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“You can’t stay in your room and mope tonight, Sloane. The guys
will flip if you don’t show your face. We have another club visiting and are meant to entertain.” Megan tried to pull a brush through my hair. It was straight, but I hadn’t been wrapping it at night, so I could hear the knots as she tore through them.
“Ow, that hurts,” I cried, touching the pads of my fingers to my temples.
“I told you to go to the fucking salon a week ago, Sloane. This is your own fault,” Megan mumbled, annoyed.
“Well, excuse the hell out of me,” I croaked as tears welled in my eyes. A fresh wave of agony hit my chest. I didn’t want to party. I just wanted to lie down in bed and die, join my dad in the afterlife.
“We are celebrating an alliance,” Megan sneered. “Your presence is fucking required, princess.”
I hated when they called me that. I’d been called Princess all my life. Until recently, after the birthday debacle, it hadn’t been said in a derogatory manner. It had been more reverent. Respectful. Just like my daddy had demanded. But now it was used like a slur ever since I pissed off the new president at my 18th birthday party.
“Hurry, let’s get this over with,” my voice broke.
“Fine. Done.”
I tossed on jeans and a white shirt over my bra and underwear. Megan looked over my outfit with derision. “You’re really going to
wear that?”
I stared down at my hands. “It doesn’t matter anymore, does it? Everyone hates me.”
Scoffing, Megan flung open the door and stomped away.
I rubbed the space above my heart trying to get rid of the ache. I hated when we fought, but ever since my birthday/would-be engagement party, the ugliness within her had only grown stronger. I thought we could be what some may call frenemies, but she didn’t even consider me worthy of that anymore. She said I had not only humiliated the new president and my dead father, but her family as well since they had taken me in.
Two years ago, the men had gone on a run like usual, and all I knew was my father didn’t return with them. Oh, they all talked about getting revenge on a rival MC from out of town, but it didn’t add up. Never did. And like that, I was an orphan. Mother dead. Father dead. No family beyond the club. Now I didn’t even really have that.
At the clubhouse, I headed to the bar hoping to get drunk off my ass. Then I’d find Skunk and get some loud so I could fade away into the background.
“What’ll it be, princess?” Shotcaller bellowed over the music and merriment.
“Can you make me a Black Sunday?” I raised my voice, irritating my tight throat.
A hand wrapped around the back of my neck, causing me to flinch. I peered up and my eyes locked with HIS. The president of my father’s old empire, the man I publicly rejected, and the asshole who was now making my life a living hell.
“You know I only want you drinking Bay Breeze,” he whispered in my ear.
His hot breath sent shivers down my spine. That wasn’t an unusual reaction. Since I’d pissed him off, he’d pretty much turned me into one of the house bunnies that normally hung around here looking for a good time. But I didn’t want to be one. I actually cared about the club and wanted to be an integral part of it. My father had understood that. But now the only value I had to them was my body.
“I hate that drink. It tastes too sweet for me.” It also made my cunt taste sweet, he’d claimed, which was real reason he wanted me to keep drinking them.
I could see the anger and lust warring in his eyes. He didn’t like being defied. He wanted me to take his commands and follow them without question.
“Don’t make me punish you in front of all these members,” he warned.
Gulping, I shook my head even though my heart raced. I felt like my skin was too tight. Like I was masquerading as someone else. “I don’t want a Bay Breeze.”
He slammed my face into the bar. “YOU THINK YOU CAN DISRESPECT ME?”
“N-no. I don’t.” I tried to whisper, but he didn’t want to hear me. His days of indulging me ended when I turned eighteen.
“I’ll show you what happens to whores who don’t listen to what I say.” He motioned to his brothers, and they flanked him. “Hold her down,” he commanded.
Large arms held me on each side as he taught me a lesson I wouldn’t soon forget.
“—MAYBE SHE WOULD LIKE SOMETHING ELSE,” a sexy tenor pulled me back into the present.
