8
Jayce
I look across the candle-lit table to Miley, who looks so fucking perfect with the soft orange light illuminating her features. The idea of that fucking scumbag so much as talking to her has my blood boiling. I’m ready to go rampage through the club, shaking down my bouncers and staff until I find which incompetent idiot was responsible for letting him into the club. One thing’s for sure though, if I thought I was going overboard in my preparations to keep him out of here before, I’m about to set a new fucking bar.
“Wait here,” I say, starting to slide out of the booth to stand.
Miley’s arm snaps across the table, gripping my wrist. “Please,” she says in the smallest, most fragile voice. “Please don’t go.”
I sit back down, fighting every instinct in my body that has me ready to rip Cade’s head off. “I might still be able to catch him.”
“And then what?” she asks.
“Then I’ll teach him what happens when he comes near you,” I say.
“Like last time? You could’ve killed him in my apartment, and he still came back. Jayce… Kyle has been acting like an enforcer for me my whole life. Once a guy mistreats me, he shows up and kicks his ass. You know how much that has helped me avoid getting treated like shit from the next guy that comes along? None.”
“So I’m just supposed to sit by while this ex keeps showing up and harassing you? Fuck that.”
“No,” she says, pinching the bridge of her nose and hesitating a long time before she speaks again. “My dad never treated me right… not even close. And every time I tried to fight back it only got worse. So I learned a long time ago the best way to make it stop is just… play dead.”
I shake my head. “No,” he says. “I refuse to accept that. You don’t deserve to have to cower when this fucker comes around. You deserve to be free of that shit, and so help me God, if he makes the mistake of showing his face when I’m around, he’s done.”
“It’s not about whether you accept it or not,” she snaps. “It’s about what I want.”
My lips twitch at the sound of her raising her voice to me. “Be careful how you talk to me,” I warn.
“Or what?” she asks defiantly. “Are you going to hit me too? Slap me around? Show your true colors?”
I grit my teeth. “Don’t,” I say.
“Don’t what? Don’t make you mad, because then I’ll see what kind of man you really are?”
“No,” I say, forcing myself to calm down. “Don’t push me away when you need me most.”
She makes an annoyed sound and gets up like she’s about to leave. I get out of my side of the booth and cut her off, forcing her back into the booth. She struggles against me briefly, swinging her hands wildly and trying to free herself, but I pull her in tight, forcing her to accept my embrace as I hug her to my chest. “Don’t push me away,” I whisper, stroking her back as her hands slowly wrap around my back and she digs her fingers into me, shaking with sobs. “Let me look out for you, princess. I’ll keep you safe. I’ll protect you.”
After I’ve dropped Miley back off at her apartment for the night, I decide to do a little research. I know she wanted me to let it be, but I also know I won’t be able to sleep as long as this fucker is out there, just looking for his chance to harass her again.
Finding his address isn’t hard, because all members of the club have to submit payment information, including their billing address. He lives about five blocks from Miley, which is about a thousand blocks too close for my liking. I park outside his place, straighten my jacket, and walk into the lobby of the apartment complex. It’s a nice place, and probably costs almost twenty grand a month, if my guess is any good.
His apartment is on the second floor, last one at the end of the hall. I knock a few times and wait. I want nothing more than to deck him again, maybe harder this time so he doesn’t get back up, but that’s not what I came here for.
When the door swings open, Cade is squinting at me through bleary, drunken eyes. His hair is a mess and his tie is halfway undone and his shirt is untucked. From the looks of it, he came straight home to drown himself in some booze after he fucked with Miley at the club.
“Mind if I come in?” I ask stonily.
He makes a dismissive sound and tries to slam the door, but I plant a firm palm on the door, holding it open, even as he struggles to force it closed. He eventually realizes it’s useless and sighs dramatically. “The fuck do you want from me? Wanna know how she liked it in the sack? Or maybe--”
“It would be smart if you stopped there,” I say through clenched teeth. “I told myself I wasn’t going to fuck you up tonight, but I only have so much patience, asshole.”
Cade considers me, probably replaying the moment that left him with the swollen nose and dark bruise he still wears on his face. “What?” he asks petulantly.
“I’m giving you one last warning. If it was up to me, your warning would be the beating I want to give you, but you’re getting a warning instead.”
He raises his eyebrows. “That’s supposed to scare me?”
“No, dumbass,” I say. “It’s supposed to make it painfully obvious that you need to fuck off.” I lean forward so I’m close enough to smell the stink of his breath. “If I hear about you harassing Miley again, I’ll come back, and it’s not going to be for a warning. Understand me?”
He licks his lips, taking me in from head to toe, as if he’s trying to decide if he really should take my threat seriously. “Whatever, man. She’s not worth my time anyway.”
He slams the door on me.
I let out a long breath. Fuck. Not hitting him might have been the single greatest act of love in the history of mankind, because if I wasn’t sure I was falling for Miley, I would’ve killed that asshole. But every time I think about her my pulse races and I can’t get my mind off the next time I’ll see her and the things I can’t wait to do to her.
I already know exactly what I’m doing to her tomorrow night, though, whether she does or not. I’m taking her to a party at my house, but she’s not going to see much of the party. I’ll be too excited to show her the surprise I have waiting upstairs.
9
Miley
“Wow,” I say.
Jayce pulls his car to a stop at the top of a relatively steep hill, where a sprawling mansion sits. The huge, circular driveway is choked with luxury cars and glamorous couples who look filthy rich even from a distance. Every woman glimmers with ridiculously huge diamond jewelry and designer dresses. The men are distinguished, young, rugged, handsome, and just about every combination of attractive I could imagine. It makes me realize just how unbelievably hot Jayce is though, because even these men can’t compete with him.
I wait in my seat as he walks around to the passenger side and gets the door for me. When he takes my hand and helps me out, I feel like a princess being escorted to a ball by a ruggedly handsome prince.
“Do you like it?” he asks. He tosses his keys to a valet who hops in and goes to move the car out of the main driveway.
“The party?” I ask.
“The house,” he says.
“Oh. Yes. It’s breathtaking.”
He nods. “It’s one of my favorite properties, though my little cabin in the woods still blows it out of the water.”
I can’t help bulging my eyes a little at him. “This is your house? I know your club is nice, but I didn’t think--”
He chuckles. “I’ve been fortunate. Some good investments, some wild risks… You’d be surprised how fast it can add up. You know the strange thing?” he asks. “You spend all this time thinking it’ll feel a certain way, like if you only had enough money, then you could really be happy. But all the money I made only made me feel lonelier.” He shakes his head, laughing a little at himself. “Pretty pathetic, I guess. I throw these crazy parties just so I don’t have to come home to a huge, empty reminder of how far I’ve come but how little it means.”
“I can’t imagine you being lonely,” I
say carefully. “I mean, a guy like you doesn’t exactly fly under the radar, especially not to women. There’s probably not a woman in the entire city who wouldn’t kill to have a night with you.” I hate what I’m doing, but I can’t stop myself. Even though I believe what I’m saying, some insecure part of me is wanting him to tell me otherwise. I want to know he’s not a playboy who is fast and loose with relationships, that I’m not just the next target in a long line of conquests for him.
“Even if that were true,” he says as we walk together toward the main entrance. “If someone tried to give you ten thousand spoons and all you needed was a knife, you’d still have a problem.”
I stop dead in my tracks, looking at him in disbelief. “Did you just use a quote from an Alanis Morissette song un-ironically?”
“No,” he says, failing to hold back a smirk. “I think it was ironic.”
I clap a hand to my forehead, bursting with laughter. “Oh my God. Please tell me you didn’t just set me up for that on purpose.”
“I wouldn’t lie to you,” he says.
I shake my head in disbelief. “Are you sure you don’t have kids from a previous relationship? Because that was dangerously close to a dad joke.”
He grins, but it’s half-hearted. “No. I’m not interested in having kids.”
“I see,” I say, clearing my throat. A thick silence hangs between us as we walk inside and are bombarded with loud music and the sight of hundreds of people dancing, laughing, talking, and drinking.
My stomach decides to send another nervous cramp my way right at that moment, as if to remind me that I could possibly be carrying his baby. I would’ve thought with everything he has said to me that the idea of a baby would actually excite him. A silly part of me was even starting to fantasize about what it would be like if I really was carrying his child. How it would force me to overcome my fear that I’m destined to pick the wrong guy, because a baby would take the choice out of my hands--like the cosmos putting a big neon arrow over his head for me. Now my fantasy seems more like a nightmare. At best he’d want nothing to do with it. At worst, there’s the possibility that he might try to talk me into an abortion, which I would never agree to.
Even if I’m not pregnant, that single statement feels like it cuts through me to my foundation: He doesn’t want kids. If I really decide he’s the right guy, it would mean I could never have the family I’ve always wanted.
I’m about to ask him more when a tall, strikingly handsome man and a beautiful woman approach us at the door. The man holds a glass of amber liquor casually as he approaches, and the woman at his side wears an eye-catching necklace with a loop, almost like a collar.
“Jayce!” says the man warmly. “Thank God you finally cut off that man-bun. I like this better,” he says, reaching for Jayce’s hair, but Jayce slaps his hand away with a grin.
“Miley,” says Jayce. “This is my brother, Leo, and hiswife, Lysa.”
“It’s nice to meet you I say,” reaching to shake their hands. Now that he says it, I can see the family resemblance in Leo. I can also picture this mountain of a man intimidating Jayce’s would-be bullies when they were younger.
“Be careful with this family,” says Lysa, who shakes my hand and flashes me an open, friendly smile. “They’ll suck you in and never let go.”
Leo pulls her closer, as if to confirm her statement. She grins up at him. The way she looks at him makes my heart melt. I’ve seen so many couples who act like strangers, enemies, or maybe the worst--like business partners. The way they look at each other erases any possibility of that. I feel a deep longing to have that kind of bond with someone, too.
I’m not kidding myself, though. Right now, I have a deep longing to have that kind of bond with a very particular someone--a someone who makes terrible dad jokes, has a soft side, and shows a command over my body like nothing I ever could’ve imagined. Someone who doesn’t want kids.
“Is that such a bad thing?” Jayce asks. His fingers splay across my back and he pulls me just a little closer.
“Maybe if it’s you doing the pulling,” Leo says with a grin.
Jayce tenses. “Don’t make me show off to my girlfriend by kicking your ass.”
“Like the last time you tried? I think I remember that ending with me holding you in a headlock.”
Jayce grins. “You were still trying to woo Lysa. I just didn’t want to embarrass you. I could’ve flipped you at least three times.”
“Oh?” Leo laughs, stripping off his jacket and tossingit on a nearby chair.
Jayce takes his own off and sets his jacket aside.
I frown in confusion as the two men squat into athletic poses, hands out wide like they are about to wrestle.
Lysa nods for me to come with her toward the bar. I follow her, glancing back over my shoulder as Jayce and Leo collide and start grunting, taking turns trying to flip each other to the ground while a handful of people gather to watch and cheer them on.
“It’s part of the package,” Lysa shrugs. “Unfortunately, if you want to land yourself a guy like one of the Carlyles, you have to deal with occasional bouts of over-the-top masculine displays.”
There’s a loud cheer as Jayce manages to pin Leo on his back and starts trying to get some kind of grip on Leo’s arm.
“You sure this is normal?” I ask, unable to stop watching the spectacle.
“These two wrestled like monkeys the first time Leo brought me to a party, too. I think it’s just how they bond. Maybe in their minds it’s like a macho handshake.”
Jayce pulls his arm back like he’s about to punch Leo while he sits on his stomach, but Leo twists at the last second, using his hips to throw Jayce to the ground and climb on top of him.
I flinch back. “Oh my God. They’re going to kill each other.”
“They’ll be fine. Look. I saw the way Jayce was watching you. He’s serious about you, you know. Guys can’t fake that look.”
“You were probably just imagining it,” I say. “We’ve only known each other a couple days.”
Lysa’s smile broadens. “You’d be surprised what kind of feelings can form in a couple days.”
“Was it like that with you and Leo?”
Lysa makes an amused face. “Something like that, yeah.”
The small crowd groans in disappointment, drawing my eyes back to the fight. Jayce and Leo are dusting each other off and laughing about something as they walk toward us.
“Who won?” Lysa asks.
Both men point to themselves at the same time, drawing a laugh from Lysa and I.
“Well, as good as it is to see you,” Jayce says to Leo, “I want to give Miley the grand tour of the upstairs.”
Leo and Lysa exchange a knowing look that makes me equal parts nervous and excited. I blush, waving goodbye to them sheepishly before Jayce drags me away.
“Do you seriously just brawl with him every time you guys run into each other?” I ask.
Jayce scoffs. “No. Maybe half of the time at most. We’re not barbarians,” he adds with no hint of self-awareness.
I smile to myself, clinging a little tighter to his arm. The side of Jayce I met that first night in the club was all sexuality. Every movement, action, and word seemed to resonate with my pulse, driving me closer and closer to some kind of uncontrollable frenzy. I had trouble picturing anything else from him. I couldn’t imagine what breakfast would’ve been like--I mean, was he going to just pounce across the table and screw me whenever the need rose up? Would we be able to talk about our day? Watch a show together in the evening?
I didn’t know, but I thought I did. Now I’ve seen there’s more to him. Yes, the sexual energy is never far below the surface, but ever since he told me about his childhood it feels like I have this kind of connection that goes deeper than the night we shared. He understands my past because he lived his own version of it.
Maybe I never realized how important that was because I was always dating the bully, not the bullied. Even though I d
oubt anyone would be dumb enough to try to bully Jayce now, he still remembers what it was like, and that makes him different.
He leads me through the busy room until we reach a staircase that winds up to an extremely high second story. The balcony overlooking the downstairs area is far less crowded, and by the time he takes me to a hallway near the back, we’re already alone except for the thump of music and fading sound of laughter.
Every step we take into the hallway makes the party grow quieter and quieter, until the near-silence is almost eerie.
“I thought you were going to give me a tour,” I say when we stop outside a large set of doors at the end of the hallway. “This looks like a bedroom.” Even though I might sound cross with him, the truth is my heart is pounding out of control. I’ve thought about that night he took me in the club so many times now, about how sweet it felt to surrender to him. Only now, I can’t help thinking back to what he said about not wanting kids.
If I knew I could never have kids, would I still be happy?
I don’t have time to think about it, because Jayce answers my question about the tour by inserting a key into one of the doors and then swinging it open. My eyebrows climb my forehead as I take in what looks like a private BDSM club in his house.
There’s a sleek, modern lounge area decorated in a way that feels warm and sensual--from the deep red fabrics to the polished wood of the full bar. The room is circular with doors in every direction.
“I thought some day I might desire a private place to enjoy my submissive, if I ever found her.”
I look at him from the corner of my eyes. “Have you?” I ask.
“I have,” he says. “But she’s taking her sweet time realizing it.”
I look down. “I feel something, Jayce. I really do. I just have so many doubts still. Like all this fear is clogging my head until I can’t think straight.”
“Then don’t think,” he says. “Come here. I want to show you a place where you can let your mind rest--well, sort of,” he adds with a mischievous grin that makes me nervous.
Knocked Up and Punished Page 8
