by Brogan Riley
I do as I’m told.
Jackson grips my arm and pulls the strap of my top down. That movement exposes my tattoo, and he turns me round. His hands grip both my arms.
“Mine,” he says as he moves me, showing my tattoo to the people around me.
The bikers and women surround us. The blond man whistles.
“Prez is married,” he says.
“Yep, I’m married, Tyler,” Jackson says.
A wave of hoots and howls rolls over the bar. Then it’s quiet again.
“You look at her in the way that I don’t like, and you’re dead, motherfuckers,” Jackson says in a loud voice. He pulls me to him and wraps his arms around me. “Fiona,” he says. “I have a job for you. I want my old lady to look beautiful.”
“No problem,” the demoness says. “I’ll buy something suitable for her first thing in the morning.”
Something is wrong, but I’m so nervous I feel dizzy. The bikers’ words flow through my head but I don’t understand them. Every cell of my body trembles.
“Jackson,” I shriek. “What does all of this mean?”
He grips the back of my neck with his hand and tips my face up to his. “Everything is fine, Poppy.”
“No, it is not.” I try to wiggle out of his embrace, but he holds me in place.
“What’s wrong with your old lady?” Fiona asks.
“Nothing’s wrong with her.” Jackson growls.
“Why did she call me your old lady?” I ask.
I try to pull back, but Jackson tugs me to him.
“Calm down, Poppy. We’ll talk about it later.” Jackson kisses me on the top of my head.
You idiot. Everyone knows. You don’t. As always.
The brand. Marion has a similar brand.
“I don’t want to be your wife,” I sob.
I can’t.
I’m too stupid, too clumsy, too all the worst things I can imagine.
I can’t.
I wriggle out of Jackson’s embrace, animal-like sounds leaving my mouth. My fingers want to claw eyes out. My teeth want to shred.
I can’t.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t breathe.
Chapter 5
Jackson
Her eyes roll back into her head as her body grows limp. I scoop her up into my arms and lay her on the couch. Damn it. It’s not according to plan. Her eyes flutter and then widen as she retches.
“Poppy?” I stroke her head as she sweeps her imperceptive eyes over my face. “Everything is fine, baby. Just breathe, okay?”
Fiona covers her with a patchwork blanket as her glance asks me ‘Is she even legal?’.
“She’s old enough,” I say.
“I didn’t ask,” Fiona says as one of her asymmetric eyebrows crooks up and the scar on her forehead wavers.
Tyler scratches his head and then tosses his hair back. “Really pretty, Prez.”
“You want me to make you a blind man, Tyler?” I growl. “Don’t fucking even look at her.”
He raises his hands in a warding gesture.
“She’s hungry and tired,” I say through gritted teeth.
Fiona calls out to one of the girls.
She’s my bartender and my business partner. We own a small hotel in the city, thirty miles away from here. In fact, the hotel is her job; the bar is her hobby.
Fiona perches on the couch and strokes Poppy’s head.
“Don’t touch her,” I growl.
Nobody is allowed to touch what is mine.
Fiona moves away from Poppy, shooting me an amused glance. I kneel by the couch and put my elbow on the armrest above Poppy’s head.
“How are feeling, my little fawn?” I ask as gently as I can.
“I want to go back to Tank’s place,” Poppy gasps with a hint of hurt.
“You’re my wife,” I say. I can see the tone of my voice is scaring the shit out of her. “We talked about the rules, remember? You have to obey me, Poppy.”
I see Fiona clench her jaw. Tyler looks at me like I’ve killed an innocent.
I wanted to be as gentle with Poppy as possible. The circumstances demand that I change my approach.
Shirley brings a tray with food and beverages. She puts it on the low Japanese table and stares at Poppy.
“Shirley,” I say as I tilt my head, “thank you.”
She shudders and walks off.
Poppy sits up as her face tinges with pallor. Her chin quivers.
I sit down beside her and pull the table to us with my foot. Poppy holds a fork while I pinch a wisp of her hair.
“You said it would be easy for you,” I say.
Her glassy eyes turn to mine. “It was easy before. But now… it isn’t.” She starts eating, but it looks like she’s choking.
I sweep my eyes over my men and they disperse in all directions. No words are necessary. I’m the authority here and one glance is a clear order. Fiona, Poppy and I are the only occupants of the bar.
“So, honey,” Fiona starts. “You’re gonna have a lot of fun here.”
“Teach her to dress nicely and behave here,” I say.
Fiona nods. “Anything else you want me to teach her?”
“I will teach her everything else,” I say.
Poppy
It’s like a blur. People talk to me, but I can’t discern the words.
He talks to me; his words are like a warm meaningless stream of liquid.
Why is he doing this to me? We were supposed to be friends.
Friends don’t hurt each other.
He said I was his wife.
He wants to embarrass me. Why is he so cruel? He knows I’m too stupid. Too inadequate. I’ll embarrass him in front of his men.
He is off limits. Always will be.
I’ll keep trying to please him and I will always fail.
I fail almost everything in my life. I’d like to be good at something. I’d be good at having a family with someone like me.
Jackson is so much more than I am.
He said he wasn’t good at maths. He doesn’t need to. He’s a born leader. Born leaders like him need women like Fiona by their side not some silly Poppies.
“Poppy,” he says into my ear as his hot breath sends a tingle down my spine. He takes the fork away from my hand and holds my chin. Our glances meet. “You need to rest, sweetheart.”
He hooks me under my arms with his hands and rises to his feet. My instincts guide me to wrap my arms and legs around him. It’s all natural like I belong in his arms. But I shouldn’t be plastered to him. Fiona should be. Or Alexandra.
“Jeez, Jackson,” Fiona says with amusement. “You can be gentle.” She strokes my head with her knuckles. “Is she disabled or something?”
“A bit,” he says. “Don’t touch her. Told you that, remember?”
Fiona snorts. “I’m deeply in love with Diana, don’t worry. I won’t steal your little flower from you.”
Jackson carries me over to the exit and the cold air smacks my face, filling my nostrils with the smell of seaweed. He strides over to the lighthouse and we walk through the blue and red door. The smell of citrus and window cleaner settles in my nostrils. My eyes slide up a red metal stairwell and then travel to a kitchen as he closes the door behind us with his foot. We climb the stairs. I rest my cheek on Jackson’s shoulder. I’m so exhausted I feel liquidly.
I’m so cold I tremble. My teeth chatter together.
“I’m very disabled,” I say. “Not a bit. Lying is not good, Jackson.”
“You’re not disabled to me. You’re just you to me.”
Nice words but bring so much pain to my heart.
We enter a light room with a nautical décor. A canopy shelters a double bed that stands in the middle as white furniture layers one of the walls. I see a glass wall that separates the bedroom from the bathroom.
“How am I going to use the toilet in here?” I growl.
“There’s a bamboo blind, Poppy, don’t worry.”
&n
bsp; I shouldn’t complain. I’m safe in here.
Stop thinking, Poppy.
Jackson sits me on the bed and perches beside me. His hand rises, and he runs his thumb up and down my cheek. I suck in a breath as he glides his thumb over my lower lip. His eyes are burning like a hell fire. He parts my lips with his thumb and plants a hot, wet kiss on the corner of my mouth. It feels so good. Maybe… he really wants me to be his wife. Maybe...
“I just want you to be safe, Poppy.”
My heart crumbles into pieces. So this is what it’s all about. Now, I understand. He will hold me captive here in this lighthouse, calling me his wife for safety, but in fact, we’ll be strangers to each other.
I hate him.
No, it’s not good to hate people. Hatred is dangerous.
Stop thinking, Poppy.
I fall onto the pillow and curl up into a ball. I take a few sharps breaths and sleep cuts me off from reality.
Jackson
My little treasure. She’s so beautiful.
I can’t recall how my life was before her.
She is my life.
Fucking hell. How did that happen?
Fiona sneaks into the bedroom, her hands full of clothes. “Diana is the same size as Poppy and she left some clothes, so I thought… I’ll do the shopping tomorrow, I promise.”
“Thanks.”
I remove Poppy’s sneakers and drenched clothes without disturbing her and cover her with a blanket. She mumbles something in her dream. Fiona and I go downstairs to the kitchen.
“So,” she says as she winks at me. “A pretty little wife? Is that the reason for your mysterious trip to the Grim Dwarfs’ clubhouse?”
I scratch my head. “Adorable, isn’t she?”
“You’ve always been a hero, you know. A gentleman. Not here though. We don’t deserve the gentle Jackson apparently.” She smirks as she pours herself a glass of orange juice. “But this is… I don’t know. How old is she?”
“Old enough.”
“Are you—“
“Enough.”
She rolls her eyes. “Okay, the boring stuff then. Nate is in love with one of the whores working in Elise Lepor’s bordello.”
“Third time this month?”
“Uhm.”
He falls in love with every whore he fucks. Sort of. He remains in love for a week then gets drunk and falls in love again. He’s a crazy fifty-year-old big bear, very useful to my club. He was once a vice president. His small club was smashed by a rival one and only he survived. The woman he loved had died on that night.
“Cade,” Fiona continues with her report, “hasn’t tidied up the garden yet.”
He’s gonna clean the bar every night then. It will teach him humbleness. Cade also known as Mr CEO ran a big business in his previous life. He’d stolen so much money from his business associates that he faced twenty years in jail. My club was his salvation.
Fiona sighs. “Shirley is pregnant with Declan.”
“You sure it’s Declan’s?”
Fiona nods. “She thought he’d make her his old lady, but you know him. He likes variety in life and is incapable of falling in love with a woman.”
Yep, the guy is too young, too eager to fuck every pretty chick with big tits and a round ass. Too angry with the whole world. He doesn’t want an old lady. Women are brainless when they see his navy eyes, unruly black hair, and ink on his skin. He’s the club’s pretty boy.
“I’ll deal with that,” I say as I open the fridge and take two cans of beer out of it.
“What about the party?”
“What party?”
“You and your little Poppy. We should celebrate.”
“Deal with that.”
She salutes me and walks off.
Poppy
I wake up as a cold breeze brushes against my shoulder. I realise I’m naked, a blanket wrapped around my ass and legs.
I sit up as my eyes travel to the balcony door that’s ajar. The smell of tobacco settles in my nostrils. I flop from the bed and pull up the blanket, wrapping it around my chest. I step onto the narrow metal balcony. There’s enough room for two people. I turn my face to the right. Jackson is leaning against the wall and smoking a cigarette. He’s wearing only his jeans. The sun is rising as a streak of light slides down his perfect muscles and illuminates his tattoos.
The ocean is peaceful, glittery like its surface is made from precious gems.
“Hey, you little fawn.”
“You never sleep, Jackson.”
“I do.” He chuckles. “Sometimes.”
My eyes sweep over his bare chest and heat fills my tummy.
I want to be his wife.
I want to be smart and organised. I want to be normal. I want to deserve to be his wife. I want to be worthy of his love.
Yes, I want Jackson to love me.
“I’ll show you around and then we’ll have breakfast.” Jackson extends his arm to me and holds my hand.
“Okay.”
He disposes of the cigarette into a jar filled with murky water and shows me everything in the bathroom and bedroom. I must admit it’s not bad at all. I brush my teeth and put the clothes from Fiona on. It’s a printed black t-shirt and a short jean skirt. I complement them with a black cardigan and ballerina pumps. They’re a bit too small, but I can manage.
We go downstairs and Jackson starts cooking for me. I’m seated on a red bar stool, and I’m watching his tattooed back.
I wish I could glide my hand over his perfect muscles.
He turns to face me as his eyes narrow. “You little enchantress.”
A smile curls my lips. He’s so nice to me. I should be nice to him too. I already love him. It’s easy for me to love him.
It’s very difficult for me to be his wife. Impossible.
He leaps at me and my arms flap like they’re a bird’s wings. His hand hangs an inch from my face. His lips almost touch mine. I shiver in anticipation. I crave his lips on mine, but he drops his hand, shakes his head, and moves back to continue with cooking.
I feel like I’m going to die.
I can’t breathe.
I flop from the bar stool and tumble out of the kitchen. I need cold air. I need space.
I need him to kiss me.
I can’t breathe.
Chapter 6
Jackson
I follow her as she heads towards the edge of the cliff. I leap at her and grip her arm. “I’m sorry, Poppy.”
“You want me to be your wife or not? I don’t understand anything. You’re acting weird. I don’t understand, Jackson.”
“I thought… Poppy, sweetheart, you were so upset yesterday.”
I don’t know what to do.
“I don’t understand your world, Jackson. I’ll never be able to understand it.”
Her words carry so much sadness I feel my heart crumble.
I kneel down, wrapping my arms around her ass. “I want you to be happy. Just tell me what to do.”
“I know nothing, Jackson. Nothing. Why are you asking me for advice?”
I pull her down so she sits on her heels. Goose bumps pop up all over my skin at the touch of the cold air. Poppy’s wide eyes lock on mine.
What do you do with a fawn? You tame it? Caress it? Corrupt it?
Maybe I should start trusting my animal instincts and stop listening to my rationality.
I lean towards her and press my lips against hers. She sighs into my mouth but doesn’t pull away. The salty sadness of her tears pricks my lips.
I tear my mouth off hers and sweep a few wisps of hair away from her face. Her wide eyes fix on mine, and she blinks a few times.
“Can you try to be my wife?” I ask.
“I’m too stupid to be your wife, Jackson.”
“Poppy, don’t say that. You’re good enough to be my wife.”
She rolls her eyes, but her arms encircle my neck. I feel like an angel is touching me, her face so unearthly in the light of the early morning sun.
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br /> “I don’t know what to do,” she says.
“Just love me, okay? That’s enough. You’re enough.”
Fuck me. I feel like I’m drunk on her closeness. So fucking drunk with happiness.
I lift myself, holding her against my chest, and I carry her over to the lighthouse. I sit her on the bar stool and pile two plates with the food. I sit down on the chair beside her and we start eating. Well, she’s eating her scrambled eggs and I’m eating her with my eyes.
Mine.
She is mine.
She was born for me.
The roar of a car engine tears me out of my sacred bubble of joy. I look out the window and see Ricky get out of his SUV. Two bodyguards accompany him.
Fiona sneaks into the kitchen, two bags swinging in her hand.
“Go to see the dick,” she says, “and I’ll watch over Poppy.”
Poppy
Jackson slips into his biker jacket as he walks off, and Fiona takes me upstairs where she starts showing me the clothes she bought for me.
“They’re all very beautiful,” I say, “but not practical.”
“Your old man wants you to look beautiful not practical, sweetie. And I’m trying to do my job out the best I can.” She kisses my temple and strokes my hair. “You’re so pretty, you know. So sweet.”
“Thank you. You’re very nice.”
“Try the clothes on.”
“Okay.”
She helps me strip and watches me with dark eyes, chewing her lower lip. It feels weird, but she’s nice so I don’t say anything.
“If you get bored of your old man, I’m here to help,” she says as she assists me in putting a black and red corset on. “I really like you, Poppy.”
“I like you too.”
I really do. She seems like a good woman to me. Weird but good.
“You ever had a gun in your hand, Poppy?”
“No.”
“I’ll teach you to shoot a gun, but don’t tell Jackson, okay?”
“Why?”
“We don’t want to bother him, do we? He’s so busy. Too busy to be worried about our girly stuff.”
“Okay.”
“Life is not safe when you’re President’s old lady, sweetie, and I want you to be safe. You’re too young, you know.”
I try all the clothes on and then Fiona urges me to go downstairs. She reheats the food in the microwave, and we sit at the table. I start eating.