Page 5 of Playboy’s Purgatory

Fear.

A certain kind of resolve she shouldn’t have at her age.

I don’t hear the hope anymore. I don’t hear the want for something to be different.

It breaks my heart.

Even worse, I have no idea how to answer her question. Because there’s no doubt in my mind that the only reason Playboy treats me the way he does is because of Lola.

My sister has broken Vanessa’s heart enough. This shouldn’t be just another time she’s involved in my daughter’s pain.

I nod, unable to lie to her, and murmur, “I’m pretty sure it is.”

Her heart breaks in real time. Again. Right in front of me. And there’s nothing I can do about it.

CHAPTER 1

LARA

Is it because of Lola?

Sometimes that simple question from Vanessa, colored with the vestiges of her innocence, still haunts me. It’s been months since the Monroe County Fair, but her question has remained. I thought I knew the answer back then, but it’s become even clearer since then.

I have no idea exactly what Lola has told Playboy, but I know she’s spread her lies and her venom. That much is clear. What I don’t understand is why he would believe her so readily.

Lola is manipulative, sure. But she’s not particularly good at hiding her ulterior motives. Not if you look closely.

The thought that Playboy simply doesn’t want to see the truth feels like a punch to the gut. It shouldn’t. I shouldn’t give a single flying fuck.

But I do.

My movements are automatic as I finish pulling the last tray of cookies out of the oven. I’ve made four different kinds. And a ton of them.

Not for Bunz Out.

For a party because I can’t go to a family style BBQ empty handed. It wouldn’t feel right.

“Why am I even going to this party?” I can’t help but ask myself the question out loud. As if it will help my comprehension of the situation.

It won’t.

Because the last place I should be going today, or any day really, is the Saint’s Outlaws Motorcycle Club clubhouse.

The last time I was there was a month after Ryker was shot protecting Ezra. I didn’t want to go then either, but I was guilt tripped into it. Anyway, was I really going to let one asshole stop me from celebrating my friend’s happiness and the health of her man?

I braved the clubhouse. It didn’t take long before I realized just how big of a mistake I made.

Playboy still found a way to cut me down. The entire time Lola was draped over him like an octopus. It was obvious to everyone in the room that she was staking her claim.

My stomach churns at the thought of them together. I hate it, even if I shouldn’t. It’s none of my business.

It’s not.

If only I could tell myself that enough times for it to really sink in and no longer matter.

I’ve tried to put on a brave face when it comes to the two of them, but they don’t make it easy on me. Playboy’s constant sneers and jabs at me along with Lola’s coy smiles and malicious glances have chipped away at me. I hate to admit it, but it’s true.

With Lola involved, there’s no doubt in my mind that he’s being used. Still, he’s allowing it and refuses to see what is right in front of him. That’s on him and, honestly, it isn’t my problem.