Page 43 of Sex, Lies, and Margarita Mixes

Roxy’s still silent. She’s standing now, too. Not behind me. Next to me, because that’s who we are now.

Partners in violence. I will protect what’s mine.

Holden chuckles. His eyes flick between us. He sneers, “Oh, you two are still a thing? Cute. I figured she’d get bored once the novelty of the tatted muscles wore off and the marriage would be annulled.”

Roxy tilts her head. Dangerously slow. “Is that jealousy in your tone, or are you just trying to have your jaw wired shut again?”

Bree gasps and Trent and Weston sit up straighter. They’re poised to intervene if they need to.

Miguel mutters, “Oh shit, Roxy is about to throw hands.”

Whitney ducks behind the couch still clutching her drink.

I just smile because Roxy’s earrings are already in my palm.

My baby is about to fuck this piece of shit up.

“How are you even here, Holden? Are you stalking me?” she asks.

Good question. How is he here?

Holden shrugs. “I know the owners. They mentioned they rented it to Chase West. The name caught my ear so, I thought I’d stop by and see if you were still hung up on me.”

Bruh, you heard the name of your ex’s husband, who is twice as big as you are, plus, madly in love with the woman you shit on, and you thought rolling in here uninvited was a good idea?

You are dumb as shit.

She blinks like she heard him wrong. Then, she laughs. Not sweet. Not flirty. Ferocious. “Hung up on you? Boy, I forgot your small dick and big ego even existed until just now—and I’m still not convinced you’re real.”

Boy… small dick… big ego…

Hell yes.

His face reddens but before he can respond, I step between them. Not to block. To finish it.

My voice drops. So does his confidence. “You had your shot. You wasted it. You don’t get to walk into her space and disrespect my wife and expect not to bleed for it.”

His eyes narrow. “Are you threatening me, macho man?”

I lean in and grin, slowly, as I crack my knuckles. “No, Holden. I’m promising.”

He stumbles back like the weight of it finally hits him and looks at Roxy. “You’re just going to let him talk to me like that? You know I can have him… and you, in a cell in an hour.”

Roxy laughs again, “Step over here and say that.” He blanches, “You want to roll the dice, Holden. You already know I fight dirty. I’ve already broken your jaw once… you want to eat all of your meals through a straw again? A cell would be worth that view. And Chase is a grown man, I don’t control him. He’s a person, not a possession.” Her tone is flat, sure, not scared in the slightest but he catches the implication of the last word.

He looks from her to me to the rest of the room… and notices Sasha is holding her phone up and it’s pointed right at him.

She says, “Yeah, you dumb fuck. Smile, you’re on camera. One touch and this gets posted to all of my socials… only about three-hundred-thousand people, give or take. Unless, of course, it goes viral.” She tsks. “What would that do for that brand of yours? Millionaire investor and general shmuck breaks in at ex’s getaway with her husband. Stalking and breaking and entering, plus harassment.” She hums. “I’m sure there are a few charges I’m forgetting.”

Security shows up just then. Miguel drunkenly waves from his position on the couch. “I called them.”

They escort Holden out, as he grumbles about “just wanting to talk” and “making them delete the footage.”

When the door closes, the entire room exhales.

I’m still burning. Still vibrating with the need to make sure she feels safe. Turning, I take her face in my hands. “Are you okay, baby?”

She nods, “I’m good. I was ready to throw a fucking chair at his head. Are you?”

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