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“Don’t make me repeat myself, Laura. I’m not a patient man.” His fist slams into the wall and I cry in horror as he looks at me with those crazy eyes, full of murder and destruction.
“I’ve been at Xander’s apartment,” I say, my voice broken.
He charges at me like a wild animal. My heart pounds faster and faster as he cages me against the side of the desk, growling in my face.
“Did I ask where you’ve been? No, I didn’t. Answer the fucking question.”
“Nothing! I didn’t know I was supposed to be doing anything. Xander didn’t say anything,” I sob, completely petrified by this man.
“That’s because my son is weak. He’s so weak he’s practically one of the whores in this club. He’s so weak he can easily be controlled by one look in a set of pretty blue eyes,” he hisses as his thumb runs under my left eye, leaving a feeling of filth behind his touch.
“He’s not weak,” I spit back, using all the courage I can muster—which isn’t a lot—to defend my protector. “A weak man is someone who treats women like you do. It takes strength to stand up for what’s right instead of going with the flow.”
“So you think.” A deep, deadly noise emanates from his chest as he grabs my hair, yanking my head back so hard I feel a pop in my neck.
I cry out in pain, praying somewhere in the clubhouse Xander hears it and comes to my rescue, but this isn’t some fairytale. I may be a damsel in distress, but there isn’t some white knight coming to save me from this villainous monster.
“You’re a whore, Laura. You have one purpose in this club and that’s to spread your legs. The only reason I brought you into this was to get him under control. His weakness makes him a loose cannon and your pretty face is my leverage.”
His words make zero sense. I can’t be used against Xander. He barely knows me and how could he possibly know Xander and I haven’t had sex? Everyone thinks we have.
“You brought me into this because you took advantage of me when I was drunk,” I resist, tears filling my eyes.
A maniacal laugh escapes him as he throws his head back. He looks at me completely amused before he shakes his head. “I didn’t take advantage of you. You’re so fucking ignorant. Inevertouched you. You were so damn easy to trick. Everyone thinks if you fuck a biker you become his property, so I knew it would be so easy to get you to think I’d fucked you. I’m old enough to be your father, maybe even your grandfather, and I’m not into pedophilia. I got you drunk, took you back to your apartment, and waited for you to wake up simply because I saw the way he looked at you. He wanted you, but he’s so fucking stubborn. He won’t drag anyone into this life so I did it for him.”
That’s impossible. Xander and I only interacted once and no one was around. How could he have known that happened?
“This is the way it’s going to go. You’re going to give him what he wants. You’ll fuck him, he’ll claim you as his, you’ll get married, pop out a few kids, and when he retires, you’ll be free of this club. Play your cards right and he’ll be the only one in this club to touch you. If you defy me, I’ll sell you off to the sex trade. You’ll end up bound and gagged in a sexual sadist’s basement. Do I make myself clear?”
The tears flow down my face like a rapid and my body trembles. “You’re a monster.” Everything he offers, if I follow his orders, sounds like a pretty good outcome for what I’ve been dragged into, but this whole thing was his elaborate plan to give me to his son. What kind of heartless prick does this to someone?
Apparently, he does.
“Yes, I’m a monster and this monster is going to make you a queen if you stop fighting it.”
Why am I fighting it? What he is suggesting is the same thing Roxy and the other women said I need to do to survive. Xander and I have this unshakeable connection that turns me into a puddle of goo when he looks at me.
No matter how hard I fight it, I want Xander so bad.
Suddenly, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a shiny metal gun and presses it against my chin. My blood runs cold and the fear coursing through my veins nearly makes me vomit.
“Take off your clothes,” he demands.
“What? No!” I try to step back but I’m still caught between him and the desk. No way out.
He cocks the gun and presses the barrel against my throat. “You do what I say, Laura, or my son will find you missing that pretty face. No eyes, no lips, no nose. Just a big, black, bloody hole in your skull where your face used to be.” His eyes narrow with anger. “Take off your clothes, whore.”
I have no choice here. I struggle to push the vest over my shoulder but soon the leather hits the floor.
“Your shorts,” he demands, pointing the gun at me, standing a few feet away.
I slam my eyes shut and slowly push my shorts down to my ankles.
“Your underwear, too, whore,” he growls in anger.
I feel so dirty and degraded as I push down my panties, kicking them away as they hit my ankles. I’m only naked on the bottom half of my body, but it’s enough to make me feel like a thousand people are spitting on my body, demanding sexual favors from me in the most disgusting manner.
“Turn around and bend over,” he pushes for more and I panic.
