Ben grabs her by the upper arm. “I would like a word,” he sneers
She rips her arm from his grip. “Stop it,” she whispers angrily.
He pulls her away from the group over to near the back of the wall and they continue their heated conversation.
“Why is Ben being such a cock?” Carson asks.
I look at him deadpan. Now that’s the pot calling the kettle black. You are the biggest cock I have ever laid eyes on. Adrian seemingly reads my mind and snickers under his breath.
Bridget comes back to the group and kisses all of us on the cheek. “I’m leaving with Carson,” she announces and Abbie smiles broadly and winks at her.
My eyes flick to Ben who is openly furious and my eyes meet Joshua’s across the circle and he smirks into his drink. Ben deserved this but the loser in me feels sorry for him.
“What guard am I taking Ben?” Bridget asks sarcastically as she lifts her chin in defiance.
Ben’s furious eyes hold hers. “I will send Peter. I’m busy tonight.” His eyes flick to the girl with the dark hair across the pool.
Bridget narrows her eyes in anger and I can see the red fumes shooting from her ears. “Fine,” she snaps.
Bens smiles sarcastically. “More than fine—it will be great.”
Bridget huffs and grabs Carson’s hand to further infuriate Ben and he takes the bait as he openly clenches his fists beside his body.
Oh jeez, this is uncomfortable. We all stand still and hold our breath, unsure of what is going to happen as Bridget disappears through the crowd hand in hand with Carson. I can’t help but wonder what Ben would do if he didn’t work for Joshua and I’m thinking Carson might be out cold on the floor. Joshua hands Ben an
other drink and he gulps it down as they move away to talk.
Abbie smiles broadly. “Go Didge,” she whispers.
I shake my head. “She’s an idiot,” I reply.
“Nice girls come last, Natasha,” she snaps.
“Nice girls win in the end, Abbie, mark my words. You can’t have your cake and eat it too,” I murmur.
“That’s bullshit and you know it, Natasha Marx.”
Chapter 9
I wake feeling very second-hand. When we got back from the party this morning at 4 am Joshua had his wicked way with me and bent me over every hard surface in this bedroom and the bathroom. It seems alcohol gives him superhuman stamina… I’m bloody sore. No man can have sex for that long, surely. I rub my hand through my hair as I remember the activities and I shake my head and smile. God, he’s an animal.
He’s not here. I look around the room and by the position of the sun peeking through the blinds I know it’s late. I need to get up. I wish we lived alone so I could go searching naked for my man. I’m sick of being so damn respectable. I am missing our little apartment-love-bubble too, where nakedness was the norm and sex on the dining table was a prerequisite. I shower, dress, make the bed and go in search for him. As I am walking toward the kitchen I see Bridget sitting at the bench. She subtly shakes her head and widens her eyes as if warning me about something. I frown in question—am I interrupting a fight with Ben? And then I turn the corner and see it and stop dead in my tracks: Margaret is sitting at the bench and spins her chair around to see me. Her chin lifts defiantly and her cold eyes meet mine.
Oh crap, what the hell is she doing here? This is going to be bad. Really bad. I feel my stomach clench with nerves and I tentatively walk into the kitchen. Is it too late to run? Why didn’t bloody Bridget text and warn me?
“Good morning,” I say meekly.
“Good afternoon don’t you mean?” she replies coldly. My nervous eyes flick to Bridget who wisely is staring at her coffee in its cup. I’m pretty sure the coffee is not going anywhere, Bridget. I glance at the clock and it’s 11.30 am. Oh god, this is a disaster. Where’s Joshua?
I walk over to the coffee machine and slowly make myself a cup of coffee in silence. What should I do? I don’t want to talk to her alone before she talks to Joshua… or do I?
“So you are all living here?” Margaret asks Bridget.
“Um, yes,” Bridget replies.
Oh god, this looks bad. It must seem like all of my friends are here in LA freeloading off Joshua… well we all are sort of, but it is not by choice.
“Hmm, how nice,” she sneers.