Before I can form a complete sentence, he pulls me from the chair and pushes me against his desk, his hand tight around my throat. I can’t get air. My fingers claw into his and panic threatens to engulf me. There will be more bruises there—if I live. I’m beginning to wonder if I will.
“You do not give your body to anyone, Beth. Not even your lips. Do I make myself clear?”
I can’t agree or disagree; the tight grip he has on my throat doesn’t allow it. Black spots are swimming in front of my eyes and I think I might pass out. Whether it’s from fear or lack of oxygen, I can’t say.
“I’ve been gentle with you because of your illness. Apparently too gentle. You are mine, Beth. No one will touch you except me. No one will stick his goddamn tongue in your mouth but me, and no one will get inside of your body except me. Do I make myself clear?”
His words make disgust boil inside of me. My eyes close, finally the panic and lack of oxygen combining to put me out of my misery. His hold on me loosens and I gasp for air, coughing and sputtering as my lungs try to take it in all at once. My legs are too weak to support myself and I sink to the floor.
“You will stay here the remainder of the week until I see that you have learned your lesson. Gerald, take her to her room.”
I hate having Gerald carry me. I want to argue, but I can’t, my whole body shaking at this point.
“Beth?”
Gerald stops and spins us around, my head lolling back, but I do my best to hold it up and look at the monster in front of me. We stand like that for a couple of minutes until finally I try to respond. “Yes?” I ask, my voice hoarse and raw. It sounds like I’ve screamed until I’ve lost a vocal cord.
Colin’s smile makes me shiver. “You will be dressed and down for dinner at six. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes,” I tell him, managing to hold my tears in until Gerald deposits me on the bed and leaves me alone in my room.
I cry until I can’t anymore. Exhausted, I fall asleep on the bed. My last thoughts are of Skull and what he must have thought when I didn’t show at the coffee shop… or when I never show again.
She’s late.
It’s an unusual feeling, waiting on a woman. It’s not something I can remember doing in all of my thirty years. I glance at the clock again. She’s exactly twenty minutes late. Each time the door opens, I feel tension coil inside of me, and each time it’s someone else, my anger spikes.
I can’t tell you if the anger is directed at her or at myself. I was stupid, playing the tease with her. I beat down the feelings inside of me that said to just take what I wanted. She just seemed so innocent. I wanted to give her time. Truthfully, it never occurred to me that she wouldn’t be here today. Women don’t usually turn me away. They never stand me the fuck up. As the door opens again, and it’s not her that walks through the door, I realize that I was way too smug.
It’s disappointing. I wanted to learn more about this woman, and I most definitely wanted to get lost inside of her. I pull away from the wall I’ve been leaning on. I’m standing outside the damn coffee shop waiting like a fucking loser.
Screw this shit. Torch is over on his bike talking to some wanna-be muffler bunny, but he looks up and points to the fucking watch he wears. Motherfucking-loser. What kind of fucking moron wears a watch these days? He wants to be a fucking smartass? I’ll remind him I’m his president the hard fucking way.
I walk towards my bike which is parked next to him.
“You stay here and don’t move. She shows up, you call my ass,” I growl, climbing on my girl.
“What?”
“You heard me, fucker,” I yell over the purr of my bike. Then I take off and don’t stop until I get to my damn club.
*
I stare at the empty shot glass. How many have I had? I can’t remember. It doesn’t fucking matter.
“Thanks for leaving me in town all day, Boss. Real fucking classy,” Torch says, coming to sit beside me at the bar. I glance at him before motioning for another drink. I down the shot and let the burn connect all the way down and then flip him off.
“Life’s a bitch,” I tell him.
“Yo, Skull man. Latch and Sabre just pulled up outside. They’re back from patrol,” Beast says, grabbing my attention. I’m a little buzzed, but still alert.
“Who told you to come home?” I ask Torch. I’ve been a bastard to him today and I shouldn’t have. I was upset over Beth and he got the brunt of it. Torch is a good brother. He’s the man I wish I could make my second. Unfortunately, Pistol was voted into that position before I even made president.
And I hate Pistol. He’s a sorry motherfucker, but I tolerate him. He challenged me when I first took over, replacing my tío. I beat him down and enjoyed every fucking moment of it. That was six years ago—a lifetime in the club world. Lately, he’s been making waves again. I don’t know what makes him think he can overtake me, but that shit isn’t about to happen. I beat his ass down once, and it appears I’m going to have to revisit that crap.