The question probably came from my own history—needing my mum growing up. Still, I knew some parents were far from perfect. Rowan, on the other hand, had been born privileged.
“She’s a pretentious whore,” he said, so matter-of-factly my jaw dropped.
I thought I had issues until I met these three.
“Oh,” I managed.“Sorry.”
He chuckled and set the papers down on the desk.
“Why are you sorry? You didn’t make her fuck countless other men over twenty years.”
Damn.
“We might call you names for fun, Ella,” he continued,“but rest assured—we don’t think of you like that. You’re part of the gang now.”
Until I did something wrong and their perspective warped.
Being part of the gang wasn’t the compliment he thought it was.
???
Alec waited until I fastened my seatbelt before pulling out of the reserved parking spot at Dominion. I found his concern for safety ironic, considering how often he liked to choke me—or where he placed the clamps on my body.
“I heard you met the parents today,” he said, pausing to check the traffic at the car park exit.“What did you think of them?”
Alec was the one person I had to consider multiple outcomes with before speaking. If I lied and said they were nice, he’d call me on it. If I told the truth, he’d find a way to mock me or twist it into guilt.
“Rowan laid it out for me,” I said as we turned onto the busy street.“No family is perfect.”
“Not quite. My family is perfect—and look how I turned out,” he said, side-eyeing me.
A self-aware sociopath? A sadist? I supposed there were exceptions to every rule.
The silence thickened until he spoke again.
“Cat got your tongue?” he said smugly, a smirk tugging at his mouth.
“There isn’t much to say,” I replied.“Each to their own.”
He tapped the console, music filling the car.
“That’s a cop-out,” he said, fingers drumming on the steering wheel.
No. I just wanted him to go easy on my arse when we got home.
Chapter 41
Rowan
When Ella announced that Eric Wardle was on the floor requesting to see me, I dropped a message into the group chat to give them a heads-up. Ever since Nick established Hustle, the man had become a persistent nuisance—clingy, entitled, and far too comfortable pushing boundaries.
Nick:After Sophie and now this dickhead, we should consider turning Hustle into a bookies with extras.
Alec:That’s not a bad idea, but it comes with more paperwork and regulations.
Me:And less profit.
I glanced at Ella, who stood waiting for my response, posture straight, expression neutral.
