Page 10 of Addicted to the Bad Boy
And soon she’ll belong to someone else forever.
I drove by her house after she left, using the address my cop buddy got me. But her car wasn’t there. I sat outside waiting for her to come home, but when security spotted me, I had to bail before they got a look at my face.
Chances are she’s just with Sandy, but I can’t shake the feeling that she’s with her fiancé, whoever the hell he is. And whenever I think about that, it’s like an onslaught of painful visions slamming into me one after the other.
Engaged…
My jaw tightens. I gulp down half my beer in an attempt to drown out the wretched reality. She said no when I suggested he was a doctor or a lawyer, but that doesn’t mean he’s not some other kind of suit. Some preppy prick her parents would approveof. Because that’s what matters in the end: whether or not the Coolidges approve.
I take another sip of my beer, but I don’t even taste it anymore. I barely even register the door to the bar opening either, but when a boisterous, arrogant voice calls out, “Top shelf scotch, my good woman!” my teeth clench down on each other like I’m trying to bite cavities into them.
“And when I say top shelf, I meantop shelf!”The voice is grating, oozing with money and entitlement. Annoyed, I half turn around and see four guys, completely out of place, with striped dress shirts and loosened ties, pricey watches on their wrists and shit-eating grins plastered across their faces. They also look like they spent more time on their hair this morning than Cherry did.
The guy running his loud mouth is tall and clearly in shape, with swept-back sandy hair and a spray tan. “My boss is such a nut-buster,” he roars. “If I hadn’t pulled in six-mill this month, he’d still be riding my ass.”
“Yeah, cause you’re the new blood,” another guy chuckles. “And quit whining. You’re his pet because you’re banging his daughter.”
I go still, my beer centimeters from my lips.
“Fiancée,” the arrogant prick corrects him, snatching his drink from Cherry. “That’s what the big rock on her finger means, bro.”
“Yeah, yeah, suckthisbig rock,” his pal clowns him. “What’s her name again?”
“Mira.”
Every muscle in my body goes tense. All the breath escapes my lungs.
Mira.
This fucking snobby dickhead is her fiancé? I watch him toss back his scotch like I’m watching a horror movie in slow-motion, my fingers curling around my beer bottle like I could shatter it. He laughs and pounds his chest—a laughable attempt at masculinity. “She’s agood girl, you know what I mean? A little too good? But I guess I can’t complain. She comes with a massive dowry, and once we’re hitched, no way her dad can fire me. His company is as good as mine.”
His buddies roar with laughter as he continues, bragging about his future conquests and how he’s going to take over and become head of the family. Every word out of his mouth about my princess is degrading. This guy doesn’t give a single fuck about her happiness. He just wants her for her money. He goes on and on until I can’t take it anymore.
I stand, every fiber of my being on fire.
“Tyler,” one of his friends asks, “are you still seeing that chick from Lake Chelcuya? The one who loves anal?”
“You know it.” Tyler grins. “Told Mira I had to work late, and she bought it. Fucking clueless!”
For some reason, his eyes turn toward me, but I’m already moving—
Out the door and into the night.
I’m gasping for breath as I stride to my bike. It takes all my will to unclench my fists. It was nearly impossible to get my ass up and out of there, but I knew if I stayed, I’d end up doing a night in jail for assault and battery.
Rage runs through my veins like lava. The son of a bitch is cheating on her, my princess. Not only that, but he’s openly bragging and laughing about it too, as if he knows he’ll never face any consequences. And why would he? He mentioned Mira coming with a dowry, so it’s pretty clear he’s just in it for the money and the power.
But does Mira know that?
I pace outside the bar beside my bike, taking deep breaths, fighting to calm my heartrate. I’m walking a tightrope. My eyeskeep moving to the door. They’re still inside, still drinking, still bellowing loudly like their money makes them untouchable.
It would be so easy to just walk right in there and tear them all apart. They wouldn’t be able to even put up a fight. It would be no contest. I was built on the street, like a piece of iron hammered into the shape of a sword. Those guys were raised behind desks and in air-conditioned mansions, raised to believe they’re better than the rest of us.
But that’s not the right move here. I have a better plan.
I don’t care that Mira’s engaged. Not anymore.
She’s engaged to a liar, a cheater, a man who absolutely does not deserve her. She deserves a man who will worship her, ruin himself for her, treat her like the princess she is. And I’m that guy.
