Rage (Royal Bastards MC 2)

“Yes,” I whimper, the first tear tipping over onto my cheek.

“Do we have a fucking deal or not?” Milo demands, pacing the spot he hasn’t moved from since exiting the elevator.

Swiping the tear from my lip with the pad of his thumb and sucking it into his mouth, he looks over to my brother, a smirk hooking his lips like a villain creeping out of the pages of my books. “We have a deal, Mr. Hendrix.”

Oh God, Milo. Internal screams shatter my sanity as ice moves through my body, numbing me, allowing me to detach from the reality of why we’re here.

The man lifts his chin, signaling to a bag placed on a coffee table in the center of the room. “It’s all there,” he announces, releasing his hold on my chin, but dominating the space around me.

My heart cracks. My soul rips away.

“I’ll be back for her in the morning. You remember the terms.”

“I’m a businessman. She will be intact when you come for her.”

Sickness scolds the back of my throat. I reach out toward Milo in a desperate last plea. “Milo,” I implore, his name soaked in my sorrow.

Don’t do this. Please. “Milo?” I croak on a broken whisper. You’re killing me.

What’s left of my love, my hope, dies a final death as he takes his bag of treasure. The cost of my virginity in stacked green paper—the value of my worth.

Four

Willa

Nineteen years old

Nerves dance around my stomach like giant bees stinging from within as the elevator ascends to the penthouse. I’ve been coming here once a month since I was fifteen. It’s odd knowing I shouldn’t be here after all the time I’ve spent here. I know the rules and have never broken them, but like always, I’m bailing Milo out of another bind.

After the first time, Milo didn’t look at me for months once he returned for me the following morning. He never asked if I was okay. Never offered any kind of apology. Just sold my virginity for his financial gain. It was a dirty secret no one but us knew about, and he convinced himself if he didn’t see the action happen, didn’t hear my cries, didn’t hear my pleading and screaming, then my consent was given.

“We both have to make sacrifices.”

My sacrifice wasn’t a choice. He chose for me—for our family—for him to build a reputation. He used me like I was nothing more than a possession he could do with as he pleased. An asset to sell. A way to make easy, regular money. He bought a crap bar just on the edge of town—a place to conduct business. Nice to know what my body was worth. A cockroach infested shithole.

“We can have our house back to being home,” he tried to convince me. He didn’t care. He needed a place to launder money and a base for his activities, and no one was going to take him seriously operating out of the run down house we’ve lived in since before I can remember.

The elevator pings open, and standing there with a hard glare is Mr. Right. Ironic. He’s wrong to the core. Perverted. Twisted. The things he makes me do haunt my dreams, plague my thoughts every second I’m not here reliving them with him.

“Willa, I thought we discussed I wouldn’t see you anymore?”

His words are sharp and firm. We had, in fact, spoke about that. Well…he informed me, and the thought of not having to let him touch me again was a relief—until Milo insisted I return here.

“I know.” I nod, biting the inside of my cheek. His rejection causes a pit to open in my stomach—something I will question my own sanity for later.

“Milo sent me. He’s in trouble and needs money.” The words sound so dirty to my own ears. I want to rush home and scrub my skin until it’s beetroot red.

Smiling tightly, he shakes his head once. “Not my problem, sweetheart.”

“But…” I step forward, desperation in my tone, causing further humiliation. I’d been dropped off here for four years. It became normal, routine. But this, me coming here on my own, on a day when I typically wouldn’t, after he already severed our ties, makes me feel like I’m the one prostituting myself this time.

He holds a hand up, preventing me from moving farther into the apartment. The other hand swills whiskey around a crystal glass. I broke one of them once, and the spanking he inflicted left me unable to sit for over a week.

“Willa, my sweetheart, we agreed we would not see each other anymore—which means the money stops.”

My heartbeat thunders in my ears. How pathetic are you to still be standing here after so much rejection? He doesn’t want me anymore. “I never agreed to see you in the first place,” I snap, and immediately regret it when his eyes narrow on me, pinning me to my spot. “I’m sorry.” I bow my head like I’ve been conditioned to do when I speak out of turn.