Page 68 of Virtuous Lies

A single gunshot echoes through the club, and I force my face to remain unaffected. “Tell me where Vincent is,” I demand, ignoring the fact that I just witnessed something I'd very much like to remove from my memory bank.

“Bianca?”

I turn toward Trixie’s voice, her feet slowing as she moves into the room with uncertain steps.

I see red. Hate and anger and betrayal consume every inch of my body. She was supposed to be my friend. She was supposed to protect me the best she could.

She wasn’t supposed to try to fuck my husband.

“You fucking bitch,” I spit, and before I can even consider what I’m doing, I launch myself at her, pushing her to the ground.

“What?” she breathes, grunting in pain as her back hits the ground with a heavy thud.

“You fucking lying, whore bitch,” I scream, straddling her hips to pin her to the ground.

Every frustration I hold within me manifests itself in a need to harm this woman for her and Vincent’s disloyalty. I can’t punish him, but I can her. “You tried to fuck him.”

“I—”

“My brother isn’t enough for you?” I pull at her hair, making her yelp in pain. “You needed my husband too? What about my dad? Have you tried to fuck him too?” I grab her head, slamming it into the seedy carpet.

She chokes on her own spit, grabbing at my wrists. “I did it foryou.”

“For me?” I screech, slapping her face.

She’s stronger than I thought, arching her leg and flipping me onto my back in one easy movement.

I cough at the impact.

“I wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to hurt you.”

“Hurt me? Hurt me?” I scream, kicking my legs and wriggling in an attempt to free myself.

“Calm down,” she cries.

“In what world would fucking my husband help me?” I scratch her face. “You fucking slut. I could kill you.He’s mine. You don’t touch him. You don’t fucking touch him,” I shriek.

She slaps me, infuriating me further. Forearm to my neck, she pushes me down. “Bianca, I did—” She screams out in shock, flying backward by the bristling anger of my husband.

Vincent helps me up, and I yank my hand from his the moment I’m on my feet.

I charge at Trixie again, but Vincent steps into my path, and I fall into his chest with a grunt.

“Stop,” he growls, the sound bristling with an anger that clenches his teeth.

I wipe at my face, blood trickling from the corner of my lip from the force in which she slapped me.

Vincent watches me until he’s certain I’m not going to attack again.

My chest heaves as I glance around the room; Leo, Enzo, Andre, my father, and Trixie caught in the space of unease.

Turning to Trixie, Vincent points at the door. “You’re fired. Grab your shit and leave.”

“What?” Trixie breathes.

“You slapped my wife. You’re lucky I don’t shoot you right where you fucking stand,” he grits out, his threat one-hundred-percent real.

“Sheattackedme,” she balks.

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