Page 6 of Savage Promises

How am I supposed to forget the way he looked at me just moments ago? The way his hands trembled when they touched my skin, like I was something he craved.

How am I supposed to forget the way he kissed me? Like he was claiming something he knew he had no right to? Like I was his.

How am I supposed to forget the way he pulled back, eyes burning, jaw tight, forcing himself to shove me away like I was nothing?

Likewewere nothing.

But his earlier words come crashing back:A Quinlan can never be with a Donnelly.

A bitter laugh claws at my throat, but I swallow it down. My fingers curl into fists in my lap as I force myself to breathe past the ache in my chest. He doesn’t want me. Not enough. Not the way I want him.

I won’t beg. I won’t ask why.

I won’t let him see me break.

“Fine. Have a nice life, Shane.” I get out and slam the car door.

He makes a U-turn and drives off. Probably racing tojoin his brothers or find some other girl whose name isn’t Donnelly.

I only want you...

The bells of St. Agatha’s ring twelve times, and I take a few more seconds until my birthday is officially over. I wanted to kiss Shane Quinlan and I got my wish.

Now... I’m the one who wants to forget.

CHAPTER ONE

Lennox - Six Years Later

“Boss lady. I need a signature,” Mara my bar manager and long-time best friend hollers to me from the stockroom accepting a delivery.

I close my laptop, my mind disconnecting from the email by an influencer who wants to showcase my nightclub next week.

Smiling at every filled cocktail table, every stool occupied, and every customer with a drink in their hand, I saunter through the bar area to find the delivery guy flirting with Mara. I hide my anger about this jerk’s timing. We’re already open. I want my customers to think it takes no effort to look perfect.

The delivery guy stacks cases of rare Irish whiskey, premium vodka, imported tequila, and cases of Dom Pérignon for VIPs.

I sign for the delivery, my eyes narrowed on him. “Deliver this late again, and it will be the last time.”

When he leaves, I question Mara, “Did he ask you out again?”

“Yeah.” She shrugs. “He wanted to buy me a drink.Here. Dumbass. I’m the bartender!” She’s come a long way from that horrible punch she concocted the night of my eighteenth birthday.

I wish that was the worst memory I had from that night.

Not letting old and useless thoughts of Shane Quinlan fester, I make my rounds to all corners of the club. My father’s dive bar, the old Astoria Tavern, with its outdated décor, chipped floors, and peeling walls was poorly managed and bleeding money before I took over. It was a deep stain on the Donnelly name that my father had ahard time owning up to.

Of all the people to step into my corner, Garrett convinced Dad to give me a shot at running it. I hated needing a man to be a mouthpiece, but I got what I wanted. I realized my dream.

For now.

Club Echelon is currently the hottest spot in Astoria. It took a couple of years, but I turned my father’s dive into a flashy nightclub with no rivals in this small city across the river from Manhattan. We’re killing it.I’mkilling it.

I’m the boss. Every bartender, server, and bouncer here answers to me. Every dollar flowing through the bar tonight is because of me.

This is my kingdom, and I, its queen.

Only, this place isn’tlegallymine. The club is my success, butRichardDonnelly’s name is still stamped on the lease, licenses, and certificates of occupancy. My father gets a huge cut every month.

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