Page 7 of Scar

“These are exactly what I need,” he says with a grin. He wraps his arm around my shoulders, while I still stand there holding the tray. “Now, I hear that Layton is taking you out. I think that is a fantastic idea. Why don’t you go get changed now and then he can take you out?” my father suggests.

“Eugene, I wouldn’t want to finish work early, especially with everything going on,” Layton says, his lips practically fused to my dad’s ass. I silently pray to any god that would listen, asking them to make me ill, make me throw up right now so I don’t have to go out. I would even take diarrhoea at this point. I’m sure having the uncontrollable shits would put Layton off wanting to take me out.

“Of course not, you’ve worked hard today. You’ve earned an extra break,” my father says with a grin.

Unfortunately, no god appears to be hearing my prayers.

Layton stands and knocks back the last of his vodka. “Go change, Elsie. I will wait for you,” he orders with a smile and a glint in his eye.

My stomach recoils, but I hold it together and force a smile on my lips, nodding my head. I place the cookies on the side table and leave, walking upstairs to my room. After I shut the door, I close my eyes, willing back the tears, the gut wrenching emotions that constantly threaten to escape.

After a moment, I open my eyes and quickly move to my wardrobe, pulling out a simple emerald green dress. Layton said slutty, and I don’t really own anything slutty, but this is as close as it gets. It’s a sweetheart neckline, body con fitted dress, with capped sleeves that stop just above my knees. If I was going on a date with anyone else, I would put more effort in, but I didn’t want to go. I slipped on the dress, leaving my hair down. I don’t bother reapplying my make up. I just add some of my natural lip gloss and spritz some perfume on before finding my heels. Once I’ve chucked them on, I grab my purse, put my cell in it, and head downstairs.

Layton is stood at the bottom of the stairs talking to a few of my father’s men. Their eyes land on me and I shift uncomfortably. Layton turns around, following their gaze and smiles. His eyes roam over my body, making me want to turn away before he takes a step toward me as I reach the bottom step and slips his hand around my waist.

“See, you can look good,” he whispers in my ear. Keeping his arm around me, his hand lowers to my behind and I flinch, wanting to push him off me but I don’t. I don’t push back, and I don’t fight him. It will only make things worse. He parades me past my father’s men, like I’m some fucking prized trophy. I’m just a pawn in his scheme to take over from my father. “Get in,” he orders before walking around the side of his truck. I open the door and climb in. Once in, he turns to me. “I hope what you are wearing underneath is just as appealing as that dress,” he states, heat burning in his eyes.

He drives me to a bar on the other side of town. I am overdressed and feel out of place. People look and stare at me, and I know that is what he wanted. He wanted people to look. He wanted to make me feel awkward because he knows I would hate it. While he loves it, he thrives off the attention. As he guides us to a table, my eyes lock on a group of men in the corner. Rather,it’s their jackets that catches my attention. The Black Hearts MC, Scar’s club. Layton obviously doesn’t notice them. He orders us both a drink, himself a steak, and me a salad. I don’t get a choice, and it would piss him off if I told him otherwise.

The waitress brings over our drinks and I take a sip of the white wine, scrunching up my face. “What wine is this?” I ask.

“A sweet white wine,” he answers.

I hate sweet wine. It reminds me of being a child and trying wine for the first time. “Thank you,” I smile and lie. He nods, happy with my response. His eyes wander over to a table of women to our left, his eyes alight with appreciation. I roll my eyes, although this would be a great distraction for me to go speak to Scar’s club. However, I’m not sure what I would say. One of the women give him a smile and Layton winks at her, loving the attention. I push my chair back and stand. “I’m just going to the bathroom,” I tell him.

“Sure,” he says, not even looking my way. I grab my bag and walk towards the bathroom, right towards the Black Hearts MC.

I try to look at their patches, to see who to speak to. That’s when I spot the President patch. I quickly glance over my shoulder to make sure Layton isn’t looking, to see that he’s busy chatting to the women. As I lightly grab his forearm, feeling powerful muscle underneath, I try not to gasp in fear.

“Not interested,” he growls.

Looking into his eyes, fear prickles along my spine. I open my mouth to speak, but the words don’t come out. His eyes are so cold, so menacing, I’m scared to look away. I’m terrified I’ve made an awful mistake.

“Sc-Scar,” I stutter in a whisper.

His gaze narrows. “What did you fucking say?” he asks, his voice low and threatening.

I swallow, glancing a look over his shoulder to Layton. Seeing him still chatting away, I muster up every ounce of courage. “Ihave seen Scar, but I can’t talk here,” I tell him firmly, although I swear he can hear my knees knocking in terror. I let go of his forearm and continue to walk down the hall past the ladies. I turn a corner to keep out of view. He follows, but so do a couple of others. I look at their patches, and one says VP Spider, and the other Acid. I look at the one called Spider. “You killed my brother,” I blurt out on a whisper, not meaning to voice that thought. It was the wrong thing to say as the President wraps his hand around my throat.

“Your father sent you?” he hisses.

I shake my head no. “No, no. I’m here on a date. If my father knew I was talking to you, he would kill me,” I rush out. My heart is thumping so loudly in my chest, I’m sure they can hear it. I look to Spider. “I hated my brother and I’m glad he’s dead,” I tell him truthfully. Surprise etches his face, but he quickly hides it. I turn my attention back to the one with his hand around my neck. “He’s okay,” I tell him. “They haven’t treated him well, and he’s lost a lot of weight, but I sneak down and bring him food and water when I can.” I pause. “He nearly had the chance to escape just earlier today, but?—”

His grip tightens around my neck, restricting my airway. “What do you mean he had the chance to escape?” he seethes.

“He wouldn’t do it. Said that my father would just come after you all, and your partners and children,” I rasp. His grip loosens, but he still doesn’t remove his hand from my neck. “Whatever you think you have planned, my father knows about it, or he knows something. He was supposed to be away and came back early because of whatever it was,” I rush out. His face remains angry.

“Give me your phone,” Spider states, holding out his hand.

I hand him my bag, and he pulls my phone out, holding to my face to unlock it. He types away, then places it back in my bag. “I’ve put my number in there under the name Jane,” he states.

“Don’t message me. He, he tracks my phone. He has some app or something linked to my phone. He looks at everything I do,” I breathe, panicked. “He will know I’ve added a new number tonight.”

“Then you tell him you met a friend in the fucking toilets. That’s what you women do, right?” he snaps. I’m not sure whether to answer or not, so I just keep my mouth shut. “When you get to see him, call us,” he states firmly before nudging the President. “Ghost, let her go, man,” he suggests.

Ghost slowly releases his grip. “If I find out you are lying to us, I will wrap my hands around your throat again, but this time I won’t let go,” Ghost warns. “If it turns out you’ve actually been helping him, then I will fucking apologise, but as it stands, I fucking hate your cunt of a father and anything or anyone associated with him,” he explains, or at least I think it’s a sort of explanation as to why he’s just pinned me by my throat.

My hand automatically clasps around my throat. “I understand,” I say with a nod. Glancing out the door, I look down the hall. “I have to go, or he will wonder where I am.” I pause, looking at them to see if they need anything else from me.

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