Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 168587 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 843(@200wpm)___ 674(@250wpm)___ 562(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 168587 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 843(@200wpm)___ 674(@250wpm)___ 562(@300wpm)
His cell rings, breaking the silence, and he answers. “Hello?” He nods to himself. “I just stopped by Blackout for a second. I’m about to leave and will be home soon. Need me to stop and get anything for you?” He listens as the person—I’m guessing his is wife—on the other end speaks. “Love you.” He hangs up and stands. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
TWENTY-TWO
LAIKYN
I’m avoiding my husband. I’m mad at him, and although my ass reminds me that he’s probably going to spank me once again, I just don’t care.
How can he be mad at me for something I did years ago, when he’s fucking other women now? That doesn’t make any sense to me. I guess it doesn’t have to. He’s Tyson and does whatever he wants. I’m Laikyn, who has to obey her husband’s every demand.
The club has closed, and I’m standing at the end of the bar counting out my tips. I’m really surprised at how much I make here. And Tyson hasn’t taken my money away. Yet. Which means there’s hope that I can put some away for a rainy day if I ever get the chance to run away from this place and this life. I’ve always dreamed of something different.
I hear laughter and look over my shoulder to see four guys walking through the empty club, talking to one another. They make their way across the dance floor and over to the round booth where Tyson always sits while we’re cleaning up. He hasn’t even looked my way.
He’s proving a point. I know he saw that I read his text and chose to ignore it. My punishment will come later when we’re alone.
“Fuck, those guys are all fine.” A cocktail waitress by the name of Starla sighs. She hasn’t spoken directly to me, and she’s not now either.
Bethany snorts. “They’re all pretty much spoken for. So don’t waste your breath.”
“They can choke me any day,” Starla goes on. “Especially Colton Knox.”
I watch them all slide into the booth and talk to Tyson, wondering what they’re saying and who they are. Why is he allowing them in here after hours? I haven’t seen them here before, so I know they don’t work at the club.
“He’s definitely not available,” Bethany tells her.
“What? He’s a fuckboy. He’s not saving himself for marriage.” She snorts.
“He’s secretly in love with his stepsister.” Bethany rolls her eyes. “Everyone knows this. And Alex is in love with his high school sweetheart. That’s how they got their job working for Tyson to begin with.”
“They’re Lords?” I ask without thought.
Bethany and Starla both spin around to look at me. Their eyes narrow as if they had no clue I was standing right by them. I’m used to that—being invisible.
“No,” Starla answers, surprising me. “They work for a Lord. There’s a difference.”
I nod as if I understand. But I don’t. What does this Alex guy and his girlfriend have to do with Blackout and Tyson?
We all go about our business, cleaning our sections, tipping the bartenders, and putting everything away. When I finish, I look over to see Tyson sitting in the booth with the four men. I make my way upstairs and enter the bathroom. Yawning, I get undressed and step into the shower. I’m exhausted and just want to go to bed.
The warm water stings as it runs down over the belt marks on my ass, and it makes it hard to wash my hair, but I manage as quickly as I can.
Stepping out, I walk over to the mirror and run my hand through the steam on it. I stare at myself and sigh. I hate how I look. I don’t even recognize myself anymore. Over the past few years, I was transformed into someone that I’m not. It’s changed me. I felt myself slowly slip away every day.
My eyes look sad, my lips frown. Dropping the towel, I see my fake boobs, and I want to cry. I allowed a man to change me. Well, not like I had a choice, but I didn’t even end up with him. Now I’m stuck with this person that I don’t want to be.
Being told that you’re not good enough over and over gets to you. No matter how much you try to ignore it, you start to tell yourself that maybe one day it’ll get better, but it doesn’t.
I miss my dark hair, small boobs, and smile that I used to have. I always knew I’d be someone’s Lady, and although I didn’t love the idea, I was okay with it. I accepted it. Then everything changed.
Three years ago
“I got you something,” Luke says, entering my bedroom at my parents’ without even knocking. Good thing I’m dressed. My own mother won’t even alert me when he comes over to visit me or my father.