Free Gold Shimmer by P. T. Michelle

smirk tugs at my lips. Scarlett must have an amazing body underneath that costume to draw Bash out of the shadows.
    When the cab drives away, Bash stares after it for a couple of seconds, then claps me on the shoulder. “Let’s head inside. I need to check on Mina now that she’s decided to join the party.”
    “You going to tell me about that?” I ask, nodding after the car’s taillights.
    “ That’s none of your damn business,” he says, walking away.
    His curt tone makes me laugh as I follow him inside.
    Apparently, Celeste’s quick departure has drawn a crowd. The group of gawkers move away from the glass on either side of the door as Bash and I walk in. The sight of them ogling ticks me off. Scowling, I bark out, “Nothing to see here. Get back to the party.”
    Bash slides me a sideways look as we pass through the crowd and move further into the main room. “Settle down, Cald.”
    I start to say something about despising gossipmongers when a blond guy dressed as a gladiator steps into my path. “I’ve never seen Celeste so out-of-it before. What’d you do to her?”
    A couple inches shorter than my six-two height, the guy might be a year or so younger than me, but his accusation raises my protective instincts. I clench my fists by my side and vaguely hear Bash tell me to walk away. “Celeste is fine and none of your concern,” I manage to say in an even tone.
    The gladiator puffs his muscular chest up like a peacock, his gaze slitting. “You don’t recognize me without my helmet, do you?”
    Helmet? What the hell is he rambling about? Wait…football? “Are you talking about high school?” I’ve killed men with no names, but whose faces will remain etched in my mind until I take my last breath. I’ve been attacked by men wielding knives, bullets, and explosives. I’ve seen best friends go through PTSD, lose their limbs, their lives, and plenty of other dark shit I’d prefer to forget. For a split-second, I just stare incredulously at this jackass, who lives in his safe, elitist bubble. Shaking my head, I move to walk around him.
    He sidesteps back into my path and folds his arms. “That’s right,” he says, tilting his chin at an arrogant angle. “Even as a sophomore I kicked your team’s ass. Celeste is mine. Stay away from her.”
    “Calder—”
    Just as Bash starts to put a staying hand on my shoulder, my fist connects with the fucker’s smug face as I grit out, “Celeste knows who’s worth spending her time with.”
    The guy hits the floor hard, skidding across the wood. Everyone backs away and stops talking to watch as the idiot jumps to his feet. Swiping blood from his upper lip, he shouts, “Do you know who the hell I am ?”
    “Do you think I give two fucks ?” Hearing him talk about Celeste like she’s his makes my blood boil. I want to smear this guy’s face into the ground. I take an aggressive step toward him, but Bash grabs my arm.
    “Not here, Cald. He’s not worth it.”
    Chest heaving, fists clenched, the guy seethes. “I’m Jake Hemming. My father is a senior partner at Hemming, Gersh, and Platt.”
    “And I’m Calder fucking Blake. Might want to write that down so you don’t forget it when you go whining to your lawyer daddy.”
    Jake’s face flushes even as his hazel gaze turns cold. “We’ll ruin you.” Glancing around at those gawking, he gestures to me. “You all are witnesses. He attacked me.”
    My adrenaline vaults and as the beast inside me roars to be set free, the steel hold on my arm tightens. “I didn’t see anything,” Bash states calmly, then addresses the onlookers. “Did anyone see what happened?”
    One by one, they mumble in the negative, then turn back to their drinks and chatting with friends.
    “Are you serious?” Jake snaps, glancing around for support.
    Gavin approaches, his mouth pressed in a tight line. Eyeing Bash’s hand on my arm with a hard glare, he turns to Jake. “I think it’s time for you to leave.”
    Bash