Page 14 of Choices

Nudging myself through the throngs of bodies, I make my way to where I last saw Nicolas and look around, not finding him anywhere.

Fuck.

CHAPTER 6

RULES

KITTY

As soon as I’m far enough away, I allow the tears to pave a path down my cheeks. Not sad tears, these are angry and raw. A bottomless well of heartbreak settles over me. I can’t believe this is how things are between us. I don’t think I can see him daily knowing I’m not enough. What happens when he starts taking club sluts back to his room and I have to hear the girls giggling to each other about how good of a fuck he is?

I’d rather stick knives in my ears.

Why did I allow this to happen? I got too invested in the belief this was heading somewhere. That it was real. Fuck my stupid heart.

I make my way through the club in a haze, finding myself at my dad’s office, trying to remember if Cutter said Callan was back here. I place my ear to the door to listen for voices and almost fall through when it gives way. Claire fills the space, her eyes wide, her lipstick-smeared lips popping open in surprise. She looks like a sex doll. My stomach turns. She’s been my dad’s favorite girl for quite some time. Even made her exclusive. Hecan still fuck who he likes but only his dick she can have. Seems fair. Not. It’s gross.

That Cutter uses me as a fuck hole, picking me up and putting me down as he pleases, shouldn’t be surprising. Not when my own dad treats women like cum dumpsters.

“Hey, Kitty cat.”

Barf.

Everyone knows I was given the nickname Kitty because I always clean up at the card table. Nothing to do with cats, kittens, or pussies.

“Is Callan in there?” I don’t know why I’m asking. Obviously he won’t be if she is, but I need something to fill the awkwardness. She’s only a couple years older than me and tried befriending me at one point. No thanks. I don’t need to sit around listening to her man problems—not when that man is my father.

She looks back in the room to check if Callan’s in there. Callan, over six-feet tall and built like a Hemsworth, you’d know if he was in the twenty-by-thirty room.

Way to go, Dad. Snagged a real catch.

“No, sorry. Have you tried his room?”

Thanks, genius.

“I’m heading there next.” A pang of guilt twinges in my gut for my mocking thoughts. It’s not her fault my dad is a pervert and I’m full of anger and frustration. All club sluts aim for the most powerful brothers, hoping to be upgraded to ol’ lady. Little did Claire know, no one would take that spot from my mom. Even if she never stepped foot in this club again or took dad back, Mom was his ol’ lady, forever and always.

“Claire, who the fuck are you talking to?” His gruff voice fills me with warmth and familiarity. He’s a pig to Claire, but I adore the asshole.

“Oh, it’s Kitty. She’s looking for Callan.”

“Well, let her in. You’re not the fucking gatekeeper of my office, bitch.”

Her giggle is a nervous flurry that tinges on her cheeks. “Of course. Sorry.” She widens the door and tucks her long blonde hair behind her ear. It’s almost the exact color of mine. I make a mental note to change that as soon as possible.

Casually entering his office, I make a conscious effort not to touch any surface they could have fucked on. A shudder rattles my bones.

“Hello, darlin’. Where have you been all day? Tim said something about a tattoo. I told him he must be mistaken.” He leans his ass against his desk, squeezing a ball in his fist. Not that he’ll admit it or get a diagnosis, but the man has arthritis in his fingers. They swell and get stiff. Some bumps appeared on his joints about a year ago, but he refuses to go to the doctor or admit those bumps hadn’t been there his whole life. “Kitty, tell me you didn’t get a tattoo at some street parlor.”

“Actually.” I clench my teeth, flashing him the pearly whites. He doesn’t speak, just stares at me with an icy glare. If he were anyone else, I’d shit my pants and run for the door. But he isn’t. Even if I covered myself head-to-toe in tattoos, as long as it made me happy, he’d get over it.

That’s what hurts so much about Cutter.

If he let me speak to my dad, tell him how much I love Cutter and want to be with him, things would be okay. Callan might be butthurt for a while, but he’d get over it. It makes me wonder if he’s using them as an excuse to kick me to the curb. The insecure, paranoid feeling is toxic, choking me from within. I can taste the ash on my tongue. That man is taking up too much of my head space.

I lift my shirt and peel back the saran wrap Wynona put over the two aces inked on my ribcage. Dad sits back in his chair, making it creak with the movement. “It’s super cute,”Claire declares, walking over to my dad, putting an arm over his shoulder.

“Aren’t we done?” he grunts, cutting his gaze to hers. I wince, hating the humiliation on her behalf. Why does he have to be a dick? How would he feel if someone treated me like a slab of disposable meat?Cutter does precisely that.

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