My Mom's Fiance: A Dark Bad Boy Romance Page 12

  I cried out from the sudden pain and slapped a hand over my mouth to smother the sound.

  The driver peered at me in the rearview mirror.

  “You all right, Miss?”

  No. I would never be all right. But sometimes you have to pretend just to survive. So I smiled back weakly.

  “Yeah. I’m fine,” was my tortured gasp.

  But no, I wasn’t fine at all. With trembling hands, I opened the envelope. The wedding was tomorrow. Even though I already knew that, seeing the date in black and white letters knocked me on the head a good one.

  My mom and Jake were getting married.

  They were really doing it.

  Tying the knot, until death do them part.

  Oh my god, oh my god! What did that mean? Crazy thoughts spun me around as nausea rolled in waves, making my stomach turn.

  Married.

  The two of them.

  Sharing the same bed.

  Limbs locked together, shuddering with pleasure.

  Jake doing the same things to my mom that he had done to me.

  And yet, it was supposedly right for them to do those things. My mom was the right woman, not me. Amanda was the one, not me. In fact, if people knew, they’d think I was pure evil.

  Bile rose in the back of my throat, and I keeled over in the seat, moaning.

  The driver slammed on the brakes and the cab lurched. “Girlie, you don’t look too good!” He swung around the face me, concern in his brown eyes. “You want me to pull over?”

  But we were practically pulled over already and blocking traffic to boot. I shook my head furiously, still moaning, when all the envelopes tumbled off my lap except for one.

  The name leapt out in big block letters.

  SAFE HAVEN – A MENTAL HEALTH COMMUNITY FOR EVERYONE.

  The address on the envelope was just outside of the city. Easy to reach by taxi. I was trembling too much to make sense even to myself, but by then my mind did a hard left.

  “I’m sorry,” I wiped away my tears with the back of my hand and shoved the envelope with the address at the driver. “But can you take me to this location instead, please?”

  He looked at the envelope and then shot me a glance of surprise and concern. And they said New Yorkers were all assholes. “Are you sure about this, honey? You know, this is a place for crazy people.”

  I laughed hysterically, drawing another look from the poor dude.

  “The thing is,” I stammered, barely getting the words out between chuckles. “That I am crazy! I’m a crazy person, and that’s where I need to be!” My words ended on a high-pitched yelp, eyes rolling in my head.

  The driver shook his head, snapping around to face forwards. I’d scared him.

  “Okay, whatever you want, Miss,” and with that we were off, pedal to the metal. No one wants an insane person in their backseat.

  Meanwhile, I sank into the cushion, the fake leather smell overwhelming. Was I doing the right thing? Unfortunately, yes. Nothing I’d done in the last few months was sane. I’d made bad choice after bad choice. Not only that, but my morals needed to be adjusted and my mind put back on the right path. Hell, I needed to find my morals, not just adjust them. It was time to set things right.

  And eventually, we pulled up to a tall glass building in the middle of nowhere. The structure looked like any corporate business office, square and nondescript. But this was an insane asylum for sure because there was a high fence around the grassy, green grounds. As I stared, the air fizzled above the fence, dancing before my eyes. Of course. It was electrified so you couldn’t escape.

  "Are you sure still?" the driver asked me again slowly. "I can take you back into the city if you want. No extra charge,” he said, eyeing a guard who was obviously packing, a telltale bulge under his armpit.

  The offer was tempting, but I had to be strong. Drawing a deep breath, I shot him a watery smile.

  "It's okay. Thank you. This is where I need to be anyways." Pressing money for the fare into his hand, I got out. And the driver shrugged then.

  "Good luck, girlie," he said as the car rolled off. "I get the feeling you'll need it."

  Boy, would I need it. Once the cab disappeared, I squared my shoulders, back straight before approaching the guard.

  "I'm here to check myself in." My suitcase handle nearly slipped from trembling fingers, nerves making me shake uncontrollably. But gripping tight, my expression didn’t change. This was going to be my life from now on.

  And the guard shrugged, pressing a button. Slowly, the gate swung open, dark and scary like a raven's wings, ominous and foreboding.

  Oh god, oh god, did I really belong here? Stepping forwards, my foot faltered. Maybe there was another solution. Maybe I could redeem myself somehow, do good deeds and make up for my past. Maybe I could go to church and beg for forgiveness.

  But it was too late.

  That kind of forgiveness was over.

  I needed a shrink and maybe some meds to set myself straight.

  So taking a deep breath, I gripped the handle of my suitcase tight and passed through the massive gates. Something had to give, and this was the only way now. Asking my aunt for help would burden her, and my friends were too young themselves. My mother was out of the question. And as for Jake ….

  Oh Jake. My heart pulsed in pain, tears blurring my eyes again. What would he do if he knew I was here? But the thing is, he was getting married tomorrow. The alpha was likely busy with errands, getting his wedding suit together and whatnot.

  Oh god.

  His wedding suit.

  For his marriage to my mom.

  And swallowing once more, I stepped forwards, the gates clanging shut behind me. Because I belonged here, for sure. If anything, I deserved being here, after the fucked-up things I’d done. But my heart still cried, a hammer steadily pounding in my brain. Jake, Jake, Jake, it sobbed. Jake, save me please.

  But there was no salvation. There was only the insane asylum for me now … and my fragile mental health at stake.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Jake

  The tux looked good, skimming my broad shoulders, emphasizing the width of my chest. Not that I cared. So long as it was decent, that was enough.

  Cade, my best man, smirked before leaving the room to gossip with his wife on the phone. He’d come from Chicago for my wedding, thinking it was the most important day of my life. Bros forever, and all that.

  But I didn’t bother to correct him. There’ve been more important days in the past, and there’d be more in the future too.

  Fortunately, no one knew my traitorous thoughts. The church was packed. Even from up here, a private room in back, I could hear the voices. People talking and laughing, merrily jabbering away.

  Shit. I couldn’t stay up here any longer. Stalking out to the interior balcony, I looked down at the crowd gathered in the main hall of the church below.

  Amanda's bridesmaids clustered around the blonde, cooing and pecking like a gaggle of hens. But where was Lacey? I frowned. The brunette should have been in that group, helping her mom primp.

  Because I haven’t heard from her since that session at her dorm. That unbelievable session. My dick got hard just thinking of it. Shit, the little girl had been saving my cum, letting it drip from her ass into a bowl. What a dirty little slut. My dirty little slut.

  That night played in my fantasies non-stop, but with the wedding so close and Amanda losing her mind about something or other every five minutes, I hadn't been able to sneak off and see Lacey.

  Damn, I missed her.

  Not just the physical, but her sweet presence.

  Her voice.

  The look in her eye.

  Those sweet gasps.

  Her smile.

  Fuck, I was so fucked.

  But then Amanda’s voice broke into my rhapsody, a shrill screech.

  "My veil is too short! I need it be longer!"

  The blonde barreled down the hallway wearing her wedding dress, a tight thin
g that belonged on a girl half her age. She had a filmy veil in her hand but was ripping at the cloth like it had personally pissed in her cereal. "I can't wear this!" she screamed, unduly agitated.

  Her sister, Jillian, jogged along at her side looking ready to kill. “We can get you another one, Amanda. Calm down,” she soothed.

  And I grit my teeth, turning away. Nearly everything I'd heard from my fiancée’s mouth in the last couple of days had been at the loudest possible volume. Her flowers were the wrong shade of pink. The cake wasn't tall enough. Why didn't her ex-husbands all RSVP yes to be wedding? Unbelievably, really fucking unbelievable.

  I just hoped she'd hold it together long enough to get married. And long enough for me to get those connections afterwards. Because this was driving me nuts. I didn't want to spend the rest of my life shackled to a chick who turned into a raving lunatic just because her veil came down to her ass instead of her feet.

  Where the hell was Lacey?

  Down in the church, everybody was settling into their separate sides of the aisle. Amanda had more people on her side than I did, but most of my friends knew this wasn’t important and had decided to skip.

  No worries.

  I didn’t mind.

  So long as this farce ended sooner rather than later, things would be fine.

  But then Amanda ran by again, prattling about another nonsensical shit.

  "This is ridiculous!" she screamed to no one in particular. "Who went ahead and invited that bitch again anyway?" She viciously scratched through something written on a yellow notepad. "Tell her to fuck off and go someplace else. I told her she was uninvited weeks ago."

  Her sister tried to calm her down.

  "Amanda, she's your stockbroker, you can't un-invite her just because of that one investment. Everything else is doing well."

  "No! Fuck her. She can't come in here and she better not try or I'll have the bouncers throw her out on her ass."

  Bouncers? At our wedding?

  Lacey would never act this way, wedding or no wedding. Shit, she'd never act this way at all. I shook my head again. In the church below, everyone was ready and waiting, looking on expectantly.

  Except the woman I was supposed to be marrying was a raving lunatic. My fists tightened around the banister.

  Where the fuck was Lacey? At least if I saw her today, it would help me calm down and face her bridezilla mother with a smile. Maybe I could even drag the teen into a back room and do something naughty. Yeah, can you believe it? At my own wedding, I wanted to stroke my stepdaughter’s anus and make her scream.

  Fuck.

  I was so fucked.

  Maybe after all this wedding shit, Lacey and I could take a drive to the beach and enjoy ourselves as Amanda slept off her post-celebration stupor.

  Yeah, right.

  Because Lacey would never do any of that. Our illicit liaison had already made her so unhappy. And once the vows between me and Amanda were said, she’d be out. There would be no relationship once this was all said and done. Lacey would be gone, out of reach forever.

  My heart dropped.

  God, choices suck.

  I looked down into the church at the guests again.

  Lacey wasn't coming, and disappointment tightened my chest, sad reality hitting me in the head again.

  Once this was done, she’d never let me touch her again. She was off-limits. I'd lose her. She'd probably avoid being in the same room with me again, much less naked and begging for cock. My heart pounded, feet dragging on the floor.

  Did I mention that choices suck?

  I’m not one for drama, but resigned, I burst into the bride’s room.

  "Jake!" my fiancée giggled when she saw me. The blonde stood in front of a mirror, preening and admiring herself. It was a completely different scene from the woman running up and down the halls threatening people with bouncers, screaming “Fuck this” and “Fuck that.” The devil truly has two sides.

  But Amanda had no idea that I’d seen.

  "You’re not supposed to be here, silly. It's bad luck,” the woman cooed.

  I took a deep breath. There was only one way to say what I came to say, and even for a viper like Amanda, it wasn’t gonna be easy.

  "I can't marry you,” was my curt reply.

  Amanda gaped.

  "What the fuck do you mean you can't marry me?” she demanded, voice shrill. So much for nice.

  Her sister, who had been adjusting the veil when I walked in, stared at us, then grabbed her purse. "I'll leave you two alone," came a low mutter before the door slammed shut.

  Taking a deep breath, I turned back to my bride. Or ex-bride.

  "Just what I said, Amanda. I can't go through with this wedding. It would be a lie, and I'm all kinds of asshole but I'm no liar."

  Those green cat eyes narrowed at me.

  "Jake, we agreed to go through with this,” she spat. “You told me that things were good."

  My head shook slowly.

  "I was lying,” came my brutal answer. “It was all lies.”

  Hey, I never said I was a nice guy. The opposite, even during our supposed “magical day.”

  And the woman looked like I'd punched her in the face. Shock. Anger. Embarrassment. All these emotions flashed across her face like someone changing the channels on a TV screen.

  "Do you know what they'll say about me out there?" she hissed angrily. "Fuck you, Jake Mason. I'll be the goddamn laughingstock of New York." With a violent motion, she ripped the veil off her head and threw it on the floor.

  But that was none of my concern.

  “No worries, I’m sure you’ll live,” was my smooth rumble. “You’ve survived worse. Let’s just cut our losses and go our separate ways.”

  But that only made her angrier.

  "You obviously don't give a shit about me, otherwise you wouldn't be doing this. Not right now."

  That was certainly true, but there was no sense in pouring salt in the wound. So my expression stayed neutral, words mild.

  "I should have called this off a while ago, Amanda. Let’s just leave it at that."

  And tears started to fall from her face, big, ugly ones dripping through her black mascara.

  "Jake don't do this to me,” she pleaded. “You'll ruin my reputation in this town. They'll think I'm a bad bet."

  Shit, was she thinking about business? At a time like this, too? But hell, that’s what made her a good business partner, if not exactly a good wife.

  "Listen, this can’t just be about business,” I said impatiently. “I’ve changed my mind.”

  And those green eyes narrowed behind her streaked mascara.

  "Is there someone else?” she demanded. “Is that the reason you’ve been different? Is there someone else?”

  The blonde put her hands on her hips and aggressively stepped into my space. Her smeared make-up made her look real scary, like a ghoul with black streaks on her face.

  But I didn’t back away. Instead, I told the truth.

  "Yes," the word dropped from my lips. “There’s someone else.”

  And in that instant, the burden lifted. My shoulders lightened, my head immediately clear, like it was going to levitate. Because shit, there was absolutely someone else, and that special someone happened to be her daughter. All this misery? Not worth it. My business? Fuck, I’d find another way. I’ve been running this corporation for twenty years, I have enough connections on my own. That much was obvious, because nothing was worth this.

  But Amanda flew into a fury then, beating at my chest, screaming like a dying hyena.

  “Fuck you!” she screamed, pulling at my hair, trying to scratch and bite. “Fuck you, Jake Mason, fuck you to hell and back. I’m gonna squeeze your balls and hang ‘em out to dry! You’ll pay for this!”

  Huh. The real Amanda was out now, the harpy with no filter. But she couldn’t intimidate me. Effortlessly, I pulled her hands behind her back and pushed her onto the couch.

  “See ya,” was my bland reply. �
��I got better things to do.”

  And it was the truth. Because my best girl was out there, and there were reparations to be made. I only hoped I wasn’t too late because what if there was no going back? What if Lacey wanted nothing to do with me now? What if she couldn’t forgive or forget? I’d be screwed then … and left with nothing but my sins.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Lacey

  I was cold. Shivering.

  The room they had me in felt like it was all glass, one wall completely mirrored. But I couldn't see anyone. Machines beeped next to a folded white towel with electrodes on it. I knew they were going to put them on me. They said the electricity would rip through my body, burning my brain, setting things on fire.

  That sounded bad.

  But it was supposed to make me feel better afterwards, to restore my judgment and clear things up. So I sat and waited for the doctor to return.

  Shivering, my teeth chattered.

  Goosebumps rose on my arms and thighs.

  Where was everyone? Was there radiation in here, so it wasn’t safe for others to come in?

  Suddenly, there was a rattling noise and raised voices sounded through one of the glass walls.

  "You can't go in there!" one of the male nurses shouted, burly and huge. I hated Lester. Sometimes he threw my food on the floor, just to see me pick it up before eating. Isn’t that cruel and unusual? Can guards do that?

  But the ruckus kept going.

  “Get the fuck away,” came a low rumble. “Get the fuck away.”

  Who--?

  I gasped in shock when Jake burst inside, the heavy metal door clanking.

  He rushed up to my bedside, big body looming and dominant, reassuring as well. Was I dreaming? Ever since I got to Safe Haven, they’ve pumped me full of drugs and sometimes I don’t know if I’m awake or asleep.

  "Lacey, baby,” he spoke again, voice urgent. “We're going to get you out of here."

  “Jake?” came my incoherent mumble. My voice sounded a million miles away. “Jake, what are you doing?”

  His expression was grim.

  "Getting you gone," the big man rumbled.