This chair is so fucking uncomfortable, my ass is numb. My eyes peel open and snap closed when the sun beams through the window like a fucking heat beacon.
Standing, I walk over and yank the curtains closed, pulling my cell phone from my pocket to see missed calls and incoming texts from Prez wanting an update.
My gaze drifts to the bed. The duvet is scrunched up; she must be sweating or comatose under there.
Grabbing the material in my fist, I tug it from the bed.
Empty sheets greet me.
She’s gone. I should have handcuffed her to the bed frame. I thought she knew the stakes if we don’t go through with this. Maybe, after all the talk about her dad, she wanted war to rid herself of him, but she’d be going with him. War would mean killing them all. How the fuck did I sleep through her slipping out?
Swiping up my cut, I slide it on and march from the room. The pimply-faced fucker at the desk must have seen which direction she took off in.
I don’t need this bullshit.
“Where are you going?” I hear from behind me as I reach the reception door. Turning, a sigh leaves my chest. It’s only then I realize my lungs are as tight as hell.
She’s wearing a simple white dress and black boots tied all the way up to her knees. Well, damn.
She comes within a hair’s breadth of my face and shrugs her shoulders. “I thought I should at least dress the part.”
I quirk a brow and look her over. “White?” I snort, and her eyes narrow.
“You want to marry me or not, asshole?”
“Not, but we don’t have a choice. So let’s get it over with.”
Rolling her eyes, she slaps something against my chest. “How romantic.”
I take the plastic from her hand and read my name emblazoned across it. “You stole my credit card?”
“Borrowed. I’ll pay you back when your fuckwit of a brother tells you where my purse is,” she calls over her shoulder.
Walking back inside the motel room, she drops her bags on the table. Bags—plural.
“What the hell did you buy?”
She looks over her shoulder at me as I follow her inside and she knits her brow. “I needed fresh underwear and an outfit.”
She rummages through one of the bags and pulls out a cell phone box. Holding it up, she scrunches up her nose. “Sorry, but I needed a new cell too, to text my dad. He will lose his mind if I don’t check in.”
I don’t give a fuck about the money she’s spending, although if it’s any indication of how she’s going to spend once we’re married, it might become a problem. I’m not hurting for cash, but I’d like to keep it that way. I’m not interested in keeping a woman to spend my money on, or just to fuck me missionary for the rest of my life.
“Why does your father make you check in? From what you’ve said about him, I don’t understand.”
She holds up her hand to stop me. Placing both hands on her hips, she talks slowly, as if addressing an infant. “Listen, Slade.”
“Frost.”
“Whatever. Don’t misinterpret what I’ve been telling you. My dad isn’t the cuddly bear daddy every girl dreams of, but I’m still his kid. The one thing my father demands, craves like a drug, is respect and control. His pride is what controls him. He treats me like a possession. He owns me, and I, just like the brothers, obey the Prez. If his brothers thought he didn’t have a handle on his own daughter, it would make him weak in their eyes.”
“No one owns you, Avery.”
She stares at me for a few silent seconds. “You own me now.” She states it bitterly.
“It’s not like that.”
“Then what is it like? How is this going to work? Do you expect me to play the wife role or are we locked in on paper only and both can go about our own business?”
She stares at me with pleading eyes. She looks much older than her eighteen years with the weight of the world racing through her features.
My jaw tightens. “Pretty much the latter.”
As she folds her arms over her chest, my eyes dip to the tits she’s pushing up. She has big, natural tits, which peek over a trim waistline that becomes a little more rounded toward her navel. She had a classic hourglass figure.
“So, I can do what I want?”
“Sure.”
“Go to school?” She tilts her chin up.
“I have no qualms about not being married to a dumb bitch.”
Her eyes turn dark. “And I can fuck who I want?”
Motherfucker. Images of her naked and being ridden hard by some frat boy flickers like a bad movie in my head.
Why does that anger me?
Because no wife of yours would need to get her pleasure elsewhere.
“We need to sell that we’re loved up.”
She laughs without humor. “So you’re not going to be fucking anyone else?”
“You say it like I’m going to be fucking you.” I smirk.
A crimson glow spreads up her neck and sprouts over her cheeks.
“Listen, princess, this isn’t something either of us thought we would be doing, so let’s just cross each bridge as we get to it.”
“Fine.” She grabs her crap and nods her head at me. “Let’s do it.”
My eyes drop to her hand and my mouth falls open. “What the fuck is that?”
She licks over her bottom lip and sucks it into her mouth before shrugging her shoulders. “I’m a princess. I wouldn’t accept a proposal without a ring.”
“That’s not a fucking ring; it’s a planet.”
A huge diamond sits neatly on her finger, glaring up at me. Fuck. How much is my credit limit on that card?
She laughs and points at me. “You look like you’re going to pass out.”
“I am.”
Her hand reaches forward and plants itself over my heart. “Calm yourself, Slade. It’s not real. It just looks the part.”
Thank fuck for that, although she will need a real one.
I’m not sure if I’ll even survive being married to her. Me or my bank balance. Her ass sashays as she walks out of the room and more images assault me, only it’s not a frat boy fucking her doggy style, it’s me.