It was then the reality of her situation truly set in. She was alone—no family, no fiancé, no staff, no friends—no one to take care of her but herself. And she’d never done it on her own before. Thankfully, her grandmother had left a trust fund in her name alone, so she had money but no direction or purpose or clue where to start. What good was money if she had nothing or no one else? She’d landed among a very tight-knit group of men who’d all hate her once Scott got done with them.
And she was terrified.
But was she more afraid of the big bad world than she was of her ex-fiancé?
That was the question. Because she could return home, cast herself at Lance’s feet, and promise to keep her mouth shut. She could vow to play the obedient, dutiful trophy wife who turned a blind eye to her husband’s heinous extracurriculars. She could have the security of an enormous house, staff, and millions of dollars at her disposal. This shopping trip would be a one-off, Scott’s scorn could be forgotten along with Brooke’s kindness, and she could be comfortable once again.
Couldn’t she?
A memory of the drugged woman struggling against Olivia’s fiancé flashed through her mind, making her stomach sour.
No. She couldn’t return. Not if she wanted to look at herself in the mirror ever again.
So, she had to put on her big girl panties—she had two packs now—and learn how to live in the real world so she’d never again find herself entangled or reliant on a man who turned out to be a monster.
“Olivia?” Brooke asked in a soft tone. “You okay? You’ve been staring at those sheets for about three minutes.”
She blinked. “Oh, sorry.” Her instinct to snap with some comment about the low quality of the bed linens became strong, but she resisted. Brooke had been nothing but compassionate, and it wasn’t her fault Olivia’s life was a hot mess. She sighed. Maybe she should try for honesty instead of a snippy comment to mask her anxiety. “I’m a little overwhelmed, to be honest.”
“Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do,” Brooke said. She grabbed the nearest sheet set and tossed it in the cart. “Let’s check out and hit up a nearby coffee shop for a break. Sound good?”
As her shoulders unwound, Olivia realized how tense she’d been. A break would be fantastic. A real break where she could forget her stress would be even better, but she’d take a coffee and a breather. “Sounds perfect. Thank you, Brooke.”
“My pleasure.” She winked. “Let’s get moving.”
After paying for a mountain of supplies that should last her a solid few weeks, they walked to a small coffee shop in the same strip mall as Target. Armed with giant iced coffees and two-thousand-calorie muffins, they strode across the busy street to a picturesque park.
“Oh, this is peaceful,” Olivia said as she sat on the warm park bench.
“I know. I love it here. Ray does too.”
Ducks swam in a still pond, the sun heated her skin, and joggers ran by every so often. Olivia closed her eyes and soaked in the serene environment. For the first time since she left her home, she was able to take a full breath. She was safe and had a place to sleep for the foreseeable future. All she needed to do now was figure out what to do next.
One step at a time. Today’s step had been getting necessities.
Piece of cake.
They sipped their drinks in silence for a few moments. Just as Olivia was about to dive into her cinnamon streusel muffin, Brooke stiffened and swore under her breath.
“You okay?” Olivia asked instead of sinking her teeth into her treat.
She followed Brooke’s troubled gaze to find two men in leather vests similar to the ones Scott and Curly wore heading their way.
“Don’t look at him,” Brooke said as she turned to Olivia.
“What? Why? Isn’t he part of the club?”
“No, he’s not. Don’t draw attention to us.”
Olivia’s heart rate climbed as she averted her gaze to the ducks in the pond. Tension radiated off Brooke, but she stayed outwardly calm.
From the corner of her eye, Olivia noticed one of the men staring their way. “I think it’s too late,” she whispered. “He noticed us. He’s coming this way.”
“Shit,” Brooke said. “Let’s go.” She started to stand, but the man reached them before her butt lifted off the bench.
“Where you ladies running off to? Don’t leave yet.” A greasy-nailed hand landed on Brooke’s shoulder, forcing her to remain seated.
She sent Olivia a worried side-eye that had a tremor of unease running down her spine.
An average-size man with shoulder-length blond hair and a matching goatee sat next to Brooke. He flashed a smile, showing a few gaps in his teeth. The motorcycle vest he wore had various patches but nothing to indicate involvement in a club like Scott’s Handlers’ patches had.