Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 105709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
I leave that out though, since Yana doesn’t blabber often.
She sighs, her arms falling to her sides. “And I could have wanted it, with him, Beast…” she shakes her head. “But he’s in love with a ghost.”
Words fail me, but I clear my throat and rub her arm. “I’m sure whatever you and Beast share will be your own to have, Yana. Stop overthinking everything.”
A smile stretches over her face, all sadness gone. Poof. “You’re right.” She shakes herself off before turning to the door. She looks at me before she slips out. “You sure you’re okay here?”
I wave her out. “Yes. Jada is lovely, I promise you I’m okay.”
Finally, she leaves, and the door clicks shut behind her.
Everyone here seems to be carrying secrets, wearing masks. Maybe that’s why I don’t feel so out of place here.
My phone screen lights up, and I rush to it, hoping it’s Millie, but see an unknown number.
Downstairs.
I don’t have to reply to know who it is, and I roll my eyes, slipping my feet into a pair of slippers and heading down the stairs as quietly as I can.
I’d barely hit the living room when the front door sways open and Hella’s large body fills the frame.
“What’s the matter? Finished already?” I really need to pull my shit together and stop exposing my hand. Dressed in a simple black shirt under his cut, denim jeans and combat boots, Hella doesn’t even entertain my question.
“Voice down,” he snaps, nudging his head toward outside.
I mumble a slur of cuss words, grabbing a throw blanket off the sofa and making my way outside, his body a wall of muscle in front of me. As soon as the door closes and we’re both sitting on the swing, he starts.
“What’s your story?”
“Why would you care? And also!” I turn to look at him, and then regret it when it’s a punch in the gut. Why is he perfection? Why is he everything I’d ever fantasized about when I’d rub one out? Why the fuck has he chosen me to torment? But mostly, “Why the fuck am I here?”
His eye twitches. “Because of the bullshit going off in Westbeach, and because they don't have the numbers to watch you on top of everyone else.”
I frown. I guess I had never thought of it like that. I'm here as a favor to Blake? My chest tightens, throat growing thick.
Hide it.
“I'm serious, Melissa.” He shifts forward, resting his weight on his forearms. “What's your fucking story? How'd you come about being friends with Phoebe?”
“Why does it matter? And what's with the 'What's your story, Melissa?' “I mimic his deep voice.
He ignores me. “Who's your father?”
The question lands like a gut punch. “His name's Joshua Hart and he was a drunk. Why?”
“You say was?” he presses.
“He was in a car accident.” I blink.
“When?”
What the fuck.
“Why?” I snap, gritting my teeth. “Why are you even talking to me about this shit?”
“I need to fucking know, so answer the goddamn question and shut your smart mouth for once in your fucking life.” His eyes drop down my body. “And your legs, while you're at it.”
I sit up straighter. “Excuse me? That's fucking rich!”
“Yeah?” he mutters, leaning back in the swing and spreading his arms out over the top. “My club, my rules. You stay away from all of the brothers here.”
He cannot be serious? Not that I planned to go homie hop, but now I kinda want to. “Where the fuck is this coming from? And no, I will not. I'll do what I want.” I inspect my nails.
Simple, voice low. “No, you won't.”
My eyes snap to him. “You didn't seem to mind my legs being open when they were wrapped around your waist, Huxley. Bit hypocritical, don'tcha think?”
He brushes me off once again, unaffected. “I fucking mean it, Melissa. Stay away from my brothers. If you need someone to fuck?” his hand is on my chin, his thumb pressed against my bottom lip. “Need someone to lick that pretty little pussy for you until the sun comes up and you forget your own fucking name? You come to me, and me only.” Then he shoves me away, standing to his full height. “Until then? Stay the fuck in your lane.” He disappears down the steps, and it’s not until I hear the roar of his bike start that I realise what the fuck he just said.
Dad was a drunk who drove off the Westbeach and Eastbeach conjunction bridge with my sister in the backseat before I left for Uni. My sister survived, running off to a nunnery, but my father didn’t.
What. The fuck. Is his deal.
Two days crawl by in this godforsaken compound, and I swear the air's gotten thicker. Jada's still cool, letting me crash at her place, but everyone else is being distant, and I haven’t seen Yana since she left me at Jada’s, though she promises we’ll do dinner and she’ll be around soon.