Page 10 of Monster
“I just want this all to be over,” I whimpered.
“It will be, Angela. He won’t ever bother you again, and if that crooked Giovanni thinks he can keep me silent by going after you, then he has another thing coming. He wants a war, then we will go to war. He isn’t the only one with allies. And with you marrying...”
I interrupted him with a snap. “Marrying?” Gone was my little girl voice and the sweet disposition I was practised at faking. Had he really just said I was marrying someone?
“Yes, Angela, you don’t have a choice now, and I have the perfect man for you. A few years older, true, but I know he’s had his eye on you for a while.”
“No.” I knew without having to ask who he was talking about and I wouldn’t do it. I couldn't. The man in question wasn’t just a few years older, he was closer to my father’s age, with a middle-age gut and… Gritting my teeth, I swore. “No, Daddy, I won’t do it.”
“Yes, you will, Angela. You need a husband now. And he is willing to look past your…well, your lack of judgment.”
“There has to be someone else. Anyone else?” Just not him, I added silently. I didn’t care if he was rich, I didn’t care if he had good standing in the community, or that he would help repair my destroyed reputation. The thought of that pot-bellied, sweaty fingered man climbing on top of me made me feel sick. I liked sex, but I liked it with beautiful people. People I chose.
“There isn’t, Angela. You are going to get married.” My father’s voice held a tone of finality I recognised and I flung my phone across the room. It hit the far wall and smashed, leaving me standing staring at it and panting.
What the hell was I going to do? My father wanted me to marry, and I had to if I had any hope of ever getting my hands on the trust fund my mother’s family had put aside for me. It was the only reason I played his stupid game and pretended to be the good little girl. To get my hands on that money. As soon as I had it, I could disappear. I could forget all about them and their Victorian mindset.
I would be rich and free.
Damn Monster and his angelic smile and skilled tongue. I should have known better than to fall into bed with someone so similar to myself. All my plans, years of scheming, it was all ruined. If I married the old man, then he would never let me divorce him. I would be trapped as his wife just as surely as I was trapped as my father’s daughter. I’d be forced to hide my true self forever.
But I needed to be married. And I was out of options.
Damn Monster. It was all his fault.
8
ANGELA
Pushingmy way into the bar, I straightened my shoulders. I was bone-weary after driving all night and most of the day, and I needed a strong drink. Letting my eyes travel around the room, I frowned for a second before letting the lines of my face smooth out, replacing my scowl with a smile. The place was everything I had been expecting: a dive bar. The kind of place where I usually wouldn’t be seen dead.
But then I wanted to be seen. I wanted every person in that stupid backwater town to see my face and recognise me. The quicker they did, the quicker it would get back to Monster. If I was in luck he might even be in the bar itself.
Monster owed me. And I had the perfect way he could repay me for the damage he had done. My dad wanted me to be married, and legally I had to be in order to get my hands on my trust fund. But nowhere had it mentioned who I had to get married to.
He had started this mess so he owed me. He could get me out of it.
The bar fell silent as I sauntered my way through the tables. I let my hips sway, knowing that I would draw attention, and I wasn’t disappointed. Several pairs of male eyes watched me as I walked past. Their eyes appraised and I knew what they saw.
I had dressed for the occasion, changing in the back of my car from my wrinkled driving clothes and into something more...befitting my reputation. My black jeans were skintight, the red blouse I wore was unbuttoned low and showed off the slopes of my breasts. I looked good. Hell, I had taken enough time choosing my outfit. I wanted to make an impression and if the slack mouthed faces of the men in the bar were anything to go by, I had done that.
Someone by the pool table whistled and I ignored them. I didn’t make eye contact with anyone. There was only one biker who interested me and that was the one who was going to marry me.
Placing my black quilted clutch on the bar, I finally let myself look around.
“Can I help you?”
The woman behind the bar was tiny, her bright purple hair piled high on top of her head in what I was guessing was meant to be a fashionable bun. To me it just looked messy.
“Hmmm.” I smiled sweetly at her as my eyes continued to wander. “A drink, but what?” Idly, I tapped my painted nails against my red lips. “What’s good here?”
She didn’t answer, she just continued to stare at me. Something like bemusement crossed her face. If she recognised me, she didn’t say anything, but I was betting she did. There was something in her eyes that said she knew exactly who I was and who I was looking for.
“Everything is good here.”
I ignored her, turning my attention to the man on my right - late thirties, handsome in a rough kind of way. He frowned under my stare, the bottle tipped to his lips as he side-eyed me.
“May I?” I pointed to the bottle still resting against his bottom lip.
