now. Her mother will be pleased. Last I heard, little Mia was dating a poor college boy. Claire was devastated. Had to seek therapy and everything.”

I gape at this woman. “Are you tight with Claire?”

“Everyone in this biz is tight. Keep your enemies close, your enemies closer.”

“That’s not how the saying goes—”

“In Hollywood, we’re all enemies. We’re just really good at acting. Send Claire my love.”

I pull away from the dinosaur and stalk through the crowd, needing to be near my girl. These people are vultures. Sick assholes who get off on the perverseness of seeing others suffer.

My girl needs rescuing.

We’re getting the fuck out of here and soon.

I’ll text Drew after I find her and Bray and get him to grab an Uber to pick us up.

Pushing past someone I know I’ve seen in at least ten movies, I make my way into the inner circle of the crowd. A woman who looks like an older version of Mia smiles at her group of starving vultures just waiting for her to slip up so they can feast on her. They laugh because they’re good at acting as Dino-Barbara says. I hate them all.

Mia is stiff, clutching Brayden’s hand tight. I don’t know what’s being said, but I can tell Mia is the butt of the joke based on the veins popping in Brayden’s neck. The man beside Claire also resembles Mia, but he’s missing her fire and flare and strength. He’s a spineless pussy.

“Hey, baby,” I say, slinging my arm over Mia’s shoulders. “Your ass is looking fantastic in this dress. You ready to bail on this lame-ass old people show and get back to the hotel?” I nip at her neck, loving the breathy laugh that escapes her.