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She knew the club helped Pete buy the bar, she had no idea that they had paid for the whole thing.
Fuck. If it wasn’t for Trip coming back to Manning Grove and opening those wounds, no one would’ve known. If it wasn’t for him, she wouldn’t be in this situation right now, losing the one thing she had left.
The only thing she had left.
Without the bar she had absolutely nothing.
No home. No job. No future.
She dropped her head and tried to breathe. Tried to still her spinning thoughts.
This was all his fault for coming back.
This was all Trip’s fault for digging up the past.
Her father never told her.
No one ever told her.
Christ, the rug was just pulled out from beneath her again. Her future unsure, questionable.
She couldn’t start over again. She couldn’t.
She would be forced to give him half the bar. Forced to deal with him on a regular basis.
She tried to swallow the sob that rushed up from her chest. She couldn’t contain her sign of weakness, so she turned it into a scream instead as she slammed both hands into his chest. “Bastard!”
He grunted at the force of her hit but didn’t move back. Instead, he pinned her tighter against the counter.
“You fucking bastard! You knew this all along, didn’t you?”
“No—”
“You knew this and were playing me!”
“No, Stella—”
“You did. This was just a game to you. A power play.”
“No, just wanted—”
“You wanted,” she hissed. “You. Fuck Stella, right?”
“Stella.”
“You know what I want?” Before he could answer, she slammed him in the chest again with both palms, causing another loud grunt. “I want you out of my fucking bar. I want you out of my life.” She was now screaming in his face.
She couldn’t stop. She couldn’t. Her fear, her rage, her frustration was bubbling up and over. Leaking. Escaping. Like the steam from a pressure cooker. She couldn’t contain it because if she did, she’d explode.
Her heart was beating so hard, so fast, she swore she was going to have a heart attack.
A heart that had been irrevocably broken, then withered and died.
“Not leavin’ the bar.”
She couldn’t take any more loss because she had nothing left to lose.
Nothing.
Trip just claimed the last thing she was clinging to.
“Then I will. I’ll get my shit and get out. You can have it.” But you can’t have me.
“Stella...”
“Get out of my way.” As she went to slam him again, to break free from him, from the chains he was trying to bind her in, he grabbed her wrists in a grip so tight she winced.
He got up into her face and growled, “Learned the hard way twenty fuckin’ years ago not to put my hands on a female, but you’re fuckin’ pushin’ my patience, woman.”
“Good. Because I have zero fucks left to give. I’m fresh out.”
“You better dig deep and find some, woman, because I need you to run this fuckin’ bar and help me make it a success. The club needs the money and so do you.”
“Once again, Trip... You need. My life does not revolve around your needs.”
“No, it revolves around yours. And you’re too fuckin’ stubborn to see it.”
“Let me go so I can go pack up my shit.”
“You’re not goin’ anywhere.”
She knew one way to get him to free her. And he was too close to knee him in the nuts.
She relaxed every muscle in her body, raised her face to his, and whispered her challenge. “Who’s going to stop me? You?”
Anger quickly disappeared from his eyes and heat took its place. His look was wary but interested. And she immediately felt his body change. One particular part was starting to press hard against her belly.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “Me.”
She ran her tongue over her bottom lip then tucked that lip between her teeth. His eyes followed every one of those movements.
Typical fucking male. Dangle a bit of sex in front of him and he was putty in her hands. Thinking with his dick and not his brain.
“You can let me go and the bar could be all yours and the club’s.”
“Don’t wanna let you go, Stella. Want you to stay.”
She wanted to demand why. She would hand the bar over to him free and clear. “You don’t need me.”
“The fuck I don’t.”
His words were soft but sharply edged at the same time. She ignored some of the implications behind them.
He would never own her. She was not property. She wouldn’t be used or passed around.
She had grown up watching women be forced to do things they didn’t want to do.
She would never be that woman.
Never.
Chapter Six
He wasn’t sure what Stella was trying to pull. One minute she was hard and resistant, the next soft and compliant.
Sort of.
He wasn’t falling for that bullshit.
He hadn’t wanted to use the agreement against her, but she’d forced his hand. He would’ve preferred she’d let him help her by her own choice.
