Page 8 of Vow to Hate You

“Rhyett—”

“No,” he snapped. “You made your bed, now you get to lie in it. Although, I guess it’ll be Damian’s bed you’ll be in, won’t it? Since you’re home, the parents will expect you on his arm like you were supposed to be five years ago.”

I bristled. “You’re an asshole.”

“I’d be an even bigger asshole if I sided with the girl who fucked over my best friend.”

“I was your friend too,” I said hoarsely.

“You were. Then you left.” He tilted his head to the side. “If we were such good friends, why didn’t you ever call?”

I swallowed thickly, knowing he wasn’t going to let me out, no matter what I said. He was siding with Damian. He and Ashton always would.

“Go sit back down,” he repeated gruffly. “I’m watching you, so don’t think you can leave.”

With a frustrated scream, I spun around, walking back to the couch. Char glanced at me in confusion as I fell on the cushion next to her.

I leaned over to talk in her ear. “I’m feeling better, so I decided to stay.”

She grinned, but still had questions in her eyes. “Good. I think they’re about to start another dance.”

I managed to feign excitement until she looked back at the stage. My gaze also went to the men dancing, but I frowned when I didn’t see Damian up there anymore. I scanned the room, hoping to find another exit, but the odds of me getting out of here before Rhyett caught up was next to impossible. He knew this place, and I didn’t.

I slouched on the couch, not paying attention to anyone around me. The men were still dancing, but I didn’t even look at the stage as panic clung to me.

I couldn’t fucking stay here. I’d built a life I wanted, one I loved. Here, I was nothing but a wife, meant to look good on my husband’s arm. I was eighteen when I’d married Damian, and he had promised me he’d never make me live that kind of life. Our marriage wasn’t based on love or feelings. It was beneficial to both of us. On top of it being good for our families.

In our life, marriage was nothing but a contract to expand family fortune. My father always made it clear I would marry someone he chose. After my rebellious streak in my teens, he planned to marry me off as soon as he could. God forbid a woman tried to make it in this life without a man. My father’s prehistoric way of thinking would never let him even consider it, no matter how much I pleaded or argued.

Damian was supposed to be my escape. He didn’t want a proper wife. I didn’t want an arranged marriage. We’d grown up together as friends, and even if there had always been somethinga bit more that lingered between us, I would have been fine acting like his wife while I had the freedom to live how I wanted.

Until I found out he lied. The promises he gave me were as empty as his fucking heart.

When I found a way to leave, I took it. It wasn’t a forever kind of plan, but it had worked great the last few years. I had no intention of ever coming back to play wife to Damian Valentin. I also knew he wasn’t going to be all too gracious since I stole from him.

I shifted on the couch, my mind racing to figure a way out of this. Damian knew I was here, but if my father or his family didn’t know I was back, then there was still a chance I could slip away. All I needed to do was grab my passport from Char’s apartment, then I’d be on the next plane out of this city.

I nearly jumped when someone moved beside me. I glanced up, seeing a masked man standing near the couch. It wasn’t Damian or Ashton, and I frowned, giving him a glare. The night was ruined. As much as this club had me hypnotized at first, the magic was gone now. The guy stared at me for a second before reaching past me, grabbing Char’s arm.

“My turn.” Char giggled as she stood up, letting the man lead her toward the stage.

I kept my eye on her as she sat in a chair in the middle of the platform. It was still hot, but tame compared to what the men were doing with the belts earlier. As the man gave her a lap dance, others were in the crowd, giving women attention. If Damian hadn’t ruined this for me, I’d love this kind of club.

It was impossible to tell how much time passed, and I barely paid attention to the rest of the show. I was pretty sure one woman had an actual orgasm on the stage during one of the songs, but none of it was penetrating through the panic taking hold.

After what felt like forever, the men began disappearing off stage. I was on my feet in a heartbeat, and Char shot me a curious look as we headed out of the room. I was on edge, waiting for Damian or his two friends to stop me from leaving.

“The show was amazing,” Ana gushed as we stepped into the lounge where we’d had drinks. Some women were already going back to the bar for more drinks, but I passed it, hoping Char and her friends would do the same.

Hayley nodded. “It was. Tame compared to last time, though.”

“Tame?” Char choked out, her eyes widening. “That was tame?”

Ana laughed. “Every night is different. No one would want to keep coming if it was the same.”

I was only half-listening, my head on a swivel as we moved toward the escalator. No way my asshole of a husband would let me walk away, but he was nowhere to be seen. My skin prickled, and I had to bite my tongue to keep from hurrying the girls up. I needed to get the hell out of here as soon as I could.

We rode the escalator down the two levels to the parking garage, where it was full of the patrons leaving. Hayley strolled to the locker, taking her time getting the keys out. Char leaned against the car, staring at me.

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