Yet here I am with a fucking shock collar around my neck and my husband’s cum leaking out of my bleeding cunt. Once again, he didn’t let me get off. He told me in the hotel suite that I’d have to earn it. Fuck that. I’ve gone twenty-one years without getting off. I can go another twenty-one. Hell, fifty if it takes me that long to kill him.
I wonder what the Lords will do to me if I shoot him in his sleep. Surely, they won’t care. Tyson Crawford was meant for greatness, but he gave it up. For what? I don’t know but I don’t think they’d hold a trial for me if I offed him.
I’m sure I wouldn’t be the first Lady to kill her husband and sure as fuck not the last. But they would hand me down to another—when a Lord dies, his Lady is gifted to another Lord. It’s how they keep us in line. We’ve seen and know too much, so we must stay within the society. Who says he won’t be worse? Is there worse than my dead sister’s ex-boyfriend that killed her? I’m not sure I want to test that theory.
Lifting my face, I look at myself in the mirror and wipe the tears out from underneath my eyes. I never thought I’d be glad that I wasn’t wearing makeup. Otherwise, I’d look far worse. But who the fuck cares what I look like. Right? I’m here because I have to be not because I want to be.
The door opens, and I avert my eyes to hide the fact I’ve been crying.
“Laikyn, right?” a woman asks.
Letting out a slow breath, I lift my head. “Yeah.” At least she didn’t call me Mrs. Crawford.
She comes to stand next to me, looking at herself in the mirror. She’s pretty, dark hair fixed in a high pony, full makeup on with pink glittery eye shadow and matching lipstick. “I’m not sure what he sees in you.” Her brown eyes meet mine in the mirror.
I stiffen at her words. “Excuse me?” I ask, hoping I heard her wrong.
Turning to face me, I do the same, curious as to what she meant by that. “Tyson.” She crosses her arms over her chest and her eyes drop to my ring. “Now your sister … that made sense.”
My heart pounds in my chest. “You knew my sister?” I can’t help but ask.
Instead of answering, she just smirks before she turns and walks out of the bathroom, making me wonder what the fuck that was about. Just one more thing to add to this fucked-up day.
* * *
The night hasn’t gone allthat bad. I spilled a couple of drinks but nothing serious. They just tipped over on my tray when I tilted it too much. I haven’t broken any glass, so that’s a plus. I did however have problems answering customers who asked what we serve.
Alcohol, dumb ass, is what I wanted to reply with, but instead, I smiled brightly, bent over and shoved my tits in their faces and said “I’m new.What do you usually drink?”One guy gave me a twenty and said to surprise him. The other guy got hit in the arm when his girlfriend caught his eyes on my chest.
I’ve never been allowed to party, so unless it’s a rum and Coke or Red Bull and vodka, I don’t know what goes into these mixed drinks. And anyone who asks is stupid. You came to the club; you should know what you like.
I’ve flirted with everyone at my tables. Thankfully, Tyson isn’t a complete idiot and only gave me two tables tonight knowing I didn’t have any experience. But it is a Saturday and it’s been nonstop slammed. He also didn’t put with me another server to train me. He just threw me to the wolves. I feel like it’s a test, and I’m failing.
The lights hurt my eyes, and the blaring music has given me a headache. I don’t know how he chooses to work and live here.
Making my way over to the main bar, I step up to the wait station in the corner and hold up two fingers and call out “Bud Lights.” Beau is pretty cool. He’s been the most helpful. The other servers kind of stay away from me. There’s nine of us here tonight and I think they’re mad because two of them each lost a table. And one girl was already complaining about the schedule change when she demanded to see which section she has tomorrow night.
I briefly glanced at it, and I work every night for the next seven days. I have a feeling that’s how it’ll be from here on out. My husband owns it, so this is where I’ll be. I know he’ll make me hand over my tips to him every night once we close because that’ll just be another way for him to control me. I’ll work for him day and night and have nothing to show for it, except for bad eyes and migraines.Living the life.
“Here you go.” Beau sets the open bottles on my tray, and I thank him.
He gives me a huge smile and winks at me. “You don’t have to thank me every time, Lake.”
I blush when his eyes drop to my chest, and I nod my head in understanding.I’m sorry that I have manners.
Walking over to my table, I turn, and someone runs into the side of me. Beers are knocked over, and I gasp at the feel of the cold liquid splashing my face, neck, and hair.
“Watch where you’re fucking going!” Bethany snaps at me, before throwing her long dark ponytail over her shoulder, pushing her nose up in the air, and storming off.
I could tell from our first encounter in the bathroom that she was going to hate me. She’s made sure to remind me of that every chance she’s had tonight.
Turning back to the station, I set my now wet tray on the surface, and Beau gives me a sympathetic smile. “Here you go.” He passes me a handful of bar napkins, and I blot my face and lick my lips, tasting the nasty beer.
Well, so much for having a good night. Now I need another bath.
FIFTEEN
TYSON
