"She could be Satan if we are talking about the d.a.m.ned." I held back a scoff as I went towards him to pick up his empty gla.s.s.

"A scotch," Anthony told me gruffly.

"Babe," someone called out as I started to move towards the door. I turned around, anyways, realizing that the indignant man was referring to me. "Come here." He gave him a huge grin that made me question his intentions.

"Yes, sir?" I asked sweetly.

"What's your name, sweet girl?" I kept my face straight, but I could feel the tension in the room rising. He leaned over the couch he was sitting in and grabbed my free hand. I had the most incredible need to smash a gla.s.s into his face as he smirked at me.

"I'm sorry, but I have rounds to make," I told him politely, doing nothing to free my hand. Maybe speaking politely would throw him off and make him let go of my hand. I didn't want to p.i.s.s off any of Anthony's a.s.sociates. Not when it was my responsibility as the hostess to take good care of them.

"She is not allowed to say her name," I heard Anthony growl.

"Anthony, you always keep the pretty ones to yourself. Let me have this one. You already have one h.e.l.lcat sucking your c.o.c.k every night." With that, he tugged on my limp hand, catching me off guard. I tripped over, the tray slipping from my fingers. I bent forward to catch it before it fell, but the tug turned into a furious pull. I fell backwards, landing on the arm of the sofa next to the man.