Page 34 of Burning Ember
As if I’m watching it on the big screen, horrid memories scroll through my mind. Nausea stirs in my stomach. I instantly feel dirty all over. I could take a hundred showers and still never rid myself of the filth those memories leave behind. I pull a deep breath into my lungs and shake out my balled fists.
Then I realize something and boldly tell him, “No.”
“No? No what?”
His hate is so ingrained that he doesn’t see me when he looks at me. He sees her, his ex. He’d rather believe in this conjured, distorted image of me than listen to anything I have to say to defend myself. I’m not baring my soul and showing him the most vulnerable parts of me. Just like I haven’t earned his anger, he hasn’t earned my answers.
“Just no,” I bite out.
“You’re not gonna tell me?” He cocks his head to one side. “Fine. Then let me guess.” He stands, places his hands on the desk, and leans toward me. The veins in his forearms bulge. “He didn’t take you out enough? Didn’t give you enough attention? Spend enough money on you?”
I roll my eyes. “That’s it.” Sarcasm drips from my words. “You nailed it. He was such a gentlemen. Rich. Handsome. Treated me like a queen.”More like slave.“And you know what? That wasn’t enough for me. Because I’m just like your ex, right?”
Mav’s face darkens, and his nostrils flare. He advances around the desk.
My pulse quickens. I back up but my knees hit the chair, stopping from getting any further away from him.
He grabs my chin and uses it to push me back down into my chair. He growls, “I don’t fuckin’ like you. I don’t want you here. In fact, I don’t want you anywhere near this club. But I gave Dozer my word. Twelve days. That’s it. And you better watch your fuckin’ step and that smart goddamn mouth of yours. You fuckin’ feel me?”
I glare up at him as I try to yank my chin from his iron grip, but his fingers clasp my jaw so tightly I’m certain they’ll leave fingerprints behind.
“You’ll clean, cook, do anything I fuckin’ tell you to do. And you’ll stay the fuck out of my way. That clear enough for you?”
“Yes.” The word is barely loud enough for my own ears.
The pause that follows is filled with tension.
“Yes, I understand,” I say louder this time.
“Good.” He pushes my face to the side before dropping his hand. Then he backs up and sits on the edge of his desk. He crosses his arms and continues to glare down at me. Minutes pass and I sit there for what seems like hours under his intense scowl. Finally, he says, “Answer me this? What happens at the party when Edge wants his piece of you? You gonna freak out? Embarrass the club?”
I shake my head.
“Let me hear you say it.”
“No.”
“What about when you’re the fresh piece of meat everyone’s looking to get a taste of?” He points to the door. “Those bastards can’t wait to get you on your knees, Doll. What happens when one of my brothers wants to get a sample of the smart mouth of yours? You gonna run? Or flip the fuck out?”
“No.”
“I’m not Dozer. Don’t bullshit me.”
“I’m not!”
“That right?” He shakes his head. Looks down. “Then why don’t I believe you?”
A few seconds later, he lifts his face. His eyes lock with mine. The corner of his mouth twitches almost as if he’s restraining a smile.
“Prove it.”
I blink up at him. “What?”
He uncrosses his arms and grabs the edge of the desk. His large knuckles go bone white and every muscle strains against the cotton of his T-shirt as he leans forward.
“I said . . . prove it. I want to see you get those knees of yours dirty.”
“But I—but—”
