03| Arnica.

Have you ever felt like life continuously keeps throwing you curveballs to see how well you can dodge them? Because I do, and it fucking sucks.

I run through the revolving doors of the hotel, eager to put as much distance between Maverick and me.

Though my world is still slightly spinning, and my stomach is churning, I refuse to believe that I willingly married Maverick. 

I rip the wedding band free from my finger and toss it onto the pavement.

There is no way in hell that I am going to wear a ring that relentlessly screams I am lawfully shackled to a Quinn.

Looking up and down the sidewalk, I silently begin to panic as I realise that I have no idea where I am or how I will get home. I left my shoes and purse upstairs in Mavericks’ room, and I have no intentions of going back up there to retrieve them.

I was lucky to escape him this time around, the next… I doubt he will let me out of his sight so easily.

A black SUV pulls up against the sidewalk and the front window rolls down. “Mrs. Quinn. I have been ordered to take you home.” A male with dyed white hair and light green eyes declares to me in a soft but firm tone.

Great, Maverick has summoned one of his men to follow me around like a bad smell. I’m pretty certain that I told him I wanted a divorce.

I grind my teeth in frustration and scoff while shaking my head. “I’m fine, thank you. You can tell Maverick that I don’t require his services and I will find my own way home. Thanks.”

Turning on my heel, I walk away from the SUV. I take two… maybe three steps max before I hear the vehicle door open and close shut. The sound of heavy footsteps quickly follows before they slow down as the man who works for Maverick is now walking close behind me.

In silence.

Annoyed, I stop walking and turn around to face him, “you do know that stalking is a felony, right? I mean, if I were to call the police and inform them that a male with your description is following me, I could have you in cuffs and charged.” Folding my arms across my chest, I let out a sigh as my gaze trails over his face, waiting to see if he shows any signs of caution.

He doesn’t.

Which only proves that he is loyal to Maverick at any cost.

Instead of walking away, one side of his mouth kicks up into a lopsided smirk and his eyes narrow as they hold my gaze. “I don’t think you realise who you have married, Mrs. Quinn or the power your husband holds over this city. If Mr. Quinn were to commit murder, the police department would look the other way-”

“Because he’s threatened to hurt their family like a real low-life criminal?” I interject with disgust.

Great. The final nail in my coffin feels like it is being banged into place.

“No, Mrs. Quinn. Because they are on his payroll. It’s what they are paid to do.”

I tilt my head to the side, “can you please stop addressing me as Mrs. Quinn? My name is Arnica and are you seriously announcing to me that half of the police department is dirty and that Maverick is a killer?” In a hushed tone filled with alarm, I dared to ask him.

“I think you forget that money makes the Earth spin, Mrs. Quinn and that people are willing to turn a blind eye to be able to take care of their families even if it goes against everything they represent.”

“Hmm, Maverick sounds charming. He is everything I’m not looking for in a husband.” I snort in a snarky tone, hearing enough. “And you can tell him I’ll be waiting for those divorce papers because I’d rather fuck a demon with thorns on his cock daily than be married to a fucking Quinn.”

No matter how delicious he smells and looks.

“I will gladly inform him, but I won't live long enough to do so if you don’t get inside the vehicle and allow me to take you home, Mrs. Quinn.” A look of trepidation flashes in his eyes.

“Do you have kids?” I ask out of curiosity for future references.

“No, but I have found someone that I’d like to have kids with.” He replies genuinely, and my inner goddess screams in defeat.

I'm not about to ruin his future plans of having a family.

“Fine.” I sneer, walking towards the SUV. “After this, I hope to never see you again unless you are delivering the divorce papers.”

***

The club is jam-packed tonight and even though I feel like something daunting is about to happen, I still showed up to work because fear alone doesn’t pay my bills.

“Nic, I need you to take this order up to the top floor in the Fantasy Room,” Bev yells over the loud music, pushing the silver serving tray filled with alcohol in my face.

I stop wiping the bar down with alarm coursing through my limbs. My place is behind the bar, serving drinks and not taking them upstairs to the private rooms where all the sleazy and large spenders hang out.

And honestly, I’m cool with that.

 “Why me?” I retort, shaking my head. “You know I’m not allowed up there, I haven’t been trained to serve them.”

Popping her gum between her teeth and pushing the tray in my face once again, “look kid, all I know is that they have requested for you to go up and serve them. So, I’d remove that hideous top and take them their drinks in that pretty pink lacy bra of yours before they start to get rowdy and make a scene. If they tip you, remember half is mine because that’s one of my rooms you are stealing.”

I look to my left at Kenneth, looking for an ounce of support for him to back me up, but he quickly turns away, disregarding my silent pleas for help when Bev clears her throat.

“Off with the top before the big boss arrives, and trust me, he is the last soul you’d want to piss off but the first to fuck.”

With my heart hammering and my nerves getting the better of me, I slowly remove my top and take the serving tray from her grasp. The last thing I need right now is to be fired.

“Atta’ girl.”

I navigate through the bustling crowd, taking extra precautions to avoid any accidental collisions or beverage mishaps. Everything on the tray, surprisingly, is worth the same as my weekly income here, and I refuse to witness it spill and break right in front of me.

I enter the Fantasy Room, my gaze fixed on the ground. The air is filled with soft moans of pleasure, accompanied by the sound of bodies slapping, which I find quite repulsive. It's now clear to me why this room is Bev's favourite.

The Fantasy Room is just that; a room to live out your darkest desires.

As I carefully set the tray on the delicate glass table, my focus shifted to the task of serving the drinks. Suddenly, a surge of fear courses through me as I feel a stranger's fingers undoing my bra and tugging at my high-waist denim jeans.

“No…” I cry out, trying to escape after I realise what’s happening.

“Come on darling… I’ll make it worth your time.” A hoarse voice whispers with desperation before the flat surface of his tongue traces the outer shell of my ear.

Struggling against his tight grip, a scream is ripped from my throat as my bra is tossed to the floor before me and my assailant's lips map their assault on my burning flesh.

“No… please… stop. I don’t want this, I-” My words fade away as a gunshot shatters the silence, painting the side of my face and the table in front of me with a warm, crimson spray.

“Clear the fucking room. Now!” A haunting voice that I believed I would never desire to hear again echoes through the room, causing my composure to crumble. 

My legs weaken, and I am lifted effortlessly from the ground, held in a tender embrace that smells of cigarettes and fine whiskey.

Wrapping my arms around Mavericks’ neck, I slightly turn my head and watch as everyone leaves the room quicker than a buttered bullet soaring through the air.  

Then men all dressed in black suits fill the room and I quickly realise I’ve never been so glad to see Maverick and if he hadn’t shown up when he did, I’d hate to think what could have transpired.

“Th-thank you…” I say to him, my voice matching the tremble in my body.

“Shhh, Angel. I’ve got you, and there will be hell to pay for what’s taken place tonight.” His words hold a brutal promise that makes my heart skip a beat.

“Is he dead?” I brazenly ask him with my gaze meeting his.

The sound of someone groaning in pain gains both of our attention and Maverick lets out a gusty sigh followed by a murderous growl.

“Clearly, not. But I can have his death arranged if that’s what you want?”

The sound of his voice feels like a thousand needles stabbing at my flesh. I know it wasn’t a question, it was more of a statement, and it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside to know that he is willing to kill for me after everything I said to him back in the hotel room.

“No,” I state firmly after toying with the idea for a beat or two. 

I’m not a killer, and I’m not about to ask a Quinn to do it on my behalf.

“Let the police handle it. I’m sure this isn’t his first rodeo.”

Maverick slowly closes his eyes like he is hiding something from me, and he nods his head. “Take the son-of-a-bitch to the wine cellar. I’ll inform Devin to come pick him up.” He demands, authority oozing from him. “Meanwhile, you are coming back to mine.”

I open my mouth to refuse but quickly clamp it shut when he begins to speak, again.

“I warned you that I would find you, Angel, and when I did, I won't be letting you out of my sight. At least until we have had a civil conversation to jog your memory as to why you married me.”

“Can you at least put me down so I can retrieve my bra?” I ask with no intention to flee from him.

“Not a chance in hell, buttercup.” He replies with a low vibration coming from the back of his throat. “Don’t worry, we will be using the back exit, so no one will see what is mine.” 

Turning around, he walks out of the room with his men surrounding us and true to his word, he walks out the back exit door that leads to a dark alley with a black SUV waiting for us.

“I hope you are a good friend of the owner, Maverick. Because if he catches wind that you shot a paying customer and that I’ve left halfway through my shift with you, he’s going to fire me and I desperately need this job.”

Chuckling as he carefully manoeuvres his body so he doesn’t have to put me down to get inside the vehicle, he clears his throat. “Plot twist, buttercup. You ARE fired, but I’m also the owner of the club.”