The Mafia Uncle's Pet

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I got snatched by my dad's sworn enemy.

The ransom? A cool ten million.

Plot twist: Marcus wasn't even willing to cough up a single grand.

His counteroffer? He practically handed me over to the guy as a collateral bride.

If your old man doesn't pay up, you really think I won't end you? He jerked a thumb toward the dark, churning water of the bay, making it crystal clear I was seconds away from a permanent swim.

My teeth clicked together so hard my jaw ached. "I believe you."

Fast forward exactly one year. Marcus finally called.

The man gripped the receiver, the plastic creaking under his tight hold. "Keep your damn money and come get her." He jabbed a finger in the air as if Marcus were standing right in front of him. "I didn't sign up to run a freaking daycare for your kid!"

He slammed the phone down. A half-lit cigarette dangled from his lips, his jaw locked tight with raw, unfiltered irritation. Yet, despite the lethal aura radiating off his massive frame, his large, calloused hands moved with a practiced, forceful rhythmscrubbing the suds deep into my lace panties in the sink.

Chapter 1

Inside the rundown rental, the man's black baseball cap was pulled low. The tight black tee strained against explosive muscle contours, and a massive, oppressive falcon tattoo slashed across his thick forearm, radiating raw intimidation.

"Remember the script?"

"Yeah."

My life hung by a single, frayed thread. The call connected.

"I've got your daughter, Hazel"

"Dad"

Click.

The line went dead the second he heard my name. He redialed.

"I ain't got a dime. Keep her."

He hit redial again. It went straight to voicemail. Marcus had turned his phone off. The entire room stared at me.

"Beau, what's the play here?" they looked at him. That was when I learned his name was Beau.

Beau's dark eyes slid to me. He crushed his cigarette out, his voice rough as sandpaper. "Throw her in the ocean."

So, they threw me into a swimming pool. We were in the middle of nowhere; there wasn't a coastline for miles.

Half an hour later, I dragged my dripping body out of the water, trudged back to my original spot, and sat down to await my sentence. They were playing poker.

Beau flicked a glance my way. He lazily tossed a card onto the table, completely ignoring my existence.

The others noticed me and started whispering. "Boss, she's a city girl. Think she'll catch a cold soaking wet like that?"

"Yeah, city girls go to the ER for a paper cut."

My nails bit into my palms. I didn't dare breathe too loud.

"You care so much, how about I wrap her up and give her to you as a wife?" Beau shot back.

"Boss"

"Seems like you guys aren't here for the ransom, you're here to hit on girls." He shoved his chair back. His massive frame stepped right in front of me, completely blocking the sticky, lingering stares from the rest of the crew. His oppressive gaze swept the room, dropping the temperature to absolute zero.

The room fell dead silent.

He pulled his gaze back and looked down at me. "The hell are you standing there for?"

"Huh."

I stood up, completely lost, and shuffled over to sit on a stool nearby.

"Go take a shower. If you get sick, there's no hospital out here." He stood up, lit a cigarette, and strode out, muttering under his breath. "Fucking high maintenance.

Down the hall, take a left. And don't you dare touch my clothes!"

My throat tightened. "Okay."

I shrank back, my shoulders hitching, totally dwarfed by his looming shadow.

The hot water hit my skin, and the tears finally broke free. I wasn't crying because my dad abandoned me. I was crying because survival instinct had literally forced me to learn how to swim in under thirty minutes.

My name is Hazel. Marcus was loaded. The man had been married more times than I could count. With a sprawling mansion packed with twenty kids, I was firmly at the bottom of the food chain.

He could never wrap his head around how he produced a slow-to-react, scrawny runt like me.

Until one day, he walked in waving a paternity test, laughing like a maniac. "I knew I didn't have idiot DNA in me!"

Except his laughter died real quick when he realized what that actually meant. My mother had played him. After that, I was banished to the shadows.

My allowance? Cut. My private bedroom? Gone.

They shoved my things into the damp basement. I became the live-in maid. Waking up before dawn to cook, mop the floors, scrub the laundry, and wait hand and foot on his giant, messy family.

Once, I asked my grandmother, "Why doesn't Dad like me?"

She glared at me. "Go ask your mother."

I shook my head. Her dementia was flaring up again. My mom had been dead for ten years.

Since then, I walked on eggshells, swallowed my pride, and worked my fingers to the bone, terrified of setting Marcus off. I thought that was going to be my life forever. Then, I got kidnapped.

My miserable, quiet existence shattered.

Chapter 2

After my shower, I had zero clothes to wear. I dug through the closet and grabbed a random, oversized T-shirt. I rummaged for ages but couldn't find a single pair of pants that wouldn't fall right off my hips. Hearing voices outside that sounded like they were calling for me, I didn't dare hide in there any longer.

I braced myself and walked out.

The second I stepped out, the roughhousing stopped dead. Every single pair of eyes in the room instantly locked onto my bare legs. Beaus face darkened instantly. He kicked his chair back, the metal legs screeching against the floor, and shot to his feet.

His massive frame radiated the raw, destructive energy of an enraged beast.

He pointed a lethal finger at the crew. "What the hell are you staring at? Never seen a woman before?"

"Boss we weren't looking."

"Out."

The guys dropped their cards and scrambled for the door, muttering under their breath.

His dark eyes pinned me in place. "Get your ass back inside."

"I okay." I didn't dare talk back. I spun around and bolted for the bedroom.

Heavy footsteps pounded right behind me. Panic seized my chest, and I slammed the door shut.

BANG.

The heavy wooden door flew open, rebounding off the wall as his boot kicked right through my weak defense.

"Wearing that?" His gaze swept over me, sharp and critical. "You're too young to be playing these games."

"I'm sorry. I I don't have any clothes." I stuttered out the words. His massive frame blocked the exit completely, so I froze in place, my hands trembling.

"Don't flaunt it if you ain't got it." He leaned against the doorframe, his dark eyes boring into mine. "You have any idea the guys out there are absolute animals? They'd chew you up and spit out the bones."

"No"

"Well, let me educate you. They're a pack of bachelors who haven't touched a woman in months, some even years."

A cold chill crawled up my spine. A stray tear pricked the corner of my eye, and I fiercely scrubbed it away.

"What are you crying for? Figured out how to be scared, huh?"

I bit down hard on my lower lip, tasting iron, refusing to let another tear fall.

"Fuck." He cursed under his breath. Clamping his cigarette between his teeth, he took massive strides toward the closet. He roughly yanked out a pair of baggy gym shorts and tossed them directly over my head with undeniable force, blanketing my vision.

"Put some damn pants on! Shed one more tear, and I'll toss you to the stray dogs. You believe me?"

"I believe you." I scrambled to pull the shorts on.

"In the bathroom!" He shot me a lethal glare and exhaled a heavy stream of smoke. "I'm a guy. A bad guy.

Do you have zero survival instincts?"

"Okay!" I clutched the shorts and sprinted to the bathroom.

He was terrifying. Worse than Marcus. My body physically wouldn't let me fight back against a guy like that.

By the time I swapped out my clothes and crept out, the bedroom was empty. I peeked around the corner and caught him at the front door, grabbing a takeout bag from a delivery guy. Just one bag.

I sat on the stool next to him. He ripped open a container of spicy pork fried rice, and my throat bobbed.

He tilted his head, catching my stare. "You want some?"

"Yeah." I nodded, swallowing whatever pride I had left.

"Too bad." He tossed his fork onto the table, his tone perfectly flat.

I clamped my mouth shut. If he wasn't sharing, I sure as hell couldn't steal it from him. He had at least a hundred pounds of muscle on me.

"You know how much your old man owes me?"

"Ten million." I'd heard the phone call.

"At least you're not completely deaf." A dark, mocking chuckle escaped his chest. "And you still want my takeout? What, looking to tack another thirty bucks onto his tab?"

I hadn't eaten in twenty-four hours. My brain was practically short-circuiting, screaming two words: spicy pork.

"Can I?" I looked up at him, pure desperation in my eyes.

"In your dreams." He dragged the words out, leaning back in his chair. "Don't think batting those eyelashes and acting all fragile is gonna melt my cold, dead heart. That shit doesn't work on me."

"Okay." I swallowed hard, shrinking into myself, staying dead quiet.

He popped the lid off the takeout container, stabbed his fork into the rice a few times, and scoffed. "Tastes like garbage."

He snatched his smokes and lighter off the table and strode out to the balcony.

Chapter 3

I watched him in silence as he leaned his head back on the balcony, chain-smoking. It wasn't long before he lit up his third cigarette. My stomach let out a loud, embarrassing growl, but he didn't even budge.

I stared at the spicy pork. I touched my hollow stomach. Finally, when he wasn't looking, my survival instincts hijacked my brain. I reached right into the container, grabbed a chunk of pork barehanded, and shoved it into my mouth.

He turned his head right at that exact second. My heart literally stopped. My jaw locked; I didn't even dare to chew.

He just shot me a blank look, pulled out his phone, and dialed a number. As he talked, he turned his broad back to me again. My lungs finally remembered how to take in oxygen.

A sharp hollow ache in my stomach overrode my fear. I kept sneaking pieces of meat into my mouth, chewing as silently as humanly possible. By the time he hung up and strode back inside, reality crashed down on me. The takeout container was just a pile of white rice.

I had devoured every single piece of pork.

"Where's the meat?" His dark eyes narrowed.

"I don't know."

"You don't know?" He stared me down. Suddenly, his massive hand shot upI braced for an impact, my muscles locking up in absolute terror.

Instead of a strike, his rough thumb forcefully swiped across the corner of my mouth. He crushed a rogue grain of rice against my skin. The abrasive, scorching heat of his calloused touch sent a violent shiver crashing through my entire body. I was so dead.

"You ate my food." He leaned back, casually crossing his arms as he analyzed me. "Now let's talk. What are we doing about the ten million your old man owes me?"

"Make him pay you."

"He bailed." His gaze didn't waver.

"Then you want me to pay?"

"You?" He let out a harsh bark of laughter. "How exactly are you gonna do that? You really think a flat-chested, bony little thing like you is worth ten million?"

"You" Heat rushed to my cheeks. Humiliation burned in my chest, but my self-preservation instincts forced my mouth shut.

"Finish the rice and get the hell out. Stop wasting my time." He pushed his chair back, his patience entirely tapped out, and slammed the front door behind him.

Obviously, I was leaving. The guy practically gave me a free passI'd be a complete idiot to stay! I shoved the rest of the plain rice down my throat and sprinted out the door like my life depended on it.

Exactly thirty minutes later, I dragged myself back into the rundown rental, looking like a drowned rat.

"Interesting." Beau leaned against the wall, eyeing me. "Why are you back?"

"It's raining out there." I shivered uncontrollably, my teeth chattering. "And it's pitch black."

"Scared of ghosts? But you're not scared of me?" He raised a mocking eyebrow.

"Yeah." I nodded. Given the choice between the supernatural and him, he suddenly didn't seem like the worst monster in the dark.

He just stared at me. He paused for a beat, reached back, and yanked his tight black T-shirt over his head in one fluid motion. "What about now?"

Water droplets slid down his sharp, lethal jawline, disappearing into the deep, carved grooves of his eight-pack. The heavy heat radiating off his skin, mixed with a raw, aggressive masculine scent, hit me like a physical blow.

"How old are you, kid?" A dark smirk played on his lips.

"Eighteen." My breath caught in my throat.

"Barely eighteen. Guess you really should be calling me Uncle." He exhaled a heavy breath, his large hand snapping out to wrap around my wrist. He dragged my palm flat against his rock-hard abs.

"You like what you see?"

I had never been in a situation like this in my entire life. All the blood rushed straight to my head, and suddenly, a warm liquid trickled down my philtrum. I violently tilted my head back, panic spiking. "Uncle I think I think my nose is bleeding."

"Jesus fucking Christ." He ripped a handful of tissues from the box and forcefully clamped them over my nose.

After thirty minutes of absolute chaotic scrambling, he threw his shirt back on. I sat motionless on the stool, thick wads of tissue shoved up my nostrils, completely questioning my life choices.

"You take the couch tonight. Tomorrow morning, you're out of here."

"Oh."

"Oh? You got a problem with that?" He shot me a dirty look. "I'm taking pity on you by letting you crash here.

Don't tell me you expect to take my bed."

"No problem at all. I just I've never slept in a living room before. I'm scared." I clutched a throw pillow against my chest, giving him the most pathetic look I could muster.

"The hell are you scared of? Ghosts aren't real."

I shut my mouth.

Chapter 4

"If you want the bedroom, you sleep with me." He tossed the words over his shoulder and strode into the room, leaving exactly zero room for negotiation.

I thought I'd be up all night, paralyzed by pure terror. Turns out, by the time my eyes fluttered open on that lumpy sofa, the midday sun was already blinding the living room. The bedroom door clicked open the exact second I sat up.

Beau stepped out, his dark hair an absolute bedhead mess. He paused for a fraction of a second when he saw me, then immediately resumed treating me like invisible lint on the floor. He headed for the kitchen. I shadowed him right in.

He stopped and looked over his shoulder. "What?"

"I don't know the way out of here, and I don't have Uber money." I laid out the depressing facts.

He shot me a sideways glance, his tone dripping with careless sarcasm. "Guess you're staying here forever then."

I kept my mouth shut and kept tailing him.

My relentless shadowing finally snapped his nonexistent patience. He spun around, towering over me. "Get this straight in your head. Your dad owes me money.

I'm not running a charity taxi service for his kid."

"I know." I didn't budge.

He let out an exasperated breath, yanked his wallet out, and practically threw a few crumpled bills at my chest. "Take it and get the hell out. You're a walking headache."

I caught the cash. "I can't walk to the bus station. It's miles away."

"And? You actually think I'm gonna drive you? What do I look like, Mother Teresa?"

"I think you're not a bad guy." I looked him dead in the eye, totally serious.

"Did school fry your brain? Not a bad guy? Just because I haven't tossed you off a cliff makes me a saint? Are you literally stupid?"

A harsh, utterly baffled laugh ripped from his throat. He pointed a lethal finger at the door. "Before I change my mind, I highly suggest you vanish from my sight."

An absolute ultimatum.

So, I grabbed the cash and bolted.

Exactly one hour later, I dragged myself right back.

I had made it to the station, only to catch a breaking news clip playing on a stranger's phone screen. Marcus had fled the country with a mountain of debt. Every single asset under his name was frozen. Liquidated.

Gone.

I stood paralyzed on the pavement for thirty solid minutes, the words turning to white noise in my head. By the time reality snapped back, my autopilot had already marched me right back to Beau's doorstep.

I had no home.

The second Beau opened the door and saw my face, his jaw clenched tight with pure irritation. "You're still here?"

"My house got seized."

"And?"

"I don't know where to go."

"You don't know where to go, so you crawl back to me?" He aggressively shoved his hands into his pockets. "You trying to leech off me now?"

"Just temporarily." My voice sounded hollow, completely detached from my vocal cords.

"Listen to me very carefully. This isn't a homeless shelter. You crawl back to whatever hole you crawled out of. I already told you I'm not a good guy!"

"Okay."

"Your old man owes me millions, and you show up at my front door. What, do I owe your whole damn family a living? You think I won't just"

"I believe you."

The moment the last word slipped past my lips, the ground completely dropped out from beneath me. My vision tunneled into suffocating darkness. The roaring in my ears drowned out whatever he was shouting. Then, absolute black.

When consciousness finally dragged me back, the room was thick with muffled, chaotic voices.

"Boss, she looks pretty damn pathetic."

"No kidding. Her old man is cold-blooded, ditching his own kid to save his skin."

"She's pathetic because she's homeless, but you guys aren't pathetic missing out on all your blood money?" That rough, jagged voice was undeniably Beau's.

I was awake, but I kept my breathing shallow, my eyes clamped shut.

"Her dad's a piece of work, sure. But we're the ones who dragged the girl all the way out to the boonies."

"Yeah plus, she's got that soft, pretty thing going on. Actually looks kinda perfect next to you, Boss."

"Fuck off!" A heavy boot kicked something solid, followed by Beau's explosive curse. "If you want to adopt a stray, take her yourselves. I don't harbor walking liabilities."

Chapter 5

Great. The whole crew bailed.

Panic spiked in my chest, and the words tumbled out before I could stop them. "I'm not a liability."

I instantly clamped my mouth shut when Beaus dark eyes locked onto me.

"Not a liability?" An amused, mocking smirk played on his lips. "Give me one good reason why I should let you crash here."

"I I can cook. I can do laundry. I can mop." I kept my face dead serious.

"I won't be a freeloader. You just need to let me stay until my dad contacts me. You want your money back, right? I'm sure he'll call soon."

He stared at me for a long beat. "You really think he's gonna call you?"

"Probably." Even I didn't believe my own bullshit.

"No way. I'm a grown man. I'm not playing house with some girl."

"I'll leave as soon as the semester starts."

"Cut the crap."

His words were a hard no, but the bite was gone. More importantly, he didn't physically drag me out by my collar this time. So, I took that as a resounding yes.

I didn't expect that temporary pass to stretch into two whole months.

For two months, Marcus was a total ghost. I sneaked a call to my college, but the administration shut me down fast.

"Don't come back to campus, Hazel. Your father's creditors are practically camping at the gates. It's a massive security liability for the other students."

That's how I found out the sharks were stalking my school and my grandmother's place 24/7.

A cold, suffocating weight settled right on my chest. But I didn't dare breathe a word of it to Beau. If he knew I was a permanent dead-end, he'd toss me to the curb in a heartbeat.

I went into full survival mode. I tried to play the perfect, useful roommate. I figured I'd cook him dinner.

Instead, I literally blew up the kitchen.

By the time he fished me out of the smoke, my face was coated in an inch of black soot. He had to squint just to make sure it was actually me.

"What the hell were you doing in there?!"

"Cooking the canned food" I coughed out, my voice embarrassingly weak.

"Without opening the cans?!"

"I was supposed to open them first?"

He just stared at me, utterly speechless. He grabbed me by the back of my collar, hauled me into the bathroom, and aggressively scrubbed the soot off my face under the warm tap like he was washing a filthy stray puppy. He rinsed me off two more times before dropping an absolute ban.

"You are officially banned from the kitchen."

"Then how am I supposed to cook? Come on, it was just a tiny miscalculation."

"Trust you? I'd have better luck trusting the devil." He muttered a string of curses and went back to the kitchen to clean up my disaster zone.

He was halfway through scrubbing the charred walls when his crew busted through the front door.

"Beau, the hell are you doing in the kitchen?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Since when do you cook? Where's our little Hazel?"

"She's in the shower, obviously!"

A heavy beat of silence hit the room.

"Taking a shower in the middle of the afternoon? Boss, what exactly are you two"

"Shut the fuck up."

The guys instantly zipped it.

I had just stepped out of the bathroom, fully intending to help Beau salvage the kitchen, but hearing that exchange sent a massive rush of heat straight to my cheeks.

"Hey Hazel, why's your face so red?" One of the guys spotted me.

"The water was too hot," I blurted out.

The entire crew exchanged a collective, knowing oh, sure look. The heat in my face completely maxed out.

"Don't you idiots have anywhere else to be?" Beau stalked out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel, and started actively shoving them toward the door.

"Whoa, Boss, we've got our Wednesday poker game! You can't just kick us out." The guys groaned in protest.

"Game's canceled. Not in the mood." He shut them down cold.

"Damn, who pissed in your cereal?"

Beau ignored the comment. He shot me a sideways glance before looking back at his guys. "Any leads on where the hell Marcus is hiding?"

"The feds can't even find the guy. How are we supposed to track him down?"

"Forget it. Get out." Beau practically shoved them into the hallway and slammed the heavy door right in their faces.

Chapter 6

"Any word from my dad?" I asked, testing the waters.

"I should be asking you that." He tossed his towel onto the couch, visibly agitated. "How long are you planning to leech off me? You trying to make this a lifetime gig?"

"I'll I'll leave when the semester starts." I lied through my teeth. A cold knot tightened in my stomach. I was the only one who knew I had absolutely nowhere else to go.

"When does the semester start?"

"September."

"That's over two months away."

"I'll pull my weight with the chores!" I promised instantly.

"Chores? You're gonna blow me to pieces one of these days." He planted his hands on his hips and shot a lethal glare toward the kitchen. He grabbed two instant cup noodles and slammed them down on the table in front of me.

"Put it on your tab. When your old man finally calls, you're paying me back for every single cent."

"Okay." I pulled out my little notebook and scribbled it down: Cup noodles, $4.50.

The pages were already crammed with neat rows of numbersa solid ten pages detailing every single dime of his I'd spent over the last two months. He was terrifying. Whenever I used anything of his, my survival instincts forced me to document it.

"You got the math right? How much do you owe me?" He expertly poured boiling water into the cups, then lightly tapped the top of my head with the back of his fork.

I rubbed my head, wincing. "A total of $2,325.50."

"Two grand?" He shot me a dirty look. "You're eating right through my damn marriage fund."

"Is that a lot?" The words slipped out before I could stop them. Back in the day, I could drop ten grand on a single shopping trip, and Marcus wouldn't even blink. I used to swipe the black card like it was nothing; the concept of money was completely foreign to me.

"It's not about whether it's a lot or not. It's about why the hell I'm busting my ass to pay for your life! Who even are you to me?" He glared at my notebook again, his jaw ticking as if his blood pressure was physically spiking.

"Then" I bit the inside of my cheek, fighting back the sting of tears, and just went for it. "If you don't have the money for a wife, just wait for me to grow up. How about that?"

His expression went dead cold. He stared at me in heavy silence for a solid thirty seconds. Finally, a harsh, disbelieving laugh ripped from his chest.

"What's so funny?"

"Do you even hear the absolute garbage coming out of your mouth? You're eighteen. I'm thirty-one. If I'd started early, I could literally be your father.

You believe me?"

A fresh wave of humiliation burned my cheeks, but I kept my voice deadpan. "Marcus is fifty-two."

"Cut the crap. You're not my type anyway. You're all skin and boneshugging you would probably stab me in the ribs. You owe me money, you pay me back.

Don't try to bullshit your way out of it."

"Beau." I reached up and touched the side of my head.

"What now?" He picked up his noodles, shooting me a highly impatient look.

"My head kind of hurts," I mumbled.

"Jesus women are a headache." He hooked a thick finger, gesturing me over. "Come here. Let me look."

I obediently leaned my head toward him.

His long, calloused fingers wove through my hair. His warm, broad palm firmly cradled the back of my head, and his deep, gravelly voice vibrated right next to my ear. "Skin's slightly broken. Probably a scrape from one of the cans.

It's not a big deal."

He pulled away, rummaged through a drawer, and slapped a Band-Aid over the scrape with practiced ease. Keeping my neck bent at that awkward angle was exhausting, so I just let my forehead drop, burying my face right against his muscular thigh.

"What the hell are you doing?" He gripped the back of my collar, instantly putting a few inches of distance between us.

"What did I do?" I blinked up at him, completely clueless.

"Do you have any idea what it looks like when a girl does that?"

"What does it look like?"

"Are you actually this oblivious, or are you just playing dumb?" He stared at me, the muscles in his jaw working as if he was swallowing down a lecture. "Forget it. You're not my kid.

I don't need to babysit you."

He finished pressing the edges of the Band-Aid down and gently but firmly pushed me away.

But a weird, unfamiliar warmth bloomed in my chest. He said he didn't need to babysit me, which meant he was worrying about me. The last person who worried about me was Marcus, and he threw me away. The person before that was my mom.

And she was dead.

Chapter 7

Halfway through my cup noodles, I looked up, dead serious. "Beau, I actually like you. I think you're a good guy."

He choked on a mouthful of noodles, violently coughing for a solid ten seconds before catching his breath. "Then you haven't seen enough of the world. You have no idea what I look like when I'm being bad."

"What does that look like?" Curiosity got the better of me.

He leaned in, his voice dropping an octave. "Your voice goes hoarse. Your back breaks. And you cry, regretting the day you ever met me.

Scared yet?"

The implication hit me like a freight train. Heat exploded across my cheeks. "Can you not say things like that?"

"You literally asked." A wicked, unapologetic smirk dragged across his mouth. He grabbed his noodles and walked off.

I swore on my life I was never speaking to him again.

Yet, at 2:00 AM, there I was. Clutching my pillow, standing right outside his bedroom door.

"What?" He had just stepped out of the shower, wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung gym shorts. He paused mid-towel-dry, catching sight of me in the doorway, and slowly lowered his arms.

"I'm scared." I pointed a shaking finger toward the window as another blinding flash of lightning tore through the sky.

"And?" He struck a lighter, illuminating the harsh angles of his face as he lit a cigarette, his dark eyes locking onto mine.

"Can I just stay in your room?" I practically choked on my remaining pride, begging him.

My setup was a lumpy sofa shoved into the corner of the living room, shielded by a ratty curtain strung up on a piece of twine. On a normal night, it was survivable. But with the thunder vibrating right through the floorboards, my nerves were completely shot.

He paused. A beat of heavy silence ticked by. Then, he sat on the edge of the mattress and patted the empty space right next to him. That signature, reckless smirk crawled back onto his face.

"Sure. Sleep right here."

"No, I'll just sleep on the floor." I scrambled to clarify.

"The floor? What kind of guy would I be if I made a girl sleep on the floor?"

"I really don't mind."

"Didn't you just say I was a good guy? Didn't you say you liked me? What the hell are you so terrified of?" His gaze swept over me, heavy and predatory.

"Besides, I haven't touched a woman in six months. I've had my share of flavors, but I've never tried a scrawny little thing like you. Come here. Let's test it out"

My brain flatlined. My vocal cords physically trembled. "I'm I'm barely eighteen."

He clamped the cigarette between his teeth, his smile turning dangerously wicked. "So what?"

"You!" The sheer audacity jammed my throat. I clutched my pillow like a shield and practically stumbled backward out the door.

His low, mocking laughter chased me down the hall, making my entire face burn with absolute humiliation.

The guy had zero moral boundaries. Scratch thathe didn't even know what morals were. And to think I'd actually called him a good guy. Fucking idiot.

I curled up into a tight ball on my corner of the sofa. Two massive, house-shaking cracks of thunder later, my sanity snapped. If I was going to die of a heart attack out here in the dark, I might as well march back in there and drag him to hell with me.

I gripped my pillow and shoved his bedroom door. It swung openunlocked.

The room was pitch black. Running purely on adrenaline, I marched straight to the bed, threw myself down, and yanked the heavy comforter all the way up to my chin in one fluid, reckless motion.

"What the fuck are you doing?" His harsh exhale ghosted right over my ear. My heart hammered against my ribs.

"Nothing. I'm sleeping."

"You sleeping in my damn bed? Is this where you belong?" His voice was a low, aggressive growl in the dark.

"You told me to sleep here!" I rolled over, facing him dead on.

In the suffocating darkness, the sheer mass of his body trapped the heat between us, leaving me with nowhere to pull back. All I could see was the faint, predatory gleam of his eyes locking onto mine, sending a violent tremor straight through my chest.

"You really have a death wish, don't you." Before I could process the threat, his massive, scorching arm snapped out and clamped tightly around my waist, dragging me flush against his hard torso.

My muscles instantly locked up like stone.

"You're stiff as a board. If you're terrified, get the hell out." His hot breath fanned across my collarbone.

"I'm not terrified." I forced the stubborn words out of my throat, but I didn't even dare to pull in a full breath.

"Then why are we sleeping?" The mattress shifted under his sudden, overwhelming weight. "Let's go."

Chapter 8

Let's go?

My brain flatlined. Eighteen years of a sheltered, invisible existence had severely underprepared me for whatever came next.

"Take the lead, kid. You're the one offering yourself up on a silver platter. You expect me to do all the work?"

In the suffocating darkness, the heavy silence practically screamed at me to fold, to run away. But a stubborn knot tightened in my chest.

Marcus's voice echoed in the back of my head, sharp and critical. "Flinching at shadows, terrified of your own reflection. How the hell did I produce such a spineless liability?"

Was this why I was the runt of the litter? Destined to be chewed up and spat out by the real world? Was this pathetic weakness the exact reason he packed up my twenty half-siblings, fled the country, and left me to drown without a second thought?

I knew I had to grow a spine. I knew it. But the sheer terror of stepping out of line had kept me paralyzed my entire life. That crushing, suffocating helplessness had been a dead weight on my chest for as long as I could remember.

But tonight? Tonight, I refused to be that pathetic, invisible ghost anymore.

I bit down hard on my jaw, my hands shooting out to fist the fabric of his collar. I violently yanked his massive frame down toward me and smashed my mouth recklessly against his burning lips.

The second the heat registered, a rough hand planted on my shoulder and forcefully shoved me back against the mattress.

"Fuck. You're actually serious."

Click.

The blinding overhead lights snapped on, searing my retinas. I squeezed my eyes shut against the sudden glare.

"Out." Beau clamped his large hand around my upper arm. The muscles in his jaw ticked violently, his dark eyes ablaze.

"No." I dug my heels in.

"This is my room. You sleep under my roof, you eat my food. Get this straightyou really think you have the luxury to say no?" He planted his hands on his hips.

The raw tension radiating off his massive frame made it abundantly clear he was half a second away from chucking me right out the window.

My exhausted brain violently seesawed between terrified he'll actually throw me and praying he just gets it over with. A quick drop, a sudden stop. Total, peaceful silence.

"I don't have rights. I've never had the right to say no!" The dam finally broke, hot tears blurring my vision. "I couldn't say no in that house.

I couldn't say no at school. Even when I was tossed out like trash, I didn't get a damn vote, Beau" A pathetic, broken sob tore from my throat. "I can't do this anymore. I just can't."

He froze, his broad shoulders tensing. Then the irritation flared right back up. "What kind of suicidal garbage are you spewing?"

"Marcus is gone. He's never coming back. Your money is gone, and I can't ever pay you back. He threw me away."

A heavy, suffocating silence blanketed the room. For one pathetic, delusional second, I thought he might actually offer some shred of comfort.

Instead, he stared me down cold. "If you're gonna off yourself, don't do it on my property."

The absolute lack of empathy was a physical slap to the face. The injustice of it all crushed my chest. I curled into myself, my entire body shaking with ugly, uncontrolled sobs.

"You gotta be kidding me. I lose my ten million, foot your bills for two months, and now I'm supposed to catch a murder charge because you croak in my apartment? What, did I owe your bloodline a massive debt in a past life?"

He ripped a crumpled cigarette from his pocket. He struck the lighter. Once. Twice.

It sparked but refused to catch. With a vicious curse, he chucked the metal lighter right at the wall.

"Then what do you want from me?" I choked out, my vocal cords raw.

"Pay off your debt first. Then we'll talk." An absolute, non-negotiable command.

Money. Always the damn money. Because of that imaginary tab, I couldn't even afford to die in peace. I gripped his expensive comforter, my knuckles turning white as I desperately tried to muffle my hitching breaths.

He aggressively yanked a spare blanket from the closet. "You take the bed. I'll sleep on the floor. Happy now?"

He spun on his heel, his dark mood practically radiating off him in waves.

"Beau."

"What now?"

"It's still thundering out there."

He let out a harsh, exasperated breath that ruffled his dark hair. "I swear to God, I am doing penance for my sins."

He kicked the spare blanket onto the hardwood floor, dropped his massive frame down with zero grace, and crossed his arms behind his head.

A long time passed. The violent shaking in my chest finally subsided, but sleep was impossible. I stared at the dark ceiling and tested the waters again.

"Beau."

"What is it now, princess?" His voice was thick, laced with pure exhaustion and annoyance.

"I've made up my mind."

"About what?"

"Tomorrow, I'm going out to make some money."

Chapter 9

He went completely silent. A low scoff vibrated in the dark. "Glad to see you've still got some drive in you. At least you're not a total deadbeat."

"I'm serious."

"Yeah, yeah, I know you're serious. Go to sleep. If you don't" He trailed off his threat, exhaling a heavy breath. "I swear, I don't know what to do with you."

He yanked the blanket over his head, ending the conversation.

Having a tangible goalpaying him backfelt like a lifeline. The crushing weight on my chest eased up just a fraction. Sleep finally dragged me under. And then came the dream.

A dream entirely hijacked by Beau.

I woke up before dawn. Panicked. Because in the dream, Beau had clamped his large, rough hand over mine, dragging my palm down the hard ridges of his abs. That wicked, predatory smirk had been plastered on his face.

"Is that all the nerve you've got? Go lower. Hmm?"

"Uncle."

"Yeah. Good girl. Do as you're told."

My dream-self had completely short-circuited, totally hypnotized by the raw heat radiating off his skin. I just blindly followed his orders.

I jolted awake, my skin slick with cold sweat. I snapped my eyes open, frantically scanning the room. The floor next to the bed was completely empty. Not even a crumpled blanket left behind.

A weird, hollow ache flared in my chest. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, my reflection stared back with cheeks flushed a violent, humiliating crimson. The guy had literally traumatized me into having inappropriate nightmares.

I threw myself into hyper-drive the second I got up: making breakfast, folding the covers, violently mopping the floors to scrub the dream from my brain. Beau had vanished at the crack of dawn. When he finally walked through the front door, his dark eyes narrowed as I practically jumped out of my skin, refusing to make eye contact.

After mentally hyping myself up, I marched over and shoved a sheet of notebook paper right against his chest. "This is my repayment plan. Look it over."

He grabbed it, zero interest on his face. His eyes skimmed my messy handwriting. "A hundred bucks to cook a meal? A hundred bucks to do laundry?

A hundred bucks to wash the dishes? A hundred bucks to run an errand?"

"How does it look?" I shifted my weight, suddenly hyper-aware of how absurd it sounded.

He slapped the paper down on the table, scoffing. "I don't even own a single piece of clothing that costs a hundred bucks, and you're charging that much to wash it? You've gotta be kidding me."

"Oh." The wind was completely knocked out of my sails. "That's the exact rate I used to get for my allowance at home. Is it really that unrealistic?"

"You're trying to hustle me using Marcus's pricing? What, do I look like your freaking dad?"

"You're my uncle. What's the difference?"

He let out a dry, sarcastic chuckle. "Right, Uncle. Now you remember to call me Uncle. With the stunt you pulled last night, I thought you were the one calling the shots."

He snatched the paper back up, practically waving the white flag. "Whatever. Do what you want. Not like I can argue with you anyway.

Push back, and you'll threaten to throw yourself off a bridge again. Unbelievable."

"Thanks, Uncle." I flashed him the most innocent, sugar-sweet smile I could muster.

He shot me a heavy, unreadable look. He choked down his breakfast in record time and grabbed his keys to head out.

"Can I come with you?" I blurted out.

He paused, his hand on the doorknob. "Why the hell would you follow me?"

"Whatever you're doing, I'll do it too."

"I'm going out to bust my ass to feed an ungrateful brat. What exactly are you gonna do?"

I was ninety percent sure that was a direct insult aimed at me.

"How do you make money? Can I get a summer job there?"

"I fix cars. You wanna fix cars?" An amused smirk played on his lips.

"Can't I wash them? I literally have nothing to do sitting here all day."

I had made up my mind. Rotting in this apartment, spiraling over why Marcus threw me away, wasn't going to fix anything. Sweating it out and making cash would. Plus, it would clear my massive debt a hell of a lot faster.

"Taking a kid to work" He dragged a hand down his face. "My crew is gonna roast me for a solid year." He gave me one last critical once-over, a self-deprecating scoff leaving his lips. "Let's go."

Chapter 10

"Change out of the skirt. As of today, skirts are permanently banned."

"Wait, why?"

"When the adults speak, the kids listen. Stop asking questions." He paused, his dark eyes locking onto mine. "That crew out there is a hell of a lot worse than me.

Keep acting like my words go in one ear and out the other, and you'll be the one crying later."

"Oh. Okay."

My immediate thought: There is literally no one worse than you. After the traumatizing nightmare he gave me last night, he was officially the absolute villain of my story.

Beau and his crew ran a gritty auto repair shop perched right on the edge of the scenic Pacific Coast Highway. The entire garage ground to a halt the second I walked in.

"Little Hazel! What brings you out here? Came to see me?" That was Earl.

Over the last two months, he had been a permanent fixture at the apartment's poker table.

"Screw off, Earl. Boss brought his little kept girl out for some fresh air. What's it to you?"

"Yeah, watch your mouth before the Boss buries you."

Beau shot them a lethal glare. "You guys allergic to your paychecks? Am I paying you to run a gossip column?"

The crew instantly zipped it.

"Back to work, boys," Earl muttered, then pulled out a stool. "Hazel, have a seat right here."

"I'm talking to you, too!" Beau barked, his jaw ticking.

Earl practically tripped over his own boots scrambling back to the bays.

"What are you staring at?" Beau turned, catching me analyzing his every move.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're terrifying?" I stood my ground. He was so aggressive that even his own crew was terrified of him.

"I'm delegating tasks. How is that terrifying? Who exactly do you think isn't terrifying?" He leaned down, a mocking smirk playing on his lips.

"Earl doesn't look terrifying." I kept my answer short, my survival instincts warning me not to push my luck.

"Then go follow him." He kicked an empty oil can out of his path and strode off.

I stood there, completely awkward, zero idea how I had just triggered him. Eventually, Earl pulled me aside and asked what I was trying to do. I told him I wanted to learn how to wash cars, so he tossed me a sponge. Compared to Beau, he was a thousand times more patient.

"Most of the guys here used to work construction under him," Earl explained as he showed me how to mix the soap. "When the contractor bailed and the paychecks bounced, Beau brought everyone back to his hometown. Opened this shop. He practically feeds this entire crew out of his own pocket.

He's a good man."

My hands froze. The sponge hit the soapy water. "That bounced paycheck was that the ten million Marcus owes him?"

Earl realized he had stepped on a massive landmine. His face paled, and he frantically held up both hands in defense. "Hey, your old man is your old man, and you are you. We were pushed into a corner back then.

Guys had families, medical bills people were desperate. But I swear to God, Boss never planned to actually hurt you."

"It's Marcus's fault." A cold, heavy stone dropped straight to the bottom of my stomach.

"Look, kid, don't beat yourself up over it. In the end, Boss liquidated everything he had to cover the guys' wages. He's still a little short, but not by much. That's why we're with him for life."

Earl offered a tight-lipped, reassuring smile.

My brain stalled out. My entire perception of Beau was built on that suffocating, rundown apartment and his rough, jagged edges. I genuinely thought he was flat broke. Broke enough to make me write down a $4.50 cup of instant noodles in a stupid notebook.

I never imagined he had drained his own bank accounts to keep his crew afloat. The guilt hit me like a physical blow.

Chapter 11

All morning, Earl patiently taught me the ropes, keeping a close eye to make sure I didn't get hurt. The other guys from the crew drifted over after finishing their bays, taking over all the heavy lifting so I wouldn't have to.

"Just treat it like a summer workout, Hazel. Don't sweat it too hard."

"Yeah, a girl like you shouldn't be messing with this dirty work anyway."

A while later, Earl hauled out a massive watermelon. He sliced it up and handed me the sweet center piece. Before passing it over, he aggressively wiped his grease-stained hands on his coveralls, flashing me a wide, gap-toothed grin. "Scrubbed 'em three times.

Not dirty, I promise."

"Thanks." I took the slice and took a tentative bite. "It's really sweet."

The crew erupted into a chorus of hearty laughter. A sudden, sharp sting hit the back of my nose. They were genuinely good people.

My gaze drifted to Beau. He was flat on a creeper underneath a busted sedan, wrenching on the undercarriage. He hadn't said a single word to me all morning. I grabbed a fresh slice and walked over.

"Hands are covered in grease. Eat it yourself." He didn't even slide out to look at me.

"I can feed it to you"

"I'm not"

Before he could finish brushing me off, I shoved the slice straight into his mouth. His face darkened instantly. Stray watermelon seeds and sticky pink juice smeared across his stubble. I swallowed hard, testing the incredibly dangerous waters.

"Is it sweet, Uncle?"

His dark eyes locked onto mine. The heavy silence stretched for several agonizing seconds. Finally, he looked away, his Adam's apple bobbing sharply as he forced the fruit down his throat. He opened his mouth to bite my head off

"Just one more bite?" Without waiting for an answer, I jammed the fruit against his lips again.

This time, I completely missed his mouth, smearing sticky red pulp all over his lethal jawline. I was officially the worst feeder on the planet. The murderous aura radiating off him spiked to a critical level.

"Hazel! Wipe this shit off!" he growled, a low, dangerous warning vibrating in his chest.

"Oh, I almost forgot. Earl needs me to help him wipe down the windshields. Be right back." I spun on my heel and practically bolted, clutching the ruined watermelon rind.

I sprinted back to Earl's bay, foolishly thinking I had escaped. Less than five minutes later, a massive, grease-stained hand clamped around my wrist, physically dragging me out of the crowd and straight into the back office.

"Uncle." My voice physically trembled.

"Growing some wings, kid? Think you can just walk all over me?" His massive frame completely boxed me in, casting a suffocating shadow over my much smaller body. "Wipe."

"I don't have a napkin," I whispered.

"I don't give a shit." An absolute, non-negotiable command.

"You" I ground my teeth. "Then bend down."

I slowly raised my hand. My index finger trembled slightly as it ghosted over the rough stubble of his jaw, carefully swiping away the sticky pink pulp.

He leaned down, bringing his face dangerously close. His dark, predatory eyes locked onto mine, tracking every microscopic twitch of my facial muscles. The oppressive heat of his body practically swallowed me whole. His heavy, uneven breaths fanned directly across the sensitive skin of my neck, sending an electric jolt straight to my frantic, overloading heart.

"You're too close, I can't breathe." Panic spiked in my veins. I shot my hands out, bracing my palms flat against the solid, immovable wall of his chest.

"What? Now you're dictating how I breathe? Is my oxygen intake offending you?"

"No, it's just you're making my heart beat too fast." I held my breath, the violent pounding against my ribs making me lightheaded.

He froze. He pulled back slightly, the suffocating tension breaking. "Heart's beating that fast over a few inches of space? Never been around a guy before?"

"I I don't know."

"You were practically glued to Earl's side out there. Calling him 'Uncle' left and right, letting him hold your hand to teach you. Didn't see you having a panic attack then." He let out a harsh, mocking scoff.

He ripped a rag from the hook, shoved it under the running faucet, and aggressively scrubbed the water over his face and through his dark hair.

"He's way older than me. Shouldn't I call him Uncle?"

"I'm way older than you too, but I don't hear you saying it with that much sugar. Always just Beau this and Beau that," he shot back, his tone dripping with dark, unapologetic sarcasm.

Chapter 12

"Then I'll strictly call you Uncle from now on," I quickly course-corrected.

"Don't. Stop. I can't stomach it." He roughly rubbed the towel through his dark hair and tossed it directly at my chest.

"Go wash it. Good girl."

The second those words left his mouth, my brain aggressively flashbacked to the dream. He had called me good girl right before he coaxed me into A violent flush burned all the way down to my neck. I snatched the damp towel and practically sprinted away.

After scrubbing the towel and forcing my heart rate back to a normal rhythm, I headed back out to the bays. This stretch of the PCH was practically in the middle of nowhere, but the shop saw surprisingly heavy traffic. A week flew by, and for the first time in my life, my days actually felt grounded. Flipping through my notebook, watching the logged hours and the dollar amount steadily climb, an unfamiliar rush of pure accomplishment hit my chest.

"Documenting every little thing. Are you five?" Beau scoffed from the doorway, catching me tallying numbers under the desk lamp.

"Marcus always said that slow people need to rely on their pens. It just became a habit." I shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze.

"Why is he always calling you slow? What, is he some kind of damn genius?" He paused, a dark, cynical chuckle leaving his chest. "Actually, yeah.

The guy's a freaking mastermind. Bails on a ten-million-dollar debt and drops off his kid to drain my bank account instead. Got to hand it to him, it's a flawless grift."

"I'm sorry." The apology tasted like ash. I carried the dead weight of Marcus's mess every single day, but I was completely powerless to fix it. If I ever saw him again, I'd get down on my knees and beg him to pay Beau back.

But would I ever even see him again?

"Know you messed up? Then stay exactly where you are, right by my side, and don't go anywhere." His large, calloused palm clamped forcefully onto the back of my head, giving it a heavy, possessive rub.

We both froze.

"What are you staring at? An elder can't pat a kid on the head?" He quickly masked the slip with his usual harsh bark.

I let out a shaky breath. "It's not that you can't. It's just Uncle, when you do things like that, I end up"

"You end up what?"

"Having dreams." The second the word left my mouth, my face caught fire.

In my eighteen years of existence, guys rarely ever made an appearance in my subconscious. My nightmares were almost exclusively Marcus screaming at me for being useless or messing up a chore. Dreaming about Beau this intensely and this often was a completely terrifying first.

"What kind of dreams? Am I in them?" His quick, piercing logic only made my cheeks burn hotter.

"Yeah." I gave a pathetic, honest nod.

"What did I do to you in them? Scream at you? Bully you?"

Bully me? I mentally replayed the exact details of the nightmare. Did his heavy hands and dark smirks count as bullying?

"I guess." I nodded, chewing on my lower lip.

"I've been feeding you for months, and you can't conjure up a single decent dream about me? Be honest. I bark at you, sure, but I've never laid a hand on you, right?" He actually looked offended, totally convinced of his own innocence.

Except, my definition of bullying in that dream was wildly different from what he was picturing.

"Am I really that much of a monster?" he asked, a lingering trace of genuine annoyance in his rough voice.

"Yes."

Because in the dream, when his predatory side took over, I completely melted. I had zero fight in me. The fact that my brain was violently supplying these images was a massive, frustrating problem.

The weird domestic bubble burst a few days later when a cherry-red BMW rolled into the lot. My mood took an immediate, aggressive nosedive. A woman stepped out of the driver's seat in designer heels, and Earl and the boys immediately started greeting her like she was the Boss's lady.

Chanel made a beeline straight for Beau. They vanished into the back office and stayed shut in there for the entire morning.

Later, out in the bays, Beau popped the hood of a sedan with one hand, his attention buried in the engine block as she followed him out. "What are you still doing here?"

"If I didn't come looking for you, were you just going to rot in this backwater town forever?" Chanel crossed her arms over her chest. Even behind her oversized designer sunglasses, her condescension was loud and clear.

"What the hell does it matter to you?" Beau didn't even bother looking up.

"I'm your girlfriend. You tell me why it matters." Frustrated by his total dismissal, she physically stepped right into his space, completely blocking his access to the engine bay.

Chapter 13

Earl grabbed my arm and pulled me aside, shaking his head. "They're going at it. Boss has it rough."

"They used to be together?" A sour, ugly knot tightened in my chest.

"Yeah. Boss was practically royalty back in the city, and Chanel comes from serious money. They were together for years. But when the project's funding tanked and Boss wanted to liquidate his own assets to pay our wages, Chanel flipped out.

That was the end of it." Earl rubbed the back of his neck, the guilt heavy in his voice. "We dragged him down. If it weren't for us, he would've been married by now.

Probably would've had kids running around."

The project funding again. Everything led right back to the mess Marcus left behind. But why did the thought of them getting back together make my stomach churn with pure acid?

"Does Beau still like her?" I pressed.

"I mean, he's gotta, right? It's been a year, and I haven't seen Boss look twice at another woman. We get gorgeous girls pulling up in luxury cars all the time, and he treats them like they're invisible. Hell, besides Chanel and you, nobody else has even set foot in his apartment."

Earl kept rambling, totally oblivious.

A hot, irritable prickle crawled up the back of my neck. Watching Beau actually stand there and talk to her sent a surge of raw, irrational anger straight to my head. A wire snapped in my brain. I grabbed a heavy metal toolbox and marched right over.

Earl tried to yank me back, but I tore out of his grip.

Just as I closed the distance

"Beau, can you honestly look me in the eye and swear you haven't missed me this past year? Did you just erase everything we had?" Chanel reached out and locked her manicured fingers onto his wrist.

My boots halted on the concrete. Beau's dark eyes flicked up. He caught sight of me, a subtle shift crossing his face.

"No. It's been a year. You're ancient history." The words were flat, completely stripped of any warmth.

"You're a liar. I haven't forgotten. The way your voice went rough when you called my name I'll remember that feeling for the rest of my life."

The ambient noise of the garage completely flatlined, leaving a deafening ring in my ears. The mental image of them tangled up together hit me like a physical punch to the ribs. My nails dug fiercely into my palms.

"Chanel, don't touch me." Beau violently shoved her hand away, a flash of pure disgust in his eyes. Without missing a beat, he closed the distance between us in two long strides, his heavy hand clamping onto my arm as he forcefully pulled me behind his massive frame. "Who told you to come out here?"

"Earl told me to bring you the toolbox," I lied straight through my teeth.

He let out a harsh breath, his sharp edges dulling a fraction. "Go back to the office. I don't need it. Go on."

Chanel's head snapped toward us. Her gaze locked onto me, immediately turning venomous. "Who is that?"

"Just a kid." Beaus tone was dripping with impatience.

"So this is why you haven't called me in a year? Because you've been playing house with some little sidepiece?" Chanels voice shrilled.

"She has nothing to do with this." Beau physically nudged my shoulder, trying to herd me away, but my boots stayed glued to the floor.

"You're shielding her like her life depends on it, but she has nothing to do with this? Please. The red flags are everywhere, Beau. You know exactly who I am.

I don't play nice. Anyone who tries to steal what's mine is going to pay for it."

"I dare you to try." Beaus voice dropped into a lethal, vibrating register. He tossed his wrench onto the concrete, its loud clatter cutting through the tension. He wrapped his large hand tightly around my wrist and dragged me straight back to the office, leaving her standing alone in the bay.

Chanel threw a screaming fit out on the floor for another few minutes. Beau shoved me into the back office and locked the door behind us. "Stay put. The woman is unhinged."

"Do you like her? Uncle?" I stared directly into his dark eyes.

"That's none of your business."

"Why isn't it my business?" I shot back.

"Who exactly are you to me for it to be your business? You're a kid. Stay in your lane and let the adults handle their own mess." He dragged a heavy hand down his face, looking utterly drained.

"When I grow up, will it be my business then?" I asked, my voice deadly serious.

He just stared at me. The room fell into total silence.

Chapter 14

"Uncle?" I called out softly.

"We'll see."

He fell silent. A sour, heavy knot tightened in my chest. My brain completely short-circuited. Driven by some reckless, uncontrollable impulse, I rose up on my tiptoes, leaning in to kiss him.

But before my lips could even brush against his, his massive hand shot out, clamping like a vice around my wrist. With a violent shove, he pinned me hard against the wooden door at my back. His heavy, ragged breaths fanned across my face. "Do you have any idea what the hell you're doing?"

Reality crashed down on me. My heart hammered against my ribs. "I I nothing."

"I don't know." I instantly shrank back.

"Don't start fires you can't put out. Just because you're a kid doesn't mean you get a free pass to do whatever the hell you want." He dropped the absolute warning, aggressively striking a lighter to light his cigarette. He turned on his heel, walked out, and slammed the office door shut behind him.

He was pissed. My reckless stunt had actually caught him off guard. A wave of sick guilt washed over me. I stood locked in that office for a long time, staring blankly at the wall.

I couldn't wrap my head around it. Why did my body move on its own? Why was there this sudden, aggressive, suffocating urge to claim him as mine? But the facts were crystal clear: he had rejected me, and he was furious.

Total, absolute defeat settled into my bones.

Half an hour later, I finally forced my breathing to steady and walked back out to the bays. Beau was gone.

The crew was huddled together, gossiping.

"He headed out with Chanel."

"Yeah, Boss definitely isn't coming back to the shop today."

"Why not?" I blurted out.

"Why do you think? They haven't seen each other in a solid year. He won't have the energy to drag himself back here."

"Looks like they're actually getting back together this time."

The whole crew erupted into a chorus of raucous laughter. I stood frozen, a cold, sickening numbness spreading across my scalp.

"Hey, Hazel's right here. Tone down the dirty jokes, will ya?" Earl warned them, totally convinced I was just blushing from embarrassment.

He was dead wrong. It wasn't embarrassment. It was raw, burning jealousy