Filthy Vows (Filthy Vows #1)(33)

“Uh-huh,” she said, not distracted from her assessment of me. “Well, you’re allowed to be grouchy for thirty more minutes. Then I expect this massage to melt all of that away. We’ve got Luke and Thomas booked, and the concierge told me they have magic fingers and fart out sex appeal.”

I watched as she stretched forward to touch her toes, which was probably the extent of the physical activity she had planned for the week. “Really? That’s what the concierge said?”

“In snooty old lady talk which, thanks to Regina, I’m fluent in.” The reference to her stepmother was made with a groan, as she struggled to reach her toes, then hefted upright. “I’m starting yoga,” she announced. “Tuesdays and Thursdays at ten, at that place that likes to microwave you while you downward dog. You in?”

“As tempting as that offer is, no.” I did my own mini stretch out of obligation, knotting my hands behind my back and attempting to expand the tight muscles in my chest. I glanced back at the balcony, where Easton had turned, his back now against the railing, attention still on Aaron.

We should head downstairs now, before I had to suffer through another awkward round of interactions. Easton had already asked me once if everything was okay. I couldn’t bear delivering another forced assurance, when all I really wanted was to get him back at our house and talk to him alone.

But when could I do that? Based on the tail end of our lunch conversation, Aaron was moving his personal items out tomorrow. We’d bumped up our flight plan to get him into Miami early enough to go home and pack. My helpful husband would be right there, running interference on Becca while shoveling Aaron’s stuff in garbage bags and cardboard boxes.

By the time Easton finally got home, he’d have Aaron in tow. They’d want to eat and watch baseball. I wouldn’t be able to—

“Hey.” Chelsea gently bumped me with her shoulder. “Are you coming? It’s time to head down to the spa.”

I grabbed my bag and turned away from the view. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

As terrifying as it was, I needed to have this conversation with Easton here in Vegas, so I could kill all of this now, before the three of us headed back to Florida as roommates.





I cornered my husband between an Aladdin slot machine and an anorexic millennial with blue hair and a nose ring. “We need to talk.” I claimed the machine next to him and stuck my room key in.

Easton glanced over, half-distracted by the still-spinning reels. “What’s wrong?”

The machine displayed my points total, then wished me good luck. “Face forward and act normally.”

“Did you win something? The Wheel of Fortune jackpot?” He crowded me, his voice rising, and I made a mental note that—if I ever did win—he had a horrible poker face.

“Chill out, we didn’t win anything. Where’s Aaron?” I fed a five-dollar bill into the machine and kept my face mild, in case he was lurking around the corner and watching us.

“Cleaning up at blackjack.” He jerked his head toward the table games and I abandoned my act at the news that we were alone.

“Good.” I pushed my left sleeve up over my elbow, then the right. “I need to tell you something but I don’t want you to freak out or get weird about it.”

He eyed me warily. “Okay.”

“Last night, when you and I were in the living room—” I paused. “Aaron…” I took a deep breath. “I think Aaron was on the balcony.”

The millennial groaned, yanked her card out of the machine and stood to leave. I took the excuse to look away from Easton.

“He told me.”

The three words brought me back. “Aaron told you?”

“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck and gave a wry smile. “I was actually struggling with how to tell you.” He chuckled. “So, look—problem solved.”

No, the problem wasn’t solved. Not at all. I moved closer to him and lowered my voice, conscious of the fact that we were in a very public place. “So he told you that he watched us? Watched you… gag and fuck me?”

“Well, I’m not sure that watched us was the word he used. But that he saw us, yeah.”

“And?” I watched his face for tells. His features were relaxed, his eyes amused, and I didn’t see any of the stress that was pinching my shoulder blades with an iron grip. Even the massage hadn’t helped, though the man had been given an extra ten bucks in his tip for trying really, really hard.

He shrugged. “And what?”

I blew out an irritated breath. “This is a big deal, Easton. He could have moved down the balcony and gone into your room, but he didn’t.” I could have pulled out the gag and told you, but I didn’t. I almost said it, almost put the spotlight on me just to knock that relaxed smirk off his face.

“You’re right.” His face sobered and he moved closer. “I’m sorry. He was drunk and the door to our bedroom was locked. But still, he could have banged on the window. I’ll have him apologize to you.”

“What? No. NO. Don’t have him do that.” I shook my head emphatically and added my hands into the mix, my alarm causing my voice to pitch at an unreasonably high level.

“Okay…” he said slowly. “I’m confused. What do you want me to do?”