Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 72931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Her body trembles. “I won’t be your slave.”
I roll my eyes. Girl watches too many fucking movies. “You will if I demand it.”
My threat has its intended effect because she submits. Good girl. Her body relaxes as she mutters out an “okay.”
Releasing her hair, I grab her shoulders and twist her to face me. Her eyes are watery but no tears have fallen. In the sunlight, she has a few visible freckles on her nose and cheeks. It’s cute. Dark lashes bat against her apple cheeks and her plump lips are pursed together in a pout.
Blaire.
My sweet Blaire.
I’m struck by how similar they are. Dark brown eyes. Pale skin. Pert nose. My palms cradle her sweet face and I lean in so I can memorize every detail.
“W-What are you doing?” she whispers.
“Lookin’ at you, kid.”
“Why?”
“I like what I see.”
“You trying to make me your old lady?”
Her words jar me from my selfish little fantasy of where she’s Blaire and I’m her daddy and all is fucking safe and right in the world.
“What?” I hiss. “Fuck no.”
My words seem to wound her because she flinches. “Oh.”
The moment is gone. I don’t see Blaire. Hadley’s eyebrows are different. One brow is naturally arched in a way that seems as though she’s always giving you a challenging look. Her lips are redder, fuller—the focal point on her face. Even the shape of her face is longer whereas Blaire’s was rounder. Hadley has a harder edge to her—a more womanly aspect that my baby girl never had. Blaire was innocent.
Hadley is not innocent.
I clear my throat and step away. My thumb brushes along her soft cheek before I release her. Her brows furrow together as she studies me. I take her hand and thread it with mine.
“Smile and try to act as though we belong together,” I grumble.
She lets out an annoyed huff. “I took drama. I know how to act. In fact, that’s how I won Miss—oh. Doesn’t matter where. I won.”
This girl is slick.
“You were a pageant girl?”
“Junior and them called me Beauty Queen,” she says in a regal tone before flinching. “You can call me Hadley.”
“Pageant Girl fits you better than Beauty Queen.”
“It makes me sound like I’m a kid.”
“You are a kid.”
“You’re an asshole.”
I smirk and shrug. “Takes one to know one, PG.”
“Ugh,” she groans. “Don’t call me that.”
“Too late,” I say, letting go of her hand to swat her ass. I address my group of grinning brothers. “PG is ready to play nice now.”
“PG?” Gibson asks, scratching at his beard.
“Pageant Girl.”
Dragon whistles, half hanging out of Copper’s truck. “You gonna put on a show for us, PG?”
She puts her hand on her hip, cocking it out to the side, her eyes flaring with attitude. “You couldn’t handle my show.”
“Prez,” he argues. “I can handle the girl. Tell her. Let me handle it. Please let me handle it.”
I shake my head. “You’re not touching her.” Then I pin her with a narrowed stare. “And you won’t be showing these guys anything.”
She shoots a challenging glare my way. “We’ll see, Daddy.”
I grit my teeth, staring after her.
“Oh, fuck,” Filter groans. “We’re in trouble with this little shit.”
“I’ll keep her in line,” I grind out. “You let me worry about her.”
“All yours, Prez. All fucking yours.”
Satisfaction slides through my veins.
Until we find her real daddy, she is mine.
Clouds darken the sky, warning of nasty storms, but I’m not worried. We’re pulling up to my compound and soon we’ll be safe from the rain. The drive up my gravel road is long. I love being nestled in the woods away from everyone. One day, it’s our hope to grow our chapter to fifty or sixty good, loyal brothers. Right now, there are ten of us. Not many compared to others like Animal’s chapter. But that’s okay. When I took on this gig, it was because I had a plan. I wanted nothing but loyalty, even if I had to breed it myself. Never again would I be caught with my pants down. I’m always prepared, and my brothers have my back, even if some of them can be total shitheads.
When I built my massive home, I did so considering the future of my MC. It’s built much like a hotel—plenty of suite-like bedrooms and lots of gathering rooms. We drink and cause a ruckus like the rest of the bikers out there, but we do so in style. Our beer is craft and local, none of this cheap QuikTrip shit. The place smells like motherfucking oranges thanks to Stormy’s wickless candle crap she spreads around the house. And we have a pool. Whenever we visit the other clubhouses, I see it in my guys’ eyes. They’re fuckin’ snobs just like me. I’ve given them a silver spoon and they won’t eat with anything else. The MC gives them a brotherhood, and I give them everything else.