Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 137326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Is it supposed to hurt this much?
No, this isn’t pain. It’s anger.
It has to be anger.
I’m not asking you to invite me. Just tell me the place. No one will know.
You’re so lucky you have a hot friend. Here’s the address.
He sends me a location and I reply with Megan’s number.
Sweet!
Also, don’t let Captain know I sent the address. He’s already a pain in the ass these days. Don’t want to get on his bad side.
Don’t worry.
I exit the chat with Ryder and open a new one with the contact titled, “Two Week Mistake.”
Me
Are you in the mood for some drama?
Two Week Mistake
Always.
Later that night, I arrive at the club with my arm wrapped around Marcus’s.
It was his choice to come here, knowing it’s full of the Vipers, but if there’s one thing I’m sure about when it comes to Marcus, it’s that he doesn’t give a fuck about anyone.
Me included.
He’s only here to stir up chaos like he does wherever he goes.
The club pulses with life, a low hum of music vibrating through the walls and under my skin. The air is thick with an overpowering mixture of alcohol and perfume.
Neon lights flash above, cutting through the smoke that hangs in the air and casting the room in shades of green and red. It’s crowded, packed with bodies swaying to the bass-heavy beat that thumps from the speakers, loud enough to rattle the glass bottles lined up behind the bar.
I step through the door, the click of my heels drowned out by the music, and I can feel eyes eating my skin.
Megan managed to turn me into a swan again. Thick eyeliner, smoky shadow, and red lips. She also insisted I wear the green dress she couldn’t fit into. It clings to my body, the silky fabric sliding over my skin with every step. It’s bold, with a plunging neckline, an open back, and a slit that teases more than it reveals.
It’s meant to be noticed.
It’s also meant to be a message—I’m wearing the dress he bought me while I’m with another man.
And not just any man.
Marcus Osborn is the archnemesis of the entire Vipers team and a reminder of their recent humiliation.
His presence is solid beside me, but it’s all for show. His hand rests possessively at my waist, and I let it. His body heat presses against mine as he leans in to whisper, “Is it just me or do you now make more effort to look so fucking hot.”
“Should’ve kept me when you had me instead of trying to share me with your friends.”
He laughs, the sound drowned out by the thrumming music as we stop by the bar. It’s dim, mostly lit by a purple neon glow, and animated by people shouting over the music.
“You’re still mad about that, Dahlia? I told you I don’t do relationships. They’re a fucking drag, and I let you go, didn’t I? But maybe I’ll try to seduce you again tonight.”
“That train has left the station.”
“I can see that. Davenport is such a boring choice, though. You could’ve gone for someone more interesting.”
“What’s your idea of interesting?”
“The prince.” He grins as he raises his glass to the second floor. “On second thought, anyone but the prince.”
My ears prickle and I can feel heavy eyes stripping me naked and clawing at my skin.
When I follow Marcus’s field of vision, I see almost the entire Vipers team in the VIP area above. Some are dancing, but many of them are standing by the glass barrier, all scowling at Marcus.
All except for Preston, who looks bored as he sips from his drink. And Ryder, who winces at me.
But the one who’s glaring the most? The one who seems to be on the verge of exploding?
Kane.
He looks so cutthroat and domineering in black pants and a white polo shirt with his hair slicked back. He watches me with cold intensity, his fingers tightening around his glass.
And Isabella is standing by his side, running her claws all over his collar.
But his entire attention is on me.
Eyes burning.
Lips slightly snarling.
I can almost feel his hand wrapping around my throat, squeezing as he whispers hot, angry words in my ear.
And I smile.
This is me making him regret what he said. What he’s done.
If he doesn’t care about me like he said that day, why would he look like he’s on the verge of decapitating my date medieval style?
“Whoa.” Marcus laughs. “I can feel the hostility. Oh my. They hate me that much, huh?”
“In their defense, you’re the hate-inducing type.” I look at him and pretend to smile at what he’s saying.
“I am, right?” He grins. “So why isn’t he hating?”
“Who’s he?”
Abandoning his drink, Marcus grabs my arm. “Let’s give them the show we’re here for.”
He drags me to the dance floor, wraps his arms around either side of my waist, and crushes me to his chest as we sway to the music.