Piss Off, This Is My Money

11

Jace glanced behind her. Minions everywhere. He looked back at Maya. Fuck her, thinking she could get away with what she did to him.

“I have something to tell you, Jace,” she said, smiling that same smile he’d believed for five months.

“I’ve got no fucking shit to listen to,” Jace snapped, striding off.

“Jace, I want to tell you why I did that!” she called after him. “I did it because I loved you! Isn’t love all that matters?”

Jace spun around, eyes wild. “What the fuck did you just say?”

“I love you, Jace!” she cried, voice shaking, the kind of voice she knew would always pierce him.

He strode toward her. She suddenly realized how insanely tall he was—seven-foot tower of chaos. Her five-seven frame looked like nothing next to him.

“You loved me?” His voice was raspy, a storm ready to explode. “And lied to me about being pregnant with my kid? That’s your definition of love?”

Pure fire burned in his eyes.

“I know, Jace. You’re the only one who will understand me. It’s…” she sighed, keeping up the act. “I’m your first love. I’m the only one who’s ever loved you. You’re… you’re just…” she let out a perfectly pretended frustrated sigh.

“But this is what love is all about, Jace. The fact that I made a mistake and…said I was pregnant shouldn’t mean anything. It’s your first—”

“Shut your mouth,” Jace whispered, eyes locking onto hers in a way that made her shiver. She’d never seen him this crazy, this unhinged. “Don’t ever appear in front of me again. You’re sick. Fucking sick.”

He spun to leave.

But her friends—bless their delusional hearts—one of them slapped him across the face.

“You dare not call her sick when you’re the sick one!” one spat.

“Idiot! Does she look like someone you can just talk nonsense to?” Another lunged, trying to punch him.

Jace dodged with effortless precision, eyes still burning.

“Apologize to her while we’re being nice,” another spat.

“And put your eyes down! Don’t you dare stare at us like that!”

They circled him, all hurling hate, spitting venom.

“Someone call my men if he’s not going to talk!” one screeched.

They had already started calling their bouncers—phones out, voices raised—like a pack of spoiled puppies summoning bigger, dumber puppies.

In seconds, the whole place flooded with men in black. The hallway turned into a mini warzone, and half the party drifted outside too, buzzing with excitement because apparently nothing beats a viral-worthy spectacle at 1 a.m.

And then—like the saint she was pretending to be—Maya stepped closer to Jace.

“You don’t have to apologize to me, Jace,” she said softly, like she wasn’t orchestrating a whole circus around him. “Just tell me you love me. I just need to be sure we’re still together. And I’ll let all this slide. And about your uncle… we can talk to him. I can help his company too. Since… you’re the CEO.”

Jace stared right into her face, and a dark, humorless laugh crawled out of him.

“Maya… was I a fucking game to you?”

“Game?” She blinked, offended like she wasn’t insane. “Is that what you think this is? Cool.” She nodded calmly. “But it’s a profitable game. I’m going to pay you. Shall we just continue?”

Jace looked at her like she’d grown three heads. Where the hell did the real Maya go? Had she hit her head on a chandelier? Or was she just born stupid?

None of it made sense. None. Of. It.

“Beat him up if he’s not going to talk!” one of Maya’s friends shouted, eager as hell.

The men in black began closing in.

And then—

Jace snapped his fingers.

Just like his “uncle” had warned him, the moment he did, the men assigned as his personal bodyguards stepped forward out of the shadows.

Black suits. Broad shoulders. Professional stillness.

Not childish bouncers.

Real soldiers.