AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Footsteps click along the tile floor behind me. A whiff of sandalwood invades my nostrils and again, my stomach clenches.
Tyson.
His fingertips wind around my left arm, squeezing so tight, I think he might brand my skin with his fingerprints. He gives my arm a good tug and I stumble, trying to resist falling into his grasp and failing.
“Don’t fuck with me, Skyla,” he murmurs, dragging his fingers through my hair. “And don’t ever make a fool out of me ever again or else you’ll pay the very steep price.” He fists my hair and tugs my head backward. “I won’t have my wife pine for another guy, especially a piece of shit like Zak Malikov.”
“You expect me to pine foryou?” Blood rushes between my ears. “Because there’s no way that’s happening.”
“I want to feel that sweet cunt wrapped tight around my cock.” He fingers the hem of my dress, his dark eyes hooded with lust. “I want you on your back in my bed.”
“Well, fuck you. I still have one night of freedom, and there’s no way I’m going anywhere near your bed.” I wince when he tugs the fabric, pulling me closer. To anyone looking from a distance, anyone who doesn’t know the truth, it probably looks like we’re in love.
But the reality is smoke and mirrors. A complete and utter sham. The biggest sacrifice of my entire life.
Because this man is hours away from becoming the bane of my existence. And there’s not a damn thing I can do to stop it.
“Enjoy your last night, Skyla. Tomorrow, your pussy will be mine. Your fucking life will be mine.” Tyson drags his fingers through the back of my hair to hold my head in place while his lips graze my ear. “Everything will be mine.”
Chapter4
Zak
Angry sounds of Rage Against the Machine blare from the Bose speakers in my Audi R8. I can drown out the words Skyla spat at me back at The Surf Club, but nothing can keep the images of her in that hot as fuck dress from plaguing my mind.
Tyson Van Dyne. What the hell is she doing with that asshat? How could she even think about marrying him?
Talk about a glaring and pathetic as hell example of a guy riding Daddy’s coattails. Fucker never had to work a day in his life for anything. He almost didn’t graduate high school because he barely cracked a book, figuring his father would bail him out. Hell, Tyson couldn’t even make it into Princeton without his father buying half the campus and committing to invest a boatload more cash later to grease the palms of the admissions board.
But money can’t buy brain power. I heard he got kicked out after his sophomore year.
I rub the throbbing stress knot on the back of my neck, pressing my foot on the gas when Nik’s name flashes on my dashboard. I stab the Accept call button, silencing Zack de la Rocha’s screams.
“Z, there’s been a change in plans. The shipment is coming in tonight. You need to get to the warehouse.”
I grip the steering wheel tight, clenching my teeth. After what just happened at The Surf Club, I really just want to go home and drown my past demons in bucketfuls of vodka.
Lost career, lost girl, lost life. A fucking string of failures that drags behind me wherever I go.
Vodka won’t help me get any of it back, but at least it’ll numb my brain for a few hours.
“You there?”
“Yeah.” A sharp breath escapes my mouth.
“How’d the meeting go?”
“Great. They want to work with us.” It should be good news, but my tone couldn’t be less enthusiastic.
“Why do you sound like someone just set fire to your precious ride?”
“Not funny,” I grumble. “And even though the meeting went fine, something happened afterward.”
“Something” was talk of my bum leg and nonexistent football career colliding with the girl whom I let get away… the girl who’s getting married to a world-class tool who doesn’t fucking deserve her.
Not saying I do, either… especially after what I put her through.
“You gonna elaborate? I’d like to get back to fucking my fiancée.”
