Page 30 of Wild Side
I don’t move, though. Instead of following behind them, I sink down in the chair that I was sitting in a few moments ago with Posey and Dakota. If I walk out of this kitchen, I don’t know what I’m going to walk into. I don’t know what Maverick is going to be doing… or who he’ll be doing it with.
I have no claim on him. He can do whatever he wants, especially in here. My body trembles, and my stomach rolls as I try not to think of all the things he could be doing out there. When I hear music being turned up slowly…
I know it’s starting.
The nightly ritual of partying, sex, and everything that goes on I don’t know about, because I honestly don’t know much. The few parties I’ve witnessed were from a distance, except when I met Maverick. He brought me into the clubhouse, and that was the first time I saw it up close and personal.
It was everything Sable said it was and more. More flesh, more sex, more drugs, more booze. I don’t know if I should be thankful she shielded me from things or if I should be upset about it, because when I did encounter it, I was shocked. I still am, to be honest.
I knew my father wasn’t a saint. I knew a lot of things. I knew about clubwhores, about the drugs and runs, about drinking, but what I didn’t know were the details, like what people looked like naked. I didn’t think I'd ever need to know that.
I’m not sure how long I stay in the kitchen, but it’s long enough that the music volume has risen to the point where I can feel the bass flowing through my body. Pressing my lips together, I place my palms on the tabletop.
It’s warm and smooth, but the chair is uncomfortable, and I’m tired. I walk over to my purse that’s sitting on the countertop, reach for my keys, and let out a heavy sigh when I realize they’re in Maverick’s pocket.
He drove me here.
He wants me here, but why?
Hitching my purse over my shoulder, I walk out of the kitchen and into the bar. There are people all around, men in cuts and women wearing either nothing or close to nothing. Dakota and Posey are nowhere to be seen, likely tucked into bed at home the way I always was when these things were happening at Rivara.
I try not to look at the people doing the things they’re doing. I don’t judge them for their lives or the way they want to live them. It’s not my business. I know everyone here is doing what they want, living their lives on their own terms, but it’s not for me.
I’m not sure what I was thinking coming here, agreeing to stay here. I should have stayed at the hotel even under the threat of my father coming. I was so punch drunk by Maverick, I would have done just about anything he asked.
Not anymore, though.
Not like this.
I move along the dark wall, past all the people partying. I know I can’t leave out the front door I came in. Too many people would see me. So I slide along the wall, moving toward a hallway that seems like a good place to slip down.
So that’s what I do. I walk down the hallway, trying not to look too closely at what’s happening in the bar, mainly because I don’t know what I’m going to see, and I don’t want to see Maverick doing anything. Call me delusional, but I’m going to avoid being hurt at all costs right now. No matter what that means.
Maybe tomorrow, I’ll feel stronger.
When I find the back door, I slip out and suck in a deep breath, closing my eyes as I hold it for a moment. The cool air hits me, and I let it out slowly as I open my eyes. Leaning against the concrete wall of the building, I stare into the darkness.
Lost.
MAVERICK
“You knocked up some bitch you don’t even know, and to make shit worse, she’s the daughter of a president, so now you’re stuck with her ass for life,” Goose growls.
I don’t know how the fuck my brother thinks he can talk to me this way, but here he is, talking to me this way. I want to tell him to fuck right off, but I don’t. Lifting my hand, I run my fingers through my hair.
“I did what I did, she’s pregnant, and it’s my kid. I’m not sure what the fuck you want me to say.”
“What are your plans, then?” he snaps.
The anger that radiates off him is unmatched by anything he’s shown me before. I know he’s angry. I’ve changed the whole trajectory of my life without his involvement. I shifted everything without his consent or knowledge, when we’ve always done everything together.
Every. Single. Thing.
No doubt he feels abandoned, because I know I would, too.
“Nothing changes the fact that you’re my brother,” I say.
He snorts, rolling his eyes to the ceiling before he brings them back to meet my own. He takes a step toward me, stopping when he’s just a few inches away. I watch as he dips his chin, his eyes focusing on mine.
