3

It was exhilarating to watch the dawning horror wash over Harlow Winter's face as Lucien Thorne stepped up to the bar, knowing that all of his carefully laid plans the past several years were finally coming to fruition.

Typically he wasn't a fan of frightening women. He might have built his reputation in the last decade on pain, torture, murder and shady business dealings, but he didn't enjoy terrifying those weaker than him.

And he had always considered women more innocent than the sick fucks he dealt with on a daily basis, even if some of the women he encountered did associate with all manners of the Chicago underworld.

He'd made an exception for Harlow though, and he relished the small choked noise that spilled from her throat when his eyes met hers from across the bar.

The man she was clinging to, Raider, was irrelevant. As were the enforcers of the Devil's Guardians that were lurking throughout the club, shooing away whatever patrons remained until it was just Lucien and his new associates.

They'd been keeping tabs on him since he entered this shitty strip club, wary of the larger predator that had wandered into their midst, but he could have told them all that attempting to stop what came next would be useless.

Lucien always got what he wanted. And he wanted her.

On top of that, this MC owed him hundreds of thousands of dollars and a favor for his assistance in wiping out a rival gang several months back; they wouldn't risk his wrath for one woman, especially one that was unclaimed in their world.

But he'd come here tonight ready for pushback with his plan. It was why he'd ensured this club owed him before he put everything into motion. And now he was ready to cash in his favor.

Lucien should have moved his gaze elsewhere, but it was impossible for him to look away from Harlow and all that she represented. He was so close to moving in on the final part of his plan, and his golden ticket was right in front of him.

Her hair was shorter than he'd been expecting, so she must have recently cut it. And while the black strands fit in nicely with the tattoos he's seen scattered across her luscious body, her face was too angelic and the color was too dark for her. Too rough for her porcelain face and her delicate features.

Maybe he'd make her change it to blonde.

She was even more beautiful in person, which made him despise her more than he had before meeting her. He didn't want to be tempted by her, but now it was too late.

Full, pouty lips that were made to suck a cock, high cheekbones, perfectly sculpted eyebrows that let him know that even though she'd been parading herself around as a biker whore for years, she'd always be too classy to dwell as one forever.

Not that it would matter by the time he was through with her.

Now that he'd met her, scented her, felt her dripping cunt and learned a bit of what she craved sexually, Lucien could already feel the lines around his plan blurring, blending and reforming to suit this newly growing need inside of him.

He hadn't planned on fucking her initially, just taking her, but he supposed there was a bit of torment to be had by making her reliant on him sexually, emotionally, and then ripping the rug out from under her before he fed her to the wolves.

His fists clenched at his sides at the thought.

Yes, that's what he would do.

Harlow trembled behind the biker, and a deep seated viciousness nearly had Lucien breaking his careful façade of indifference. He had hoped, based on what he'd learned of her and from their prior interaction in the private room, that she would have some sort of backbone. That she'd fight what happened next.

He wouldn't enjoy this as much if she morphed into a frail woman before he even had a chance to break her.

"I apologize for the confusion, Lucien," Raider began, his usual carefree smile dropping into a frown as Harlow's fist clenched around the back of his cut. "Harlow's a good girl, man. She wouldn't have shown you such disrespect if I'd properly explained things to her."

Lucien tilted his head, assessing him. Some of the bikers that were still seated around the strip club even began to stand, a pathetic show of force that was intended to intimidate him.

It didn't.

"So the fault lies with you and your club? She stole from me. Disrespected me. But it's your MC I should take out my displeasure on?"

Raider stiffened, and Lucien nearly smirked as the implications began to sink in for the biker.

"I do not want any further issue with you than what's gone on tonight," Lucien continued tiredly. "I came here to celebrate the solidification of my alliance with your club, but I won't allow anyone to disrespect me. I would hate to make your club my enemy over so simple a fix."

The lies slid off of his tongue easily. Now all he had to do was play his cards right and he would be leaving with her and keeping his newly formed alliance with the MC. By the look of resignation that passed over Raider's face, Lucien knew he had the man right where he wanted him.

And by extension, Harlow.

"What can I do to make this right?" Raider asked.

"Gift her to me."

"What?" Harlow exclaimed, popping out from behind the biker to glare at Lucien.

He met her stare, holding it far longer than he anticipated before her light blue eyes shifted from his, settling on his lips instead.

"I want a gift. You."

Her eyes widened, the beautiful blue filling up her face before she huffed in frustration. "No fucking way, asshole!"

"Harlow!" Raider snapped her name like a curse, running a hand down his face before addressing Lucien. "I don't speak for the club. We hold a vote for serious decisions and Harlow is property of the Devil's Guardians. I can't give her to you without talking to my prez."

Harlow's mouth dropped open in shock and her eyes widened with hurt. She'd probably been expecting some grand gesture of protection from the man.

But she should have realized that in this game between Lucien and the MC, she was only a pawn to be sacrificed.

"You can't be serious, Raider. You're my family. You all are," Harlow exclaimed quietly, taking a small step back from the biker and looking around at the men who barely met her gaze.

Lucien shook his head. "I won't be leaving here without taking her. You can tell your president that by agreeing to this, the favor owed to me is resolved. I'll even knock off fifty thousand of what is left of your repayment if you agree to this right here and now."

Harlow sucked in a breath, steeling her spine before she looked back at Lucien.

Her fury fed the rage that always lived inside of him, and for one small moment, Lucien actually felt sated.

"Deal," another biker said, slowly stepping forward. His name was Deke, and as Vice President, he seemed to be making an executive decision on behalf of his club.

Excellent.

Harlow was visibly shaking as Lucien and Deke spoke quietly among themselves, but it wasn't fear that had her entire body trembling.

It was anger. Hate.

Maybe she'd be harder to break than he previously thought.

He hoped so.

Harlow couldn't fucking believe this. She was so mad she was shaking, and each time Lucien fucking Thorne met her gaze, she wanted to kill him. To strangle him with her bare hands.

It was the smug look in his eyes that really set her off, not just the fact that he'd bartered for her like he might a piece of meat at the butcher's.

And the fact that it had worked? That Raider had just rolled over and showed his belly to this guy?

That just made everything worse.

She was so angry and hurt that she didn't even feel scared by whatever the hell being 'gifted' to the kingpin of Chicago even meant.

What, like she was his personal whore now? He got a little sneak peek and now he wanted more?

He could have just asked! But men like him didn't ask permission, they took what they wanted.

It was how he was so powerful, and why everyone was afraid of him. She should have been too, she knew that.

But all Harlow wanted to do was spit in his face and tell him to fuck off.

And for that matter, Raider could fuck off too. They'd been friends for years, and his half assed attempt to protect her was just that; half ass.

Harlow wanted to scream at them all, to tell them they were pathetic, but she held her tongue.

Logically, she knew Raider had done all he could for her by lying to Lucien, even though this whole thing was because of him not being open with her about who she was dry humping in private.

Raider might have claimed she was 'property' of the Devil's Guardians, but she didn't actually belong to anyone within the MC. Technically she was just a hang around that they all protected.

And now she belonged to The Devil of Chicago.

Harlow didn't bother to listen to Lucien's deep, sexy voice as he and Deke discussed the finer details of her new life.

Instead, she fled to the changing rooms, ignoring the slew of strippers that were all lingering on the other side of the changing room door.

They scattered like a bunch of roaches when the light came on, most of them pretending they hadn't been heavily eavesdropping on the entire fiasco out front.

Only Dove stood near her as the door shut firmly, biting her lip when Harlow raised a brow.

She expected the other woman to make some biting comment, to make her feel even worse.

But all Dove did was slap a piece of paper into Harlow's palm and give her a sad look. "You call me if you need anything, you understand?"

Harlow's mouth tightened into a fine line to keep it from trembling as she nodded her thanks.

She was in such a horrible spot if her arch nemesis Dove was being friendly with her.

God, what had she gotten herself into?

Harlow practically stomped over to one of the lockers lined up on the far wall, ripping open the metal door as her panic grew.

She never should have stolen that watch. She'd thought Raider's comment to her beforehand was odd, but she hadn't even bothered questioning him.

And now she'd cum all over Lucien Thorne's fingers and then licked them clean.

Men like him ruined women like her, and she didn't want to find out what he wanted from her, or why he sought to essentially buy her.

It had to be over more than a watch. Right?

Maybe if she just got the hell out of here while Lucien was distracted, she could make a clean getaway and start over somewhere new. Harlow had done it once. She could do it again.

She ripped off her clothes and shoes as a terrible plan formed, quickly dressing in a pair of black leggings, a tank top and a pair of ballet flats.

How far away was O'Hare airport? She had plenty of cash on her, courtesy of her job. She also had a few acquaintances in Boston, maybe she could contact one and see about accommodations. Maybe even a job until she could move somewhere else.

Harlow might be able to just lay low until Lucien lost interest, which would probably be soon.

A twinge of guilt pricked at her stomach as she tossed her uniform into her locker, slamming the door closed.

How much trouble would this cause the Guardians when she fled in the night like a coward?

Harlow shook her head, angry with herself for caring so much about the hell the MC would face when she left. Maybe since they'd already agreed to sell her off like cattle, Lucien wouldn't hold them responsible when she ran away.

Not allowing herself another minute to question her decision, Harlow booked it out the back entrance that led to the alleyway, breathing a sigh of relief when no one was lurking just outside the door.

Some nights, if a client enjoyed the performances a little too much, they would linger just outside, hoping to 'entice' a dancer to spend the night with them. It would work better if they just paid, nearly every stripper here did a little side hustle every now and then, but guys like that assumed they could get with a stripper off of charm alone.

Harlow side-stepped a puddle as she turned a corner, not wanting to ruin her thin shoes, and slammed directly into someone.

Strong hands grabbed her biceps, steadying her as she swayed on her feet from the impact. She stiffened as she caught the delectable scent that was now practically engraved in her mind.

"Going somewhere, princess?" The words were like heated velvet as Lucien's voice wrapped around her, and Harlow hung her head.

Son of a bitch.