Page 29 of Shaw

“Luca sent them over.” I hear her move off the bed but ignore her presence.

How dare he? How dare he control every aspect of my life?

“Of course he fucking sent them over. Controlling bastard,” I grumble as I step into each sneaker.

“Do you need help with anything?” I can feel her presence in the doorway but again choose to ignore her, unwilling to discuss the feeling bubbling inside me right now.

“I’m not a fucking invalid! Just because your deranged brother took a cheap shot at me does not make me weak, Emi,” I snipe the words in her direction as I tug on a hoodie, fighting the urge to wince in pain as I do.

“I don’t think you’re weak, Shaw.”

I scoff and shake my head, refusing to acknowledge her, and push past her and make my way downstairs into the obscene foyer. My eyes wildly search around for my car keys.

“Sir, may I help you with anything?” An older man in a butler suit approaches me, making my eyes bug out at how absurd this is.

“Who the fuck are you?”

He disregards my ignorance. “Henry, sir. Would you like assistance with anything?”

This is meant to be my home, yet I’m the stranger in it, and I hate it. I want my life back.

I choke on annoyance and grind my teeth. “I want my fucking car keys.”

“Would sir like a driver to take him somewhere?”

I roll back on my feet in shock.Is this motherfucker deaf?“I said I want my fucking car keys,” I grind out, my voice deadly.

The butler doesn’t bat an eye at my appalling attitude. His mouth moves, but it’s not his voice I hear.

“Your keys are on the dresser, Shaw.” My eyes snap up toward Emi standing at the top of the stairs covered in a robe, and she points toward the glass dresser near the entrance.

I nod and ignore her look of hurt as I scoop up my keys and storm through the door, slamming it for effect on the way out.

I hate them all right now.

TWELVE

SHAW

“So, let me get this straight. You’re pissed that your wife has kissed another man, before you got married?” Mase asks, tipping his beer bottle in my direction. His voice is laced with disdain.

I grunt out a “Yes” and take another swig of my beer, ignoring his disgusted tone.

When I left the house, I called my STORM buddies to come to my rescue. We’re now at Tate’s apartment going over my drama. The guys are amused as hell at my outburst, which just pisses me off even more.

“Jesus. Fuck, you have it bad.” My eyes dart toward Tate in question. “It’s a fucking kiss, man. Before she married you. Jesus, Mase has to put up with his wife fucking another man.” He shrugs nonchalantly like the bastard he is, taking no regard for anyone else’s feelings, but I noticed the flinch Mase gave when Tate called out his wife’s indiscretions.

“Leave fucking Tara out of this, you dumb shit.” Owen kicks Tate’s feet off the coffee table.

Tate’s lips tighten on a wince as he opens his mouth. “Sorry, man.”

Mase brushes a hand through his hair. “All good. She fucked up. Takes some getting over.”

“Or under,” Reed dryly adds.

“You guys doing okay?” I ask, knowing I’m not the only one with problems. Tara might not be our number one fan, but Mase is married to her, so the least we can do is try and be supportive of his choice to stay with her.

He lifts a shoulder on a shrug and takes another swig of his beer. “Kinda.”

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