Arianne scowled at Janice and replied tartly, “Well, I must go for the two of you to get on with each other, right? I know you’re itching to see me leave anyway, so get out of my face before that itch in your coochie runs out of steam.”
Janice turned blistering red in rage. “You and your b*tch mouth—!”
Arianne was at zero patience with her, so she shoved Janice aside. The latter’s tray tilted, and the boiling tea she was holding poured out and scalded the back of Arianne’s hand.
The woman winced. “You tw—!”
Janice’s relish of that snap vengeance was practically shining out of her eyes. “Hell no, you’re the one who pushed me, b*tch! You can’t pin this on me for what you did to yourself, can you? Ugh, thanks to you, I’ll have to remake that tea for Mr. Tremont again, but I guess this is what you want, right? You want me to take good care of Mr. Tremont—it’s what you explicitly said, anyway—so chill and go home. I’ll definitely take good care of him in more ways than you could ever!” she declared coquettishly before spinning on her stilettos with a victor’s flourish and sashaying away.
Arianne was beyond confident that Janice scalded her hand on purpose.
However, the more important question was this: would Mark really sleep with Janice tonight?
She felt a sharp stab in her chest and raised her hand to it, but still, she gritted her teeth and left. If Mark saw no problem doing that, then what could Arianne say? Besides, she knew Jackson would stop him with all his might if Mark ended up wanting to go through with that plan.
If Jackson did not stop him when he should, Arianne might have to reassess these men entirely.
When Janice returned to the room with a newly-brewed glass of tea, she asked in phony concern, “Oh, so Mrs. Tremont did leave after all?”
Mark snapped with a bellow, “Don’t bring up that woman’s name!”
He had not at all expected Arianne to put her words to action and leave him alone. She did not care if he was coming home or not tonight. She did not even care with whom he was going to spend the night.
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