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No rocks.
“My mother was actually a wonderful woman,” he responded, turning around to face me. “And this isn’t about control, it’s about respect. I’m a busy man. Why shouldn’t I know I’m coming home to a clean house, dinner cooked, and a pussy to fuck raw at the end of the day?”
My body tingled with anger. “And that’s what your mom was? A maid, a cook, and a piece of ass?”
Isiah’s eyes flashed, and I knew I’d hit a sore point. He walked toward me, swirling his drink in his glass.
How much fucking alcohol did this guy consume?
Constantly needing to have a drink in his hand.
Maybe it was a nervous thing.Did men like Isiah get nervous?
Or maybe it was just so he felt fucking fancy as he sold women off like he was an auctioneer at the county fair.
“My mother respected my father,” Isiah affirmed through tight lips as he came forward.
“No, your mother was a weak-ass bitch,” I countered.
The glass half full of whiskey went flying across the room, smashing against a large, expensive looking painting. Everything came crashing to the ground. My heart started to race, but I didn’t let it faze me. I was going to have to deal with a little pain if I was going to get out of this one. Which meant making this man angry as hell.
“I hit that weak point? You still think your mom was this amazing woman when she was just too weak to stand up for herself. She wasn’t an amazing woman. Keep telling yourself that if you want to sleep at night, but just know that the reality is she was a slave. She was someone’s bitch.”
He walked toward me, and my mouth kept running even when I saw him pull back his fist.
“She was your asshole father’s little bitch, and the only reason shelooked afteryou, was because if she didn’t, he would beat her into next we—”
His fist hit me in the side of the face, throwing me off the fancy sofa and onto the wooden floors again. My ear was ringing. I couldn’t hear anything or get my bearings, and it instantly felt like my cheek was two times the size it should have been.
Hands grabbed my arms, lifting me back on the sofa.
I shook my head, trying to get the ringing out. Attempting to open my eyes through the pain, the room was blurry and rolling.
I grabbed the side of the sofa to help keep me steady while Isiah pulled over a glass top coffee table and sat on the edge of it. His eyes were dark like his pupils were fully dilated.
Was he on some kind of drugs?
Or did he just get off on causing others pain?
I always thought men like Isiah were too proud to sink to the level of the people who they sold shit to. They always needed to feel like they were better than other people. But this guy was fucking crazy. He was either on something heavy, or he had some serious mental issues with the way he viewed women.
The club cherished their women, even the club girls were always treated with respect and were never forced to do anything they didn’t feel comfortable with.
They had a choice.
The women he brought here didn’t have a choice.
They were broken down, day by day, beating by beating, until they had no will left.
“You’re worthless, you know,” he murmured, studying me as I tried to gather my wits. “Just like your mother. Stupid. With these big fucking dreams. Maybe I should turn down the buyer and just give you to my men like I did with her. Then you two will have something to bond over.”
“I hope you rot in hell,” I growled, my skin prickling at his words, reminding me of what he put her through, and how he was responsible for the woman she’d become. How he took away her beauty and her soul.
I wouldn’t let him do that to me.
Or any other fucking man.
I had one who loved me, who wanted me to succeed, who would always stand behind me and support me no matter what. Ham would never break me down. Never treat me like a piece of ass who wasn’t worthy.
