Oh. My. God.

What just happened?

My mind is reeling. My body aches and burns. My heart is pounding in my chest.

In a matter of thirty minutes, I went from Brock’s girlfriend to…Eric’s angel? I’m having trouble processing this. His hand is firm and hot wrapped tightly around my wrist. It’s possessive and claiming as he marches me out of Brock’s room without shame.

I, on the other hand, can’t lift my head.

Their eyes.

I feel all their eyes on me.

They had to have heard my screams, yet none dared to enter the room. On one hand, I’m glad, but I’m also irrationally angry at them. All four boys. I thought they cared about me. I could have been getting hurt. I was getting hurt. By their father. And none of them tried to stop it.

Of course, they didn’t know I enjoyed every second of it.

The whipping hurt. The way he talked to me hurt. The way he fingerfucked me hurt.

But I liked it.

Something’s wrong with me.

Am I so desperate to be grown and out from under Daddy’s overprotective thumb that I’m rebelling?

Eric stops, and I peek up beneath my lashes to face the boys who didn’t intervene. The worried stare of Camden, the youngest. The impassive, unreadable expression on Nixon's face. And the furious, hateful glare of Hayden.

“Great news, boys,” Eric says cheerfully. “Rowan isn’t going to jail.”

“What the fuck, Dad?” Hayden hisses.

I don’t say a word and turn my attention back to my feet.

“I’m going to give her the birthday present I have for her, then I want one of you boys to walk her home so she gets there safely,” Eric rumbles, authority dripping from his tone. He owns us all in some way. With his kids, he dangles money over their heads, and if they screw up, they don’t get it. With me?

I’m not sure why I’m under his spell, but I so am.

He had me the moment he walked into Brock’s room and shut the door, enclosing us in together. I allowed him to do all those things to me. I liked them. Oh God.

“I’ll walk her,” Hayden bites out. “I’ll be on the front porch.”

Eric squeezes my wrist and guides me down the hallway. Like a gentleman, he releases my hand and offers me his elbow. I grab hold of it and we walk side by side down the fancy staircase. It makes me feel like royalty.

We make it into the foyer and he escorts me to his office, where I find Brock sitting in a chair, staring up at the ceiling. After he gave me up so easily, I’m having a hard time looking at him.

“Rowan,” he utters.

I ignore him and squeeze Eric’s arm. He reaches over and pats my hand in support.

“Son,” he says to Brock. “I want you to see how a man treats a woman. One day, when you’re grown, you’ll need to know these things.”

Brock starts to speak, but Eric shakes his head at him.

“Don’t talk. Listen. She’s not yours anymore. All she is to you is a lesson,” Eric explains, then turns to me and smiles. “Ready for your present?”

“You got her a present?” Brock asks in confusion.

Eric grits his teeth and glares at his son. “A real man gets his woman a present on her birthday.”

My heart swells. His woman? I’m his woman?

“She’s not your—” Brock starts, but Eric interrupts.

“Shut your goddamn mouth and listen!” His nostrils flare with fury. Eric is strong and powerful. Authority seems to pulsate the air around him. It’s easy to get intoxicated by it. Brock, apparently afraid of his father, cowers and wisely zips his lips.

“On your knees, angel.” Eric smiles at me.

I blink in confusion. When his jaw ticks, my heart rate quickens. I don’t want to upset him. Quickly, I drop to my knees and rest my butt on my heels. My sex hurts from his violation, but it’s a reminder that he’s staked his claim. He reaches into his desk drawer and pulls out a Tiffany box wrapped in a thick white silky ribbon.

“For you,” he says, his voice husky and deep.

I shiver and take the gift. My knees hurt at the wood digging into my bony flesh, but I ignore it as I tug the ribbon away, letting it fall to the floor in front of me. When I open the box, I find a silver choker necklace inside with a large silver heart encrusted in diamonds hanging from the center.

It’s beautiful.

“A fucking dog collar?” Brock mutters, his voice shaking in horror.

I tense at his words. It’s too pretty to be a dog collar. Eric ignores him as he pulls the necklace from the box and flips the heart around to show me the inscription.

Daddy’s girl.

My mouth pops open, knowing it’s referring to him and not my real dad. That means…he planned this.

“I was always coming for you,” he murmurs, his other hand reaching forward to stroke his fingers through my hair. He sits in his desk chair and pats his knee. “Come closer.”

I crawl on my knees until I’m between his parted thighs.

“Hair, angel.”

Beaming at his sweet endearment, I lift my hair. He fastens the necklace, then motions for me to release my hair.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” he says to Brock.

Brock grumbles, and Eric once again ignores him as though his opinion doesn’t matter anyway.

“Stand,” he orders.

I rise to my feet in front of him.

“Rowan,” Brock says, his voice weak, “you don’t have to do this.”

A burst of anger surges up inside me like a gasoline tsunami. I jerk my head his way and hiss, “Mind your own fucking business.”

Brock gapes at me. Staring at him, it makes me realize how young he looks. He doesn’t have the dark five o’clock shadow like his father. He doesn’t have the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes or the slight bit of grey at his temples.

He’s a boy.

Turning, I smile at Eric.

My man.

“Thank you, Eric.” I beam at him so hard, my cheeks hurt. “I love it.”

“Don’t ever take it off,” Eric says, his voice turning cold. It makes me shiver.

“I won’t,” I rush out, wanting to appease him.

His handsome face breaks into a boyish grin that makes me want to rub my thighs together. “Good girl. You learn quickly.” He takes my hand and kisses the back of it. “Go home. We’ll continue this tomorrow.”

He releases me, and I know I’m dismissed. With a soft sigh, I walk way. Before I reach the door, Brock spits out, “So, it’s like that, huh? We break up and you bone my dad? Are you fucking kidding me? I always knew you were a wh—”

“Finish that fucking statement and I’ll make sure your life is a living hell,” Eric roars, rising to his feet. His chest heaves, his fury nearly knocking me over.

Brock shrinks in his seat, avoiding eye contact with me.

“Goodnight, beautiful.” Eric is once again all smiles.

I wave to him before darting out the door. The necklace is heavy, but I know it must have cost a fortune. My lips curve into a smile as I all but bounce through the foyer. As soon as I reach the front door, I let a small giggle escape.

This is unreal.

I’m seriously with the Eric Pearson.

He’s rich and powerful and hot.

Not his sons.

Him.

“What did he do to you?” an angry voice demands the moment I step onto the front porch.

Hayden leans against a pillar, a cigarette between his teeth. His scowl is fierce, and he puffs on his cancer stick as though he’s trying to punish it.

“What?”

He glowers at me. “Don’t fucking play dumb, Rowan.”

I wince at his tone. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” he demands as he flicks the cigarette to the ground and stomps on it. “Your screams sure as fuck didn’t sound like nothing.” He stalks over to me until he’s towering above me.

Holding my ground, I lift my chin and face off with him. “If it sounded like something more than nothing, maybe you should have done something about it.”

His eyes narrow. “What. Did. He. Do?”

I shove his hard chest, but he doesn’t budge. “None of your business!”

He grabs my wrists when I move to shove him again. “Did he rape you?”

“What?” I hiss. “Are you serious?”

“Tell me. I’ll kill that bastard if he hurt you.”

Jerking my hands from his grip, I turn on my heel and run through the yard toward my house, his heavy footsteps thudding behind me. I almost make it up my porch steps and into my house before he has his arm wrapped around my waist. He twists me around and pushes me up against my front door.

“I’ll kill him,” he murmurs before he tries to kiss me.

Fury, once again, explodes from within me. Like a cat straight from hell, I rake my claws across his face. He hisses in shock and stumbles away.

“Do not ever touch me again,” I seethe.

His anger is gone, and he flashes me a wounded expression. You lost your chance, buddy. When he starts for me again, I hiss, “Don’t come near me.”

“Rowan.” His voice is choked and pained, like he’s upset.

I’m upset.

How dare he?

“Leave. I’m home. Safe. Now, leave before I call your father.” I smirk at him.

His gaze darkens. “He’s going to ruin you, babe. He ruins everything he touches.”

My ass still burns, and I know I’ll be sporting some bruises. I feel as though I’ve been raped by a baseball bat. Everything hurts, aches, or burns, yet I’ve never felt so cared for.

“Maybe I want to be ruined.” With a sassy wave, I turn on my heel and go inside. It isn’t until I’m soaking in a hot bath and touching my new necklace that I take a moment to let it all sink in.

This was the best birthday of my life.