Of course they have fucking talking appliances.
There are crystal chandeliers hanging low from the ceiling and art covering the white walls. It’s all so clean, spotless, and perfect—and screams money. Every gilded edge, every vase and feature meant to impress.
Fuck, they even have stepping stones into what looks like a pond in a corner. How the other half lives. I shake my head as Kenzo pushes me forward, and I stumble before whipping my head around to glare at him. He’s grinning, flashing straight white teeth at me. “Asshole,” I sneer, and turn back to see all of them looking at me now.
I’m so out of place, I feel tiny and insignificant. My clothes are cheap, but fuck it. They stole me, they knew who I was. I tip my head back and give them a haughty look as I stroll over to the table where Garrett is nursing a mug of what smells like coffee. Diesel is there too, his booted feet propped up on the glass table as he flips a lighter around in his hand.
Ryder heads over, placing a platter on the table and sitting down in the head chair, setting a napkin delicately in his lap. He’s in another suit today—a grey, pinstriped one with a fucking waistcoat, the material tightening around his impressive thighs as he leans back, sipping from a goddamn teacup.
He makes the thing look tiny, yet it seems to fit him somehow. His eyes watch me, analysing my every move as I stand there awkwardly before deciding to pick a chair and plop into it, very ungracefully. Slamming my own bare feet on the table, I cross my arms and narrow my eyes at him. “I want my boots back.”
Those boots cost me a small fortune and are one of the only things I’ve ever splurged on and bought for myself.
He sips from the cup and places it on a saucer on the table. It’s weirdly fascinating and kind of arousing, watching the man wrap his lips around such a dainty cup. Not that I’ll ever tell him that, asshole.
Diesel leans forward, his dark eyes watching me as he pushes his long, blond hair behind his ears. Like usual, Garrett ignores me.
Diesel is a fucking mad dog, Ryder is an arrogant asshole, and Kenzo is a charming psychopath…I can’t figure Garrett out. He seems to want to ignore my presence altogether. He doesn’t even look up at me. Kenzo sits next to me and grabs two mugs. “Coffee?”
“Dark,” I reply, and he pours it for me. I wrap my hands around the mug, wincing as my injured one aches.
Ryder notices, of course. I don’t think there is anything this man doesn’t notice. He has eyes like a hawk. “That serves you right for acting like a child and destroying your room.”
Did he just reprimand me…like a fucking kid? I have the urge to throw my coffee in his face, and he narrows his cold eyes like he knows my thoughts. “Do not test me. Because of your outburst, I have some people coming to fix the room today. You can’t be left alone, so you will stay with Kenzo.”
“A prison guard?” I laugh bitterly as I sip the coffee, which, annoyingly, is very fucking good.
“For your protection, and yes, to stop you from hurting yourself or trying to leave,” Ryder replies matter-of-factly, as he picks up his cutlery and starts to slice into his food. “Eat, you must be hungry.”
Then he ignores me like I’m nothing more than an annoyance. If that’s true, then why did he grab me? Is it because it was business to cover a debt? A warning to others? I don’t know, and honestly, I don’t care.
Kenzo places food on my plate, a full English, but I feel too sick to eat. What do they think, that a fancy apartment and good food will make me stop trying to escape? Do they really just expect me to accept it?
Yes, I can tell they do. They are used to being obeyed, to people doing as they’re told.
“Is your hand still bleeding, pretty bird?” Diesel inquires, propping his chin on his hand as he watches me. It doesn’t escape me that Kenzo is between him and me.
They did it on purpose, but why? Why do they care what Diesel does to me? After all, they said I’m theirs to do with as they please. Ignoring him, I turn to Ryder, knowing he’s the one who has answers.
“My bar—” I start.
He lifts those cold eyes, freezing me in place. Most people watch you, but they don’t give you their full attention. Not Ryder, he locks you in place, analysing everything until I’m sure he knows there’s a bead of sweat dripping down my spine and my hands are shaking slightly in fear despite my bravado. He notes it all, watching me, using it against me. This is a man who likes complete control.
“What of it?” he challenges, his voice smooth and cultured. There is nothing rough about this man, everything is so perfect, but underneath all that…there is still a viper. A deadly, accurate snake.
“What will happen to it?” I ask.
“We’ll probably sell it or destroy it,” he answers unemotionally. Curling my fingers into my injured palm, I stop myself from lunging at him and trying to choke the bastard. That’s my bar.
Mine.
God, if Rich could see it now—it’s that thought that stops me. I promised to look after the place, to keep it running for him. I have to, even if it kills me.
“Please, please don’t.” I grit my teeth over the words, the only hint of weakness I will allow.
He sits back, his lips tilting up at the corner ever so slightly. “Fine, until we have decided what to do with it, I’ll allow your…associates to carry on business.”
I snort at his use of the word ‘associates.’ He means Cook and Travis. “Do they know what happened to me?”
He raises his eyebrow. “No, they think you had a family emergency and had to leave.”
I laugh, outright laugh, and he watches me. “Something funny?”
I can sense the others glancing between us, all sounds of eating stopping. Oh, Ryder doesn’t like not knowing something, at being the butt of a joke. “I have no family, they know that.” I snort.
“You have a father,” he replies in confusion.
“I disowned him years ago.” I shrug. “Everyone knows that.”
He nods, wiping his mouth with his napkin before folding it perfectly and placing it on the table. “I saw you were emancipated at seventeen.”
I lift my head then, wondering how. “How—”
He smiles then, and it’s so cold and evil, I actually shudder. Fuck. “We have our ways, love. I could find out anything about anyone. Give me a moment, and I’ll know the basics. An hour, I’ll know your life…” He leans close, his minty breath wafting across me, he smells like mint and wood. “Give me a day, and I can destroy you with everything I know.”
Tilting my head away, I keep my eyes locked on his, refusing to back down. “Fine, you know shit about me, who doesn’t? That doesn’t mean you know me.”
“No?” he counters, arching a brow as he sits back. Surprise enters his eyes at my refusal to concede, to be scared or intimidated, and I can imagine it’s a first. “Then let me enlighten you. You have broken nearly every bone in your body since you were three years old. Your father, probably, since he’s a drunk. Your mother was a drug addict who finally killed herself when you were fourteen. You walk like someone who can hold her own, you know how to fight. Most likely took some lessons. You own a gun which shows you have some…unsavoury friends. You aren’t afraid to run a dive bar, which shows you’re brave and slightly stupid. You don’t have a boyfriend, probably because of your glaring daddy issues—in fact, it seems you just have passing lovers. None who even know your full name, just the way you like it, keeping you in charge. How am I doing?”
“All right, apart from one,” I snarl, standing. “My mother didn’t kill herself. My father did that when he stuck the needle in her vein and pushed the plunger.”
I turn away and Diesel blocks my path. “Where are you going, Little Bird?”
“I did not dismiss you,” Ryder snaps behind me. “Sit down.”
Grinding my teeth, I take a deep breath, balling my hands into fists, and spin back around and sit. He nods and carries on eating, ignoring me. “Today, I’m going to be in meetings until after lunch. Tonight, I expect you all here. Tomorrow, Garrett and I are away most of the day,” he informs them.
“Where are you going, bro?” Kenzo inquires as he eats.
“We have some matters to deal with up north, a disagreement on pay.” Ryder rolls his eyes. “It will be sorted quickly. In the meantime, I want your ears to the ground, Kenzo. Keep your eyes open for retribution from the Triad. They won’t give up that easily.”
I sit there soaking it all in, noting as much about them as I can. They are talking freely in front of me. Why?
Because they expect I’ll never tell anyone.
It sends a bolt of fear through me, which burns away to anger. They plan to snuff me out like I’m nothing, just another business deal for them. It infuriates me, fuck fear. I’m angry, livid.
These bastards need to pay. I spend the rest of breakfast silently fuming, refusing to eat. I’m going to make them pay.
RYDER
Iwatch Roxy out of the corner of my eye, or Roxxane, as her birth certificate read. Not that she goes by it. Overnight, I learned a lot about our new house guest.
It seems I was right, her father abused her. Something she cemented when she told us about her mother a moment ago. I knew he was a bastard, but I didn’t know how much. It’s a surprise she’s even alive right now, the ER records made my blood boil. Even as a kid, she suffered. It all seemed very familiar and too close to home as I read back on the broken bones and internal injuries. Yet not one person tried to stop him nor cared enough to intervene.
Another child lost in the system.
Forgotten, unloved, left in the dark to suffer alone.
Yet here she is, fighting even now. I expect her to be dainty and afraid, like so many survivors. I expect her to flinch and wither away, but if anything, she seems to have used that to harden herself to the world. Her scars cover her body, only highlighted by her tattoos, a way to draw attention to her. Her story is written across her skin.
I read the judge ordered emancipation, but I’m still having it fully unsealed to see where she went after that. To destroy someone fully, you need to know everything about them, and I don’t yet, though she clearly thinks I do. It keeps her on edge, guessing. The way I like it.
Her fists are clenched on the table, her lips taut and eyes flashing in anger. She sits bolt upright in her chair, not touching the food on her plate, even though I can hear her stomach rumbling. I’m betting she’s used to going hungry. Kenzo is scarfing food next to her, a habit he’s never broken. One ingrained into him from not knowing when he would next eat.
It hurts me for a moment to see that, but I push those memories away, resealing that behind a wall of ice as I sip my tea. I watch Roxxane, my eyes roving over her appreciatively. Even behind all that makeup and anger, she’s beautiful. In fact, it only highlights her beauty. The colour of her hair is the shade of ice…the colour of my soul. Her eyes are dark rimmed and draw your gaze, and her lips are plump and red, even without lipstick and the puffiness to it.
She truly is gorgeous, a natural beauty that’s clear to see. I’ve dated models, princesses, and some of the most beautiful women in the world, but Roxxane? She blows them away. She has an unadulterated loveliness and gracefulness they all strive for. Her curves are mouth-watering, not surgically enhanced like so many. Crossing my legs, I adjust my hard-on, trying to ignore it. I will never act on it.
She might be beautiful, and her fight, her willingness to not back down is a massive turn-on, but she’s too wild. Too unpredictable to bed. I like my women meek, I like them there and gone when I order it. Never interrupting my life, just a primal urge that I have to let out.
Roxxane wouldn’t be that, she would fight me the whole way. She would be memorable. I don’t have time for distractions, and she’s a massive one. I have a city to run and brothers to protect, and I won’t let a woman destroy us again.
Not even one wrapped up in such a beautiful, tragic package like Roxxane.
She catches me looking and narrows her eyes, unafraid of me, even though I hold her life in my hands. It almost makes me smile—almost.
I can see why Diesel is so entranced by her and why Kenzo wants her. My phone vibrates, bringing me from my thoughts, and I check it to see it’s my alarm. I’m almost late.
Unheard of.
Standing, I glance at the others, who nod, knowing the drill. “Let’s go.”
I look to her then. “Behave,” I order, and I see anger flare in her eyes again, that same need to push her washing through me. She sure is fun to annoy.
I turn away, leaving Roxxane with Kenzo. I have an empire to run, and it’s time to remind a few unruly businesses who think they can fight back of that fact. Slicking back my hair, I straighten my suit and stride from the apartment, my brothers on my heels.
Roxxane is nothing more than a disruption, one I will be rid of soon.
Honestly, I don’t know what we are going to do with her. We took her as a lesson, a warning. The unknown aspect of it all is annoying me, leaving me unable to relax enough to sleep. A person is unpredictable, I have come to know that, but if you know them, how to control them, just where to push, just where to kick or hit—with both fists and information—you can get them to do what you want.
Roxxane will not be like that, I can tell. She doesn’t react like a normal person, she’s wild. Uncontrolled. A nightmare for me. Not that I will let her see that. No, she will come to heel, or we’ll kill her.
Either works. For now, I’ll ignore her the best I can. I have far more important matters to deal with than one trashy little girl from the southside with anger in her eyes and pain in her heart.