It’s not a complete lie, but it’s also nowhere near the truth. I don’t know where Mum is, and there’s no way for her to contact me since Patrick took all my personal belongings.
“So you do have family?”
I look at Lia. “Yeah, kind of,” I say with a shrug, but I don’t elaborate because I can’t.
Callia smiles then. “That’s why we make such a good family here, love,” she says. “Because we’re all a little bit lost. Family doesn’t always have to mean blood or genetics. It can just be the loyalty from those around you.”
Our conversation is interrupted by the other girls walking in. The dancers who will take to the stage offer us a wave, and I’m thankful for the intrusion. As much as I do believe they’re a close-knit group, I can’t tell Lia that I just don’t feel as if I’m part of it.
Because I’m not.
I’m the enemy.
As the night wears on, I serve drinks to the group of men who are in for the bachelor party. There are at least twenty of them. Between Callia and me, they’ve kept us busy. Back and forth with shots and pints of Guinness that they seem to swallow back far too quickly.
“Hey, gorgeous,” one of them calls out when I set the drinks down on the table.
I offer a quick smile, but I don’t engage. One thing Callia taught me was to allow them to shout and catcall all they want, but never to engage. It only makes them more willing to take things further.
“My mate is talking to you,” the other guy to my left says.
Once again, I offer a smile and straighten, hoping to escape, but suddenly, I’m pulled backwards. Hands on my hips tighten, and no matter how much I try to escape, I can’t.
“I said, hey gorgeous,” the guy says as he settles me on his lap. Fear slams into me when he leans in, and the alcohol on his breath makes my stomach turn. I want nothing more than to get away, but the more I fuss, the more he laughs. “I thought girls like you like this shit,” he sneers into my face.
“Please let me go,” I ask, hoping that my calm tone will be enough. It isn’t.
He trails his hand down to my thigh, and as I shut my eyes tight, I pray. I have never been religious. I don’t go to church, haven’t been in a long while. As he reaches between my legs, bile rises to my throat, but then, in the next second, the hand is gone and his groan of agony echoes through my thoughts.
I snap my gaze open and find Sully glaring down at the bastard while I’m being lifted over someone’s shoulder. I can’t tell for a moment who it is, but when he moves, the scent of his cologne invades my senses. Monster.
“Get that fecker out of here before I feckin’ kill him,” he orders and walks towards the back of the club with me over his shoulder.
“Put me down,” I shout, hoping he’ll hear me over the music. I’m taken to one of the private rooms and set on the sofa. “What the hell was that?”
“You were violated,” Monster says. “I have very few rules when it comes to the club, to the dancers, and the staff. They are not to be touched, groped, or even feckin’ looked at the wrong way.”
He’s fuming. I finally have a moment to look at him, and I’ve never seen anyone this angry in my life. Not even my own father.
“I could’ve handled myself.”
“The fuck you could,” he growls, stopping short and leaning in, his face inches from mine. His gaze drops to my mouth for a moment too long before he flicks those dark orbs to mine.
I push up from the sofa and realise it’s a mistake because now our bodies are flush. Every hard dip and peak of Monster’s torso is against mine. But I don’t lower my gaze to take him in. I can’t get distracted by the beauty of this man. He’s bad for me.
“Don’t try to save me. Don’t act as if you care.”
Anger flashes in his eyes. His hand reaches for my face, and he squeezes my cheeks together, making my lips pout. And I don’t miss the flicker of desire that burns in his stare before he looks into my eyes once more.
“If ye live under my roof, you’re my responsibility. I promised Donahue I’d keep ye safe, and I intend on keepin’ my word.”
I can’t respond. He knows I can’t because the corner of his mouth tilts when he watches me attempt to retort. For a long, silent moment, we stand glaring at each other. I’m not his. I do not want to be some possession kept locked up in a glass box. I’m stronger than that, and I will fight for my freedom, even if it means fighting Monster for it.
Monster releases me, then steps back, and I’m thankful at the reprieve of his commanding demeanour. But he’s not far away. He’s still so close I can practically feel his body vibrate with emotion.
“I’ll leave.”
“Like feck you will,” he throws back. “You’ll stay in the house until we find the bastards that did this.”