Page 48 of Property of Lucian

Chapter 37

Haylee

Some girls grow up wanting a prince, I grew up wanting the devil. I wanted a man that scared the living shit out of everyone, including me. But what I wanted more than that was a man who stood by me, proud of me for living a life that most women couldn’t, or simply just looked at it as a man’s role.

I didn’t want to be the neck that controlled the head. I didn’t want to be in the shadows. I wanted to live, breathe, and love a life that most didn’t understand. I didn’t care if it was viewed as a man’s world. I loved it, I loved the legacy I was creating. Or at least I had . . . till I married Lucian—who sadly wasn’t the man for me. I knew that now. But still, you can’t undo past mistakes.

I was loyal to being his property but that was it. I could still carry myself if needed. I never needed my brother to care for me. I was sixteen when I went to youth detention for the first time for dealing drugs on the streets. I could care for myself then, and I sure as fuck could care for myself now.

So why the hell was I still here?

I looked down at his tattoo knowing that my loyalty to the laws and codes he lived by was stronger than it deserved to be. My brother owed them, I think I had paid the debt back by now. After all, I had saved his daughter twice, had followed all the codes, and then got him off a three-year prison sentence.

However, that still wasn’t enough in my eyes to excuse myself from walking. I knew Lucian wouldn’t stop me from walking from our commitment because he was still in love with his ex.

And that boiled the bile in my stomach.

LUCIAN

Arriving at the club, everyone was staying clear of me. They knew how well I took being locked up, even temporally. I didn’t do jail well, prison I did. But jail, no. The waiting, the not sure how long I was getting, the uncertainty if anyone was going to post my bail. It eats at ya, gets under ya skin. It was one of the reasons I called Angeline. Her and I have a very clear understanding—she is to always post bail or I’ll cut her off.

I just assumed Haylee was pissed at me for what happened, and my trust for her wasn’t as strong as the agreement I had with Angeline. I thought Haylee would leave me to rot in there, and I couldn’t stand that. So, I turned to Angeline. Fuck, when I got out those doors and saw the rage across Haylee’s face, I knew she was doubting everything we were.

How do I make this up to her? I was still asking myself that question when I opened my door.

I knew it was time that we moved out of the dorm and into my house. But I liked having her at the club, able to take her whenever I wanted, but also to turn to her when shit was getting out of control.

She knew this life like the back of her hand.

She knew how to react, when to react and when to wait.

But most of all, there was no shame in her eyes when she woke up in my bed. She wasn’t shattering to get her clothes and leave.

I scanned the room and she was nowhere in sight, and then I saw it. The folded piece of paper on the bed. She had left, didn’t need to fucking read it to know. After all, Angeline had left me the same letter. Except she added a footnote that she was pregnant.

Picking it up, it took all my courage to unfold it.

---