Claimed

by Portia Moore

  I make a decision right then and there. Zach didn’t want to bring me here because he thought I wouldn’t fit in, that I’d judge his friends, that I’d feel exactly the way I do right now. Well, I’m going to prove him wrong.

  “Let’s do it,” I say, looking sharply at Roni.

  She grins, her dark-red lips curving in a smile. “It’s going to be life-changing.”

  Zach

  I knew that I shouldn’t have left Rain alone with Roni. I didn’t want to bring her here at all, but I thought if she saw where I spent the majority of my time, and who I spent it with, she’d realize that I’m different from her, that she’s better than me, that eventually there’ll come a time where we won’t fit together. I warned all the guys that she was off-limits, and I figured the girls that hung out with us would be jealous or uninterested in her. But I saw the way Roni was looking at Rain when we walked in—intrigued, like Rain is some kind of project for her to work on. I don’t really even want them talking to each other.

  I love Rain exactly as she is—sweet, innocent, smart, nerdy. I wanted her to be disgusted with the world she saw me living in, not swept up in it. I knew she wouldn’t stay long after I went out while the guys smoked, but I didn’t expect to see Roni and her all buddy-buddy. I start to head their way when Jade steps in front of me.

  Jade hangs out at the clubhouse a lot—I don’t know who she’s friends with exactly, but she always seems to be around. She’s gorgeous, blonde, with curves for days, and big wide blue eyes. She actually sort of reminds me of Rain; it’s the reason I’ve ignored the glares she sends my way and how Bryan and the guys say how hot she is, but she’s even more beautiful up close, and I’m frozen for a second. She moves close to me. I can smell her perfume—she smells like raspberries and sugar. I can feel the warmth of her skin. I’m painfully aware of her skin-tight jeans, the curve of her hip as she brushes up against me, the swell of her cleavage and the flat, bare space of her stomach below that shirt she’s wearing—if you can even call it that. My hormones are going crazy from how close she is to me…

  “Hey Zach, Bryan told me you fixed your car. A Camero, right?” she purrs. I look at her then back at Rain and Roni, both looking at me annoyed.

  “Ugh, yeah. Can you give me a sec?” I tell Jade, maneuvering my way from beside her, but it’s too late. Rain and Roni are striding across the room towards us.

  “Rain said she needs to get home,” Roni says smoothly, tossing her bright red hair over one shoulder. “I’m going to take her. Have some girl time together, give you time to hang with your friend.” Roni says contemptuously, throwing a glare at Jade.

  “I can take her home,” I say sharply.

  “It’s okay,” Rain says quickly. “I want her to take me. I don’t want to interrupt anything,” Rain says quietly, gesturing to Jade.

  I look at Rain, astonished. “What? No, it’s okay. I’ll take you. You don’t need to bother Roni—”

  “It’s not a problem,” Roni says firmly.

  “We talked about it and decided.” Rain’s eyes are glinting with something…anger, stubbornness, determination maybe. Whatever it is makes my stomach feel sick. “I’m going with Roni. You stay here and have fun.”

  There’s no missing the emphasis on those last words, and I know exactly what she means. Guilt slithers through me, but before I can say another word, she’s following Roni out of the clubhouse, and I’m left standing there.

  Jade’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “It’s so loud in here,” she says softly. “You want to go somewhere quieter?” She moves close to me again, her hand on my arm, her long fingernails scratching gently over my skin. It sends a shiver down my spine, makes the hair on my arm stand up.

  I know what she’s asking. I know that I should tell her no. My life is complicated enough, and this will only make it so much more complicated. But it’s been a long time since I’ve done more than kiss a girl, months since Brigit and I broke up. She wasn’t my first, but there haven’t been many. And my hormones are quickly overtaking my common sense.

  “Yeah,” I manage.

  She grins and takes my hand.

  We wind up in one of the two tiny rooms that have been converted into bedrooms. This used to be a guest house, and now is just an ignored building on the property that Bryan gets to do whatever he wants with. There’s only a mattress and a nightstand in the room, but Jade pulls me down onto the mattress laughing, her blonde hair tangling around her face as she leans over me.

  I’m breathless from how close she is. She’s soft and warm and smells good—a mixture of that raspberry perfume and powdery makeup and the hint of a wine cooler on her lips. “So what do you like to do, Zach?” she asks, giggling softly as she hooks one leg over mine.

  I’m instantly hard. I can’t help it. I’m barely eighteen, and I haven’t touched a girl other than that one kiss with Rain in months—my body is screaming for me to let Jade do whatever she wants to me. I can feel my brain wildly trying to rationalize it as Jade toys with my belt, slipping the leather free of the buckle.

  “Uh…I like to work on cars,” I manage, and Jade giggles again. I should stop her, I think. But why? I can’t be with Rain. I’ve gone over it a million times in my head and the answer is always the same—I promised to protect her…and that means from me, too. The older we get, especially now, the more I see Rain’s path diverging from mine. I’m eighteen and dropped out just before my senior year. Rain is headed for college and whatever brilliant career she wants, as a writer or anything else she can imagine. If I let Rain fall more for me, if we were together, she’d stay with me. She’d give up anything to have a life with me, I know it. And if I let myself fall more in love with her—I don’t trust myself to stop that from happening.

  Jade kisses me, hard, her tongue trailing over my lower lip as her hand slides over the front of my jeans.

  “You miss your friend…don’t worry, I’ll help you forget about her for a little while,” she says before getting on her knees and trying to do just that…

  It doesn’t work.

  Chapter 19

  Rain

  Present day

  Four months pass before I realize it. My life with Vincent has become a whirlwind of trips, parties, opening nights, and dates that surpassed any idea I ever had of what a date night should be. I now have my own closet in Vincent’s apartment. It didn’t take much convincing for me to move the dresses, shoes, and jewelry that he’d gifted me over to his apartment. I’ve never felt fully comfortable having them in my room anyway, with Dena’s quirks. Other things took a little more convincing. Leaving things like normal clothes, makeup, or my favorite soap made me feel more and more like I was on the verge of moving in, and more than that, giving in to Vincent’s insistence that I should let him take care of me.

  Lying in bed with him one night, I tugged the sheets up over my bare breasts and looked sideways at him. I loved seeing him most as he was just then—sweaty and still a bit breathless, his hair a mess around his face. It’s more vulnerable, the closest that I thought I really got to seeing Vincent as he was under the expensive clothing, fancy accessories, and perfectly styled hair. In that moment, he wasn’t a powerful, intimidating mogul. He was just a man, one who was inexplicably still falling into bed with me after six weeks of being together.

  And as each day passes, I realize I’m falling for him.

  That I love him.

  It’s different from the love I thought I’d experienced before. A love I try not to think of often.

  But I know that this is still love because I want to make him happy. I can’t imagine doing anything to hurt him. I can’t stand the thought of losing him, or of him being crazy for anyone else.

  “Vincent?” I say, reaching down to run my fingers over the back of his hand. “Can I ask you a question?”

  He glances at me. “You can ask me anything you want, Poppy,” he says with an indulgent smile.

  I’ve sort of gotten used to the nickname. I still
can’t understand why he just won’t call me by my actual name, but I guess it’s a term of endearment. Sort of like babe or sweetheart. This one’s just more eccentric, yes, but Dena swears all wealthy men have their oddities. It feels strange sometimes, but it’s harmless and such a small thing to bring up, considering everything he’s done for me.

  “We haven’t…” I toy with a corner of the sheet, my pulse suddenly racing. “We haven’t talked about what we are, Vincent. If we’re…exclusive.”

  He grins. “Oh, that talk. Well, I’ve just been waiting for you to be comfortable. You’re always so hesitant about everything that I do for you. It was hard enough to get you to move some of your things in.” He winks at me. “If there was anyone else important to me, do you think I’d want to have another woman’s things with mine, in my closet, or my bathroom?”

  “That’s true,” I say with a small smile. “Still, I just…need to know where we are. So I don’t get hurt if it isn’t as serious as I think it might be.”

  He rolls towards me, the sheet sliding deliciously down over his hip as he does so. He reaches for my hand, threading his fingers through mine and squeezing. “Poppy, I am absolutely serious. Haven’t I shown you that?”

  “I know. And you’ve been wonderful. I just…” I love you is what I want to say, but I keep it back. If either of us is going to say it, I want him to say it first.

  “I want us to keep doing this,” Vincent says firmly.

  “Good,” I whisper. “That’s what I want too.”

  I go home the next day, after breakfast with Vincent. Despite his protests, I insist that I have to work tonight. He’s been having Benny get my shifts covered—and Vincent gives me more money than I ever would have made even on a Saturday night—any time there is some event or function he wants me to go to with him. Even just wanting to take me out on a date is enough of a reason for Vincent to cover what I’d usually make and get me the day off. And somehow, I can never manage to say no. But there is no event or function tonight, and Vincent has a business dinner. So I insist that I work my scheduled shift, and Vincent reluctantly agrees.

  Dena and Mallory are both home when I get there. “I have the rent,” I tell them quickly, as soon as I walk into the living room and see them on the couch, catching up on episodes of The Bachelor. I dig an envelope out of my purse that has the cash stuffed into it and hand it to Mallory.

  Mallory takes it, but I see her glance at Dena. I look at them both, their expressions hiding something. Dena is finally the one to speak up. “Rain, actually, I wanted to talk to you,” she says. “You haven’t been home hardly at all this month…I think you’ve spent like three nights here. And you’ve only worked that many shifts at Funbags.”

  “I know I haven’t been working, but the money is all there. Check and see,” I say, trying to lighten the mood with a laugh.

  “It’s not that,” Mallory says, looking concerned. “But it’s not really fair for you to have to keep spending money on a place where you don’t even stay, Rain. It’s not that we don’t want you here,” she continues quickly, “but you should be able to save up. You know…just in case you need money…later.”

  “In case Vincent breaks up with me, you mean,” I say flatly. I see Mallory ready herself to argue, and I shake my head.

  “I get it. I’m not mad at you for implying it. This whole thing is crazy. But I don’t really want to give up my place here. I do like having the option to come home to my own space.”

  “And I don’t want you to leave,” Mallory says quickly. “I really don’t. But what if that changes? What if Vincent talks you into moving in with him? We can’t afford to split the rent between just the two of us.”

  “And I have a friend who can move in this month,” Dena interjects. “So if you did want to give up your place on the lease, there’s someone who would be able to take your spot. For now, at least.”

  “I won’t leave you guys in a bad spot,” I promise. “Even if I decided to move out, I’d keep paying until you found someone.”

  “I’d miss you if you left,” Mallory says softly. “I feel like I don’t see you much anymore.”

  “I’ll try to be around more often,” I reassure her. We both hug and Dena scoffs at us. The one good thing tonight is both Dena and I are on shift so I can ride with her instead of taking an Uber.

  I try to prepare myself mentally for work. It’s a little jarring being back to work at Funbags, and I can’t help comparing the dim, fluorescent lighting, watery drinks, to the high-end décor, five-star food, and top-shelf liquor, in the places Vincent takes me to. It feels like I’m inhabiting two entirely different worlds. Hell, my life with Vincent seems like it’s on an entirely different planet.

  But I go, because I know I need to. I need to maintain some independence. I put on the short, tight black shorts that are a part of our uniform, complete with the “suggested” pushup bra, knee-high black stockings and black pumps, and ready myself for the night just how I did in my life pre-Vincent.

  It’s a busy Friday night. Someone is having a bachelor party, and they’ve taken up a full four tables in the back, just below the neon-lit beer sign. They’re also chewing tobacco, and they’ve spit on the floor more than once, barely missing my shoes on every occasion. I think that one of them, an Axe-scented bro with a backwards Cubs hat, is aiming for me on purpose. They all make comments about my appearance, call me “sweetheart,” “honey,” and “babe,” and I can’t remember a worse shift in a long time.

  A little voice in the back of my head keeps telling me that I don’t have to take this, that I can walk out. Vincent would happily cover my expenses—hell, he’d probably be thrilled if I quit the bar. He hates the idea of other men looking at me—at least when he isn’t around to be on the receiving end of their envy. But I also know that giving up my job—and by extension, my apartment—means giving up the last thing that keeps me grounded because even though I love Vincent and I think he loves me and wants to take care of me, none of that is promised.

  After hours on my feet, grabbing food and wings for the table full of rude guys, it breaks my heart when I see they left a $15 tip on a $400 tab. I worked my ass off and put up with all of their shitty demeaning comments for a $15 tip, bringing the total I made for the night to just a whopping $70. Even a ten percent tip would’ve been welcomed. I’d spent a good part of my night waiting on them, and they’d taken up most of my tables. I fight the tears in my eyes as I get dressed to leave and see a text from Vincent wanting me to come over.

  So I call an Uber, wincing as I fork over twenty of the $70 I earned tonight, and try to calm down on the ride over. It’s bad enough that I’m going to show up smelling like beer and chicken wings, and I try to cover it up practicing my fake smile, but the moment he opens the door he sees the look I’m trying to cover on my face.

  “What’s wrong, Poppy?”

  “Nothing,” I try to convince him, stepping past him into the apartment. “I’m just tired and need a shower, that’s all.”

  “Let’s go to a late dinner,” he says, his mood entirely lifted as he presses his hard body against mine.

  I pull the hair tie out of my high ponytail, letting out a soft sigh of pleasure as my heavy hair cascades around my shoulders. I see Vincent’s eyes skim over it, down to my pushed-up bustline. “Can’t we stay in tonight?” I ask, trying to sound less whiny than I feel. “We could order in, watch a movie, cuddle a little…” I run my hand over the side of his face, managing a smile. “I’m just so exhausted.”

  “Did something happen tonight?”

  “Just a group of rude, cheap customers.” I walk into the bedroom. I really want to shower.

  “Hang on a second, Poppy. What do you mean, rude customers? What did they do?”

  I let out a long, frustrated breath. “It’s not a big deal,” I insist. “Just a table full of guys making idiotic comments and me evading them from grabbing my ass. Nothing out of the norm, babe, I’m just exhausted.” I say all of
this lightly with nonchalance, but his expression morphs into thunderous.

  “What?” he snaps. “Are you kidding me? Someone fucking tried to grab you, and you just want to forget about it and go on with the night? How does a place like that even stay open? You’re my girlfriend, Poppy, and no one lays a hand on what’s mine!”

  “Vincent!” I exclaim, taking a step back. “Vincent, you’ve got to calm down, baby.” I don’t use pet names with him. It feels strange to say something like that to a man so dominant. But his anger is frightening, and all I want him to do right now is to calm him down. I can feel my heart pounding in my throat, and I have the sudden urge to go for the door, leave, and never come back. I can remember my father shouting like that when I was younger, and I hate being reminded of it.

  He takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Poppy,” he says, dropping his tone by several notches. “It just makes me so angry to think of anyone treating you badly.”

  “It’s just how some guys can be,” I say soothingly. “It’s no big deal.”

  “It is a big deal,” he insists. “I don’t want you working there anymore.”

  I know Vincent hates me to work at Funbags, but I assumed he understood what I dealt with. I mean, he has some sort of relationship with Benny for God’s sake. Now I’m realizing he has no idea what it’s like to work there, and if he knew some of the things that I had to put up with before I met him, he’d have a coronary.

  “Vincent, we’ve been over this. Having a job of my own is important to me.”

  “And protecting you is important to me,” he insists. “I love you, Poppy, and I can’t stand the thought of you being in a place like that—a seedy, disgusting dump where men can act like idiots.”

  My eyes widen.

  He loves me? I haven't been sure if I was ready to say it yet, despite the fact that the feelings have been there for a little while now. But I soften at the words, walking towards him. He isn’t being overprotective or controlling. He just wants to protect me. He just wants to care for me.