Page 274 of Hate Mates

Thirty minutes later and sick of watching Fletch, and now Priest, sucking face with a couple of girls that avoided the cull when Fletch sent the rest away, I go to take a piss.

On my way back, I’m stopped by a voice that has the same effect as fingernails down a chalkboard.

“Scouting for whores again, Mickey?”

Spinning on my heels, I face her. “And just look who I found, Roni.” My lip curls in a snarl as I look her up and down. “No pimp tonight?” I taunt, referencing the bodyguard usually glued to her side.

Her nostrils flare before she breaks into a smile. “Night off.” She steps forward and leans in. “Screwing your mum, or so I hear.”

“Come on,Veronica, you can do better than that. I thought smart words were your bread and butter.” I pause, then add, “No, wait. Lying on your back and spreading your legs is more your style.”

“Fuck you!”

“No thanks. Not if yours was the last cunt on Earth.” I walk away, heart pounding and hands fisting at my sides.

Fucking woman. Body like a fucking goddess and all ruined when she opens her mouth. My mood soured, I stop by and say goodnight to Priest and Fletch before heading home.

Chapter Two

RONI - AGE 20

“Prick,” I mutter as Mickey walks away, ignoring the sting of his words. I use the hurt to fuel my hate for him. He and his bastard of a father deserve everything coming their way.

Daddy gave me the CliffsNotes version of what went down between him and Mickey’s father years ago, but it was enough to birth an inherent hate for the Rawlins family and everything they stand for.

Now, I’m happy to carry the torch while denying my body’s reaction to him. Lust I can deal with. What I can’t deal with is my father’s disappointment.

Pushing my way back through the crowd to the bar, I order a shot of tequila. The barman delivers it with lime and salt but fuck that. I need the burn. He raises a brow when I slam the empty shot glass on the bar.

“Hit me again,” I say as a shiver travels the length of my body. He obliges, but this time I lick the back of my hand, sprinkle salt and down my shot before picking up a lime wedge and sucking the sharp, sour juice into my mouth.

I watch as the barman’s raised brow morphs into a hooded look full of desire for me to be sucking something else. I slow my movements, emphasising each lick and suck before seductively pulling the lime wedge from my mouth. Dropping it to the tray, I make a performance of sucking each finger clean.

“So, you want?—”

I hold up a hand, cutting him off. “Sorry. Not my type,” I say, tossing a twenty on the bar. “Keep the change,” I call over my shoulder as he laughs behind me and I disappear into the crowd.

I spend another hour dancing with Robyn, periodically joined by a guy or two, who quickly disappear when they realise it’ll take more than a bump ‘n’ grind and a few slurred whispers in my ear to get me in bed, before heading home.

Quietly letting myself in, I slip my shoes off and tiptoe to the kitchen. I’ve barely taken two steps when a voice echoes in the silent foyer.

“Veronica, where the fuck have you been?”

I wince, closing my eyes, and take a deep breath before facing Franklin Hart, my father. “Daddy?—”

“You’re not five anymore, Veronica. Cut that doe-eyed daddy shit,” he barks, cutting me off and stepping out of the shadows. “You slipped your security again. Do you have any idea?—”

Emboldened by the alcohol and frustrated, I let my mouth run away with me. “How many enemies you have. How dangerous it is for me, blah, blah? Yes, and yes! But as you so eloquently pointed out, I’m not five anymore,Daddy.”

Grim-faced and jaw ticking, he takes measured steps towards me until he’s towering over my five-foot six frame. The strike when it comes is quick and hard. My head snaps to the side, and the sting blooms out like a drop of ink in water.

“Remember your place,daughter. Go to bed. We’ll talk in the morning.” I flinch as he clasps my head in both hands and presses a kiss to my forehead.

Turning my back on him, I climb the stairs. The second I close my bedroom door behind me, a sob breaks free, and I touch my cheek, feeling the burn of his slap.

Disappointment.

So much for Carl covering for me. At least I know who not to trust in future. I take a minute to feel sorry for myself, then I push off the door, swiping tears from my face. Stripping out of my dress, I stand in front of the mirror in my en suite, tilting my face left then right and assess the damage.

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