by Amanda Boone
As the phone on her desk beeped, she picked it up and listened intently to what was being said on the other end. “Ms. White will see you now,” the receptionist said as she placed the phone back on its receiver. She stood and gestured for Chelsea to follow her down a wide hallway lined with glass offices. Stopping at the very end of the hall, the receptionist opened a door to a large office space that was impeccably decorated.
“Good morning, darling,” an elegant woman said from across her huge desk.
“Good morning, Miss White.” Chelsea extended her hand to shake hers, but she showed no interest.
“Chelsea, was it?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Please, just call me Jessica.” Although everything she was saying was nice, she had a rude, fake tone in her voice that put Chelsea instantly on edge.
“Thank you, Jessica, for meeting with me. I really appreciate your time. I have been sending stories in to y’all for years now. This really is a dream—” Before she could finish, Jessica interrupted her with a mocking tone.
“Y’all? Where are you from, sweetie?”
“Kansas.”
“Ah. I assumed the Midwest or the South but couldn’t place the accent.” Jessica strolled around her desk confidently and sat on the edge of it. “He did always like the new innocent ones.”
“Excuse me?” Chelsea asked in confusion.
“I was new to town when we met too, you know? Can I be honest with you about something? Girl to girl?”
Trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach, she said, “Okay.”
“He’s using you.”
Chelsea thought she might throw up.
“I mean, don’t get me wrong.” Jessica laughed. “He’s a great guy. He just knows how to get what he wants by giving you what you want. It’s classic Ben.”
Swallowing down the bile that rose in her throat, Chelsea quickly moved from her chair toward the door. “Thank you for your time.” She barely made it to the street before the sobs overtook her. She couldn’t believe she had been so stupid to think that this woman actually cared to see her work. All she cared about was scaring her away from Ben. Could the things Jessica said about Ben really be true? She couldn’t believe that she had allowed herself to be used yet again.
*
Ben had to knock several times on the door before it slowly creaked open and Taylor stuck her head out. “Go away!” she growled.
“What?”
“She doesn’t want to see you.”
“Taylor, what is going on?” he asked in utter confusion.
“You know what!”
“What is going on? Is she okay?” Ben didn’t wait for her to answer before he pushed his way into their apartment.
“Hey!” Taylor yelled, and she tried her best to push back against his force. Eventually she gave up and allowed him to enter. “I’m sorry,” she said to Chelsea, who was sitting on the couch with a bottle of wine. “I tried to keep him out. Do you want me to call the police?”
“No. It’s okay.” Chelsea stood up and turned to face him.
Seeing her bloodshot and puffy eyes made his stomach drop. “Chelsea, can you please tell me what is going on? Are you okay? I’ve been trying to call you all day.”
“Why don’t you ask Jessica how I am?” She spat the words like fire off her tongue, fueled by the wine running through her veins. Her head felt heavy, her judgement clouded.
“You didn’t get the job?” Ben asked, sympathy heavy in his voice.
Chelsea let out a forced laugh and took another sip of wine. “Oh, no. But don’t worry, I wasn’t expecting to anyway.” She tried her hardest to make it sound light and casual even though she had been crying about it all day.
“Then why are you upset?”
“Because Jessica shed a little more light on who you are. She let me in on your little game you play with girls who are new to the city. Well, I won’t be a pawn in your game! I’m not that type of girl. I can’t believe I was so stupid to fall for all your lines!” she yelled through the tears that poured down her cheeks.
Ben was genuinely confused about where she was coming from. “What are you talking about? What did Jessica say about me?”
“That you were giving me what I wanted so that you could get what you wanted. She told me you do it with all the new ‘innocent’ girls you meet. Hell, she said you did it to her. Do you know how stupid that made me feel?!” She couldn’t control the anger that flooded over her. “She didn’t even care to see my work. She only gave me an interview to scare me away from you. Do you know how awful that feels?”
Chelsea felt the tears beginning to well up in her eyes again. She could never put into words how crushed she was after having her hopes so high for the interview. She felt so stupid for thinking someone at Trend would actually care to see her work.
“Stop!” Ben yelled, getting her attention. Very slowly he reached over and grabbed the wine glass from her hand, setting it down on the table. Although she tried to pull away, he took her hands in his and looked deep into her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Chelsea. I should have never sent you there.”
“Why? So I would have never caught on to your little game?”
“Because I knew she still had feelings for me. I should have known she would do something like this if she thought it would be one less obstacle between us.” Chelsea tried to pull away again, tired of hearing it, but Ben held her hands firmly in his. “We used to have something. That part was true, but none of the rest of it is. You have to believe me.”
Chelsea swallowed hard and tried to think of something to say, but Ben didn’t give her a moment to cut in. “She’s jealous. I thought we had gotten past this between us, but apparently she is still holding on to it. Chelsea, I am so sorry. If I would have known she would treat you like that, I would have never sent you. You have to know that. You are nothing like anyone else I have ever met.”
“I’m sure that’s all true,” Chelsea said as sarcasm dripped from her tongue, “but it doesn’t even matter. I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up about you either. I think I just really need to focus on one thing at a time, and it needs to be on my career.” As hard as she tried, she couldn’t convince herself that that was true.
Ben looked at her longingly with emotion heavy in his eyes. After what seemed like hours, Ben finally broke the tense silence between them. “Don’t you feel the connection between us?” he asked quietly.
Dropping her eyes, Chelsea reluctantly nodded. “Then please don’t shut me out,” Ben begged. “Give me a chance to prove it to you. I’m not some womanizer running around the city looking for girls. I just want you.”
“You do?” Chelsea asked with tears brimming her eyes.
“Yeah. I know we’ve only known each other for a bit, but I think…” Ben hesitated for a long time before finishing his sentence. “I think I’m falling in love with you.”
“Me too. That’s why it hurt so bad to hear that I was just another girl.”
“I swear to you that isn’t true, Chelsea. You aren’t just another girl and you aren’t just another writer. Don’t give up on me and I promise I will spend as long as it takes proving that to you.”
“Okay,” she said, surprising herself.
“Okay?” Ben jumped with excitement and wrapped her in his arms, leaving her feet dangling above the ground.
“I’m so happy you’re giving me a second chance,” Ben said quietly as he kissed her forehead. “I promise you won’t regret it.” Looking deep into his eyes, Chelsea believed him with all her heart. This one, this time, was different.
The End
Protected and Taken by the Alpha MC Leader
A Biker Romance
Protected and Taken by the MC Leader
Chapter 1
Carrie sighed and looked out the window of the small lunch truck that she worked at. It was another hour before she could go, but there was a line around the block and she knew that they would have to serve them all befo
re she could leave. Or if the food ran out, but it almost never did.
Smashed was the new craze in the city and although the name did not bode well for a restaurant, it was because of their signature sandwich, the one that had everyone there. There was also a marketing scheme to keep it fresh, the truck would be announced on the radio where they would be for lunch. Customers would flock wherever they were to get their hands on a Smasher deluxe. To Carrie, it just meant she had to drive all over the city every morning.
Carrie didn’t like the smashed black bean burger, but it was a hit with many dieters and vegans. After she looked back at the basin of burgers, she was relieved to see that they didn’t have near enough to serve them all. She counted the few that were left and gave them a number. People started to leave and though a few grumbled, they just vowed to themselves that they were going to get one the next day.
“Carrie, let’s get these people through here so we can go.”
She nodded at Brosco and helped the next customer in line. Soon she was through and wrapping drinks up and putting things away in the front. They were out of there before one and Carrie was off to her other job at a karaoke bar. Carrie was a shooter girl and on occasion, she would do a few songs to get the drunks going, though they realistically didn’t need any help to make complete fools of themselves.
Carrie had enough time to get to her small Westside apartment and then shower and dress before she was back at it again. There were a couple of times that she had forgotten to shower and she smelled of beans the whole night. Surprisingly she got better tips that night, but she didn’t want to think too far into why that was.
She made her way the three blocks to Canivaals and clocked in on the old time clock in the back. She waved to her friend Mindy and went to the bar to grab her tray of liquor vials. Mindy made them earlier in the day and Carrie downed one before she started her shift.
Her job was not hard, more mind numbing than anything else. She used the time to think of lyrics for her songs and poems for her journal. Carrie had plans to publish her poetry one day or sell a song so that she could hear it on the radio, but for now, Carrie was slogging through 2 jobs most days, just so she could finish off her Bachelors in Art. With only one semester left, Carrie was finally on the home stretch and loved the idea of only needing one job after school.
Carrie was job was pretty simply as a shooter girl. She carried around a tray of shots and sold them to the crowd. While she would jump on stage from time to time, it was more for her love of music, then for any extra money. The thing she absolutely hated about her job though was the types of clothes that she had to wear. The shirt was a midriff and showed off most of her creamy cleavage. And if that wasn’t enough, a lot of men wanted to shoot them off of her and though she allowed some, it seemed demeaning, even with the large tip that she usually received. Every time a man’s face moved towards her chest, she just sighed and tried to smile when he looked at her. It was not a requirement of her job, but it was smiled upon by management, especially when she allowed Johnston to as well.
The pervy owner came through the place later in the evening around eight, when the club started to get busy. There was more dancing and by the stack of bills in her apron, it was going to be a good night. Johnston stopped her as she was about to go back on the floor with another tray full.
“I was hoping to get something to whet my whistle.”
Carrie groaned at his lecherous look and instead of pushing it through her cleavage as he wanted, Carrie handed a shot to him and walked away, flipping her mass of red curls behind her as she went. She smiled to herself for her small act of rebellion, but knew that it would most likely translate into fewer hours on the next schedule. Carrie promised herself that when she was able to quit a job, Carnivaals would be first and she would make sure to let Johnston know exactly how she felt. Pushing the mask back up onto her face, she situated the beads to fall in her cleft and walked up to a couple of guys that were eying the bar like they needed a drink.
“Would you guys like a drink?”
Carrie smiled up at the two men that were wearing biker jackets and seemed out of place in the bar full of drunken white collars. They were rough looking and covered in tattoos, not at all the normal clientele of suits. Neither one had been on the dance floor and she betted they were there on some kind of shady business. What kind of business could be done while a half-drunk broad sang a Whitney Houston song horribly? Not anything legitimate she guessed.
They smiled back at her and one man in particular caught her eye. He was handsome of course, but it was the way he looked at her that made her look twice. Carrie was used to leering men in that type of work, but he may have been the first one that month that looked into her eyes. On some strange level, she wanted him to notice her as others did, signifying her attraction.
“Yes I will take a couple.” The blonde man that was standing next to him was like most of the others, gawking and practically drooling at her chest. She handed him a couple of shots and ignored the fact that he did not tip her. When the dark-haired man ordered his, Carrie nestled it in between her large breasts and waited for him to take it. He surprised her by grabbing it out and shooting it down. He tipped her with a twenty and a card.
Carrie smiled back a little miffed and moved around the room. She did not offer it to anyone else in that way. It figured that the one she wanted to didn’t, and the rest did. She caught the eye of Johnston and he asked her to go up and sing a song to get the lines going for karaoke. Carrie did for a change of pace and to have a few minutes of fun in her otherwise boring day.
She sang a rendition of a country song that she knew well. It wasn’t really her genre of choice, but she always sang random picks, so Carrie Underwood’s cheating song was what was up. Her eyes played over the crowd as she sang and though she wouldn’t admit it to herself, there was a particular man that she was looking for. Carrie didn’t see the biker again and even when she put her carnival mask back on and went back out on the floor, she didn’t see him or his friend again. There was still his card in her apron, but she would quickly forget about it until that evening when she was counting her tips for the night at home.
While she had thought it may have been some kind of business card, it was just a name and a gang. “Castor Reaux - Devil Mutts.”
Carrie didn’t know what that was supposed to mean or who the Devil Mutts were supposed to be. She imagined that it was the name of a biker gang that she had heard about in passing. Turning it over, she found a number that was handwritten in scrawling text. Carrie hadn’t seen him write it, so she wondered if he had a pocketful that he handed out. The idea was creepy and she forgot about Castor and dragged herself home early around ten. Her small apartment greeted her, as well as her cat Meow.
She may never see the man again, but he inspired her. Instead of the writer’s block that had plagued her last couple of weeks, there was a song written in less than an hour, the music and lyrics pouring out of her. It was Castor that she thought of and she wondered why he had such an impact on her. He would be to her, ‘the man that had refused.’
Chapter 2
Carrie was at class painting a nude model and she thought of the dark eyes that held hers at the club. When she was surrounded by black bean smells and a line of customers in the East district, it was Castor that she thought of. He filled her mind and though Carrie never really worried about her dating life since her last break-up, Castor had her thinking that it may just be time to try to get back out there.
She looked for him at the bar that night but he wasn’t there. It was sad to her, but instead of pouting, she convinced Johnston to let her sing the new song she had just written. It sounded better with a cheer at the end and her thoughts went to the small card in her purse that she held onto for one reason or another.
When she got home that night, she lay in bed with the card in one hand and the phone in the other. What would she say? She didn’t know and Carrie put the card back down, the number burned in
to her brain. After several more minutes and another glass of wine, she punched the numbers in before she could chicken out. It was so unlike her, but as a woman who followed her heart more than her mind, she couldn’t help it. Something was pulling her towards the dangerous man that was so outside of her comfort zone.
“Hello?”
The voice was deep and rich. Carrie tried to say something but she paused. The man repeated his greeting, but she just could not seem to make herself speak. “Hi, is this Castor?”
“It is. Who is this?”
“Hi, this is…well I don’t think you actually know my name. You gave me this card with a number on the back.”
“Ah, you are that hot little redhead from Canivaal, right?”
That he knew who she was, put a hole in him papering the town with his call card, but she still wondered why he had given it to her in the first place. Moreover, what was she calling for?
“Yea, that’s me. My name is Carrie by the way.” Carrie paused, still not sure what she was supposed to say or why the hell she had even called.
“So you want to go for a ride?” Her heart thudded in her chest and she had said yes before she realized what had happened. “I will be there in a few minutes. Give me your address.”
Carrie knew that she should not give strangers her address, certainly not a tattooed behemoth man, but like everything else with him, she didn’t seem to have a choice in the matter. When she set down the phone, she went into a panic and ran to her room to find something to wear. What does one wear on a bike, she thought to herself.
She decided on some skin-tight skinny jeans and a tank top. It was warm at night in August, so she figured it would be enough. It was the third outfit she had tried on. The first two were thought against because of the idea of wind whipping up any kind of skirt that she would want to wear. Carrie was nervous about the prospect, but she did not have much time to be upset. There was a loud engine sound and she knew that it was him. Grabbing her purse and some lip gloss, she went downstairs to meet him.
