I’ve known Mona for years. She showed up when I was fourteen, drawn to the club like so many women are. Pretty enough, willing enough, and hungry for the attention of dangerous men. She’s slept with most of the brothers at some point, including Ash, Ghost, and Titan.
The thought makes my stomach twist, even though I have no right to be jealous of things that happened before me.
“Mona,” Ash says. His voice carries a warning.
“What?” She pushes off the wall. “Can’t I congratulate the happy couple?”
“You can move,” I say. “We’d like to get past.”
Her smile sharpens. “I bet you would. Must be nice getting exactly what you want just by causing enough chaos.”
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, come on, Bonnie. You ran from one wedding and somehow ended up with an even better deal.” She looks at Ash. “The president himself, forced to marry a stupid child just to clean up her mess. How romantic.”
Ash’s hand tightens on mine. “Watch yourself,” he says quietly.
“Why? It’s true.” Mona’s eyes stay on me. “Everyone knows this marriage is just damage control. Poor Ash, stuck with a spoiled little girl who threw a tantrum instead of doing her duty.”
Rage burns through me. Two weeks of fear and pain and running for my life, reduced to a tantrum. Like I chose any of this or wanted to be traded like livestock to a psychopath.
“Get out of my way,” I tell her.
“Or what? You’ll run away again?” She laughs. “That’s all you’re good at, right? Running and hiding while real women handle?—”
“Mona.” Ash’s voice drops to something dangerous. “Leave. Now.”
She opens her mouth to argue, sees his expression, and thinks better of it. With one last nasty look at me, she saunters past us back toward the party.
I stand frozen in the hallway, her words echoing in my head. Stupid child. Forced to marry. Damage control.
“Ignore her,” Ash says beside me.
“I’m trying.”
“She’s jealous?—”
“I know what she is.” I turn to face him. “Doesn’t make it hurt less.”
He studies my face, then takes my hand. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
I follow him through the clubhouse, up the stairs, down the hall to his room. Our room now, I suppose. The thought feels surreal.
Inside, he closes the door and leans against it. “Talk to me.”
“About what?”
“About what Mona said. About whatever’s going on in your head right now.”
I cross to his window and look out at the compound below. Brothers are still celebrating, completely unaware of the spiral happening in my brain.
“What if she’s right?” I ask quietly.
“She’s not.”
“But what if I am just a mess you had to clean up? What if this marriage crashes after a few months? What if my father gets released and decides he doesn’t want me for you?”
“Stop.” He crosses to me, turns me to face him. “You want to know the honest reason I married you?”
