Page 18 of Hateful Union

I need to get things sorted out, like getting shit ready for when I go to New York for my sister’s wedding in a few weeks. Not to mention making calls and checking in on my businesses, especially the drug shipments, they should have arrived by now.

My cell ringsand I glance at it, it’s almost midnight, I’m instantly on alert when I see Christian’s name flashing. “Yeah?” I answer, getting to my feet.

“Boss…” His voice low, I can hear the music blaring in the background. “You’ll never guess who’s just arrived at the club?”

I bite back the urge to tell him to fuck off. “I’m not in the mood for guessing games.”

The fucker laughs, “Raylee Silver walked into the club alone.”

Anger surges through me. Why the hell is she in my club, alone, I might add? Fuck, the woman has a fucking death wish. “I’m on my way, do not let her leave your sight.”

“I'm not stupid. There's no way I’ll let anything happen to her.” He sighs. “Just get your arse here right now. There’s only so many guys I can get to back the fuck off.” He means with a look. “They’re swarming her like bees to honey. Of course, that’ll end as soon as you’re here.”

He’s too fucking smart for his own good. He seems to know what I want, before I even realise it.

.

I shouldn’t be heading towards my front door. I should be keeping my arse on the seat. But I want her. I really do. It's a compulsion. I'm drawn to her in a way I've never been drawn to any other woman before. Even though she’s a Silver.

She's got some mouth on her, and she infuriates me like no other.

But maybe Christian’s right, maybe I do need to fuck her. If I get her out of my system, then I can get on with my plan for revenge.

“I'll be there soon,” I tell him, as I move towards the door, snatching my keys from the table as I do.

Fucking hell. Why is she doing this? Why is she atmyclub, of all places. It makes no sense. Not today of all days.

I'm downstairs and in my car within mere minutes. I’m driving like a bat out of hell. God just the need to see her burns deep inside me. I hate it. I hate how much I want her, how much I need to see her. I don't get it. She shouldn't be an addiction. She is my ultimate revenge.

It takes me twenty minutes to get to the club. When I arrive, the men on the door stand taller, nodding their heads in respect. I walk past the queue of people still waiting to get in and walk straight towards the bar.

I’m seething as soon as I see her. She’s surrounded by men, holding court. Every single one of them hanging off each word she says.

Yet again, she’s wearing red. It’s slinky and short, molded perfectly to her body, and shows off those fucking amazing legs that she has. This woman has to wear red as it matches her fiery spirit.

She's absolutely gorgeous. The woman is a fucking goddess.

The moment she sees me, the air between us crackles, everything fades away. It's just me and her. Those pouty lips along with the way her nose turns up and the dismissive look she gives me makes my dick harden and my pulse race.

She's getting fucked tonight. No doubt about it.

I push my way through the crowds of people. Each step, the tension between us crackles even more. She hasn't taken her eyes off me, staring at me with those golden eyes of hers. They glisten against the club's lighting. The defiance is there, mixed with the anger that’s swirling in them. Yeah, she knows what she's doing. At least I’m not alone in this turbulent feeling.

As soon as I reach her, every man that surrounds her scatters. This is my club, they know who I am, and they know that I’m not someone to mess with. The way I'm feeling right now, I’d take every single one of them on and not even break a sweat.

“What are you doing here?” I growl as soon as I’m within touching distance of her. I reach for her arm and tighten my hand around her wrist. She grabs her drink, not protesting as I pull her along with me.

“I asked you a question,” I snarl at her.

“You did, but I'm not your dog. You do not bark at me, and expect answers. You want to know why I'm here. Ask fucking nicely. I'm not your fucking bitch.”

Jesus. Her and her fucking mouth, can she not, for once, speak like a proper lady?

I take a deep breath, as I lead her towards my office. “Okay,” I say, unsure of how I managed to calm myself this quickly. “Why are you here, Raylee?” I ask once we’re in the office.

She pulls her arm away from me, taking a sip of her drink. Looking the epitome of cool, but thankfully she answers me. “You have answers to the questions I have. You do not like me. I fucking hate you, but you're not a liar. I respect that. That’s the only thing I respect about you. So I'm going to ask you questions. And I'm hoping, fucking praying that you answer them, because I really need them answered.”

I stare at her in shock. At the brutal honesty she has. She wants to ask me questions about fucking what?

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