Page 43 of Unchained

Lola’s eyes go wide, glancing between her friends on either side of her. Oh… these friends don’t know what really goes on at Sterling Ranch.

“I was joking,” I confirm. It’s a lie.

“So, tell us, how is married life going?” Lola asks, stirring her cocktail.

I choke on my drink. “Painful.”

Both Harper and Lola laugh. “He’s grumpy, but deep down, he’s actually funny. Gotta peel back those layers like an onion,” Lola tells me.

“I’m not into peeling onions. Gets under my nails,” I joke, holding up my killer pointed nails.

“Are you planning on staying here for long?” Harper asks.

I shrug in response. “I don’t know. My whole life, I’ve had a plan for everything. This? I’m winging it.”

Glancing down at the martini and back to Harper, I revealed far too much about myself. They don’t need to know that Colten has thrown me off and I don’t have a plan anymore.

“I want to take over my father's…” I pause, clocking their friends watching me. “Business.”

“I love your tattoos!” the brunette girl, I think her name was Delilah, or Daisy, blurts out.

Rubbing my hand over my arm, right over the shark tattoo. “Thank you,” I say.

“Did they hurt?” she asks.

I frown. In comparison to the beatings I've taken, a tattoo is nothing. “No. I have a high pain threshold.”

Lola finishes her drink and hiccups, singing to herself as she sways to the music on her chair. The next minute, she’s up, dragging her two friends onto the dance floor.

“Want to dance?” Harper asks, one hand on her growing bump.

My eyes lock onto Tate’s across the room. He’s nursing a water, next to another huge guy in a booth. It’s crazy; he looks like Jett, yet I couldn’t get a damn word out of him the whole ride here. Jett, on the other hand, I’m not sure I’ve seen him shut up yet.

“I’ll get another round of drinks.”

“You’ve already had ten,” she giggles.

I blink at her. “Six? I’ve counted six.”

She shakes her head. “Ten. And four shots. Hence why Lola is stumbling around the dance floor. She’s going to throw up in about ten minutes.”

Where the hell did the time go? We’ve literally been sat in a bar, chatting about nothing, for hours.

“How long have we been here?”

This isn’t like me. I never lose track of time. Or my surroundings. Nor do I get drunk in public places without my own bodyguards or Dom. I trust no one.

“Four hours, G.”

I frown, grabbing my martini and finishing what's left. Maybe this is what happens when you have fun? Time actually does fly.

“Well, looks like I need lucky eleven,” I say, holding up my empty glass.

“You don’t throw up when you’re drunk, too? I can’t hold both of your hair back,” Harper jokes.

“I don’t throw up. I do sometimes get in fights.”

That makes her laugh. “You and Ace would get on like a house on fire.”