Page 1 of Please Hate Me

Prologue

Mason

I have always felt most at home under the calm of night. The dull glow of the frigid moon illuminates me, cleansing my soul. Endless stars speak softly, each one offering a different perspective on the vastness of the universe. Owls sing, crickets chirp, and humans are supposed to be asleep. These small wonders are best enjoyed alone, but on that fateful night, I was surrounded by drunk strangers and loud music.

I gazed out over the crowd, overwhelmed by the carefully contained chaos. A huge mosh pit raged in front of the stage, full of fanatics infected by the rock melodies bleeding forth from enormous speakers. But while they all danced as if they’d never have the chance again, I sat at my high-top table, staring at the night sky.

I desperately wanted to get out of there, but running from a concert wasn’t very fitting of my carefully cultivated public persona. Besides, my dad was holding me captive in VIP, being watched byhisbodyguards to make sure I didn’t run. He didn’tcare about my safety, of course; that level of concern would require him to act like a father.

No, all he cared about was his image.

I was a rock star’s daughter, and according to him, I needed to act like it. Attend his concerts whenever he and I just so happened to be in the same town, get drunk, sleep with a random dude, and raise a little hell. He wanted my life to mirror his, including my choice of career... But I’d rather be at my flat, reading a book or watching the moon from the comfort of my bedroom window. Anyone whoreallyknew me could tell you that.

Then again, I wasn’t in the habit of letting people get that close to me. Not anymore.

As the pulsating beat of the music resonated in my chest, the enthusiasm of the crowd rubbed me raw. Their energy was contagious, infectious even, but it only reminded me how out of place I felt.

I turned my attention from the floor seats to the bustling VIP area around me, hoping to find a way out of here. If I hopped over the railing in front of my table, I’d fall about six feet and end up in the general admission area. I’d probably break my leg on the way down, so that wasn’t much of an option. If I went left, I’d encounter a beautiful girl with a septum ring and a snake tattoo. Exactly my type. I’d have loved to get her phone number, but I could already see myself tripping over my words and making an ass of myself.

It was better to spare myself the embarrassment.

But if I wanted to avoid her, I’d have to go through the bachelorette party to my right. At least one of them would recognize me, guaranteed. I’d end up on their Instagram stories, and they’d pressure me to stay longer than necessary. Then I’d have to politely explain that I never wanted to talk to any of them again.

And that would be a headache.

I twisted my back to examine the space directly behind me. Past a few more rows of tables lay the private VIP bar—a long, white stretch of counter flanked on either side by my father’s personal goons. Tonight, they posed as bouncers, but their real job was to keep an eye on me. No doubt they’d been instructed not to let me leave before the show was over. But they’d probably look the other way if I walked out on the arm of a one-night stand. So, I scanned the bar once more, this time hoping to find someone to assist me in my exit scheme.

And that’s when I saw him: an enormous man wearing a ten-gallon hat and cowboy boots. Country guys weren’t usually my type, but I was a sucker for tall men... And this guy had to be almost seven feet. He turned away from the bar, a beer in his hand and a smile on his face, and then his gaze met mine.

Our eyes held for a moment, and I could sense a spark of curiosity. Something was intriguing about him, different from the usual crowd surrounding me. With a silent nod, he approached my table, his confident stride cutting through the sea of metal tables and chairs.

His warm smile widened as he approached, and I swore I saw a dimple under his facial hair.

“Mind if I join you?”

His voice was impossibly deep, radiating with the charm of a southern gentleman.

“Be my guest.” I gestured to the empty chair across from me.

He blinked twice, taken aback by my reaction.

“Sorry… I wasn’t expectin’ to hear English.”

“Then why’d you speak it first?” I tilted my head, a sly smile twisting at my lips.

“Force’a habit.”

He settled into the chair, his broad frame commanding attention even in the dimly lit venue. Excited whispers rose fromthe bachelorette party as some of the girls took notice of my new date. Hopefully they’d keep their distance— I wasn’t nearly attractive enough to keep this guy’s attention if one of them decided to approach.

With the man now closer, I could see his features more clearly. His amber eyes were deep and soulful, and the stage lights flashing across his cheeks revealed a smattering of freckles. He had a strong jawline framed by a short ginger beard, and few matching curls had escaped from the worn cowboy hat that sat atop his head. His midsection looked rather soft, but his arms were thick with muscles that rippled with every movement.

In short, he was coming home with me tonight. I’d make sure of it.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing all alone?” he questioned, taking a sip of his beer.

‘Pretty’ was hardly a word I’d use to describe myself, but that wasn’t a conversation for a stranger. Plus, if I argued with him, I might lose my ticket out of here.

“Concerts aren’t really my thing,” I admitted.

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