Making the King: A dark forced marriage romance (The Cruz Kings MC)

Chapter 2

The first thing hitting me as I wake up is how disgusting my mouth tastes, like, seriously gross. The second is that I’m naked and alone. The third thing is the fucking birds chirping and the sun that feels like it’s baking me from the inside out.

I groan as I sit up to look around. Ugh, am I… why the hell am I outside on the lawn? This makes no sense whatsoever. I know I was drunk as a freaking skunk when I left Cassie’s party, but that doesn’t explain why I would end up back here.

As I look around, I notice I’m next to the pool house, which is at the back of our property, meaning I’d have to have walked all the way around the house, and by the pool to get here. Not a logical walk by any stretch of the imagination.

And why does my mouth taste so foul? This isn’t merely a ‘hey, I forgot to brush my teeth after drinking’ taste. No, it’s salty and… ugh. I need to get my ass out of here and back in the house. Preferably without being seen.

Since the bright light is hurting my eyes, I mentally make a priority list of what I need. My dress, which I find next to me on the ground and quickly put on. Then I look around for my handbag, and shoes, which aren’t anywhere to be found. Oh, there is footwear, alright. But those ghastly, worn, black flip-flops aren’t mine. And I sure as fuck didn’t wear them last night with my newest designer dress.

“What the hell?” I murmur to myself.

Fuck it.

Fuck. It. All.

After correcting the spaghetti straps on my silver sequin dress, I stand up on wobbly legs. Jesus, I’m resembling a baby deer as I stumble around in search of my bag. When I feel nauseous from bending, I give up and, with a sigh, I pick up the horrendous footwear.

No way am I putting those on my feet, but I also don’t want to leave them here in case mom notices. Sure, I could blame it on the pool cleaner or gardener, but somehow I don’t think she’ll believe these belong to either, since they’re both middle-aged men.

With the flip-flops in hand, because I’d rather step barefoot on dirt than wear those atrocities, I make my way across the lawn back to the main house, walking as close to the surrounding bushes as possible so I can’t be seen from the kitchen since it’s facing our garden. I have no idea what time it is, so I don’t want to risk mom or dad being awake yet. Ugh, or Leslie, my annoying little sister.

Luckily, I manage to make it all the way to the front door without being seen, and that’s where the next issue arises. Without my bag, I don’t have my keys. One glance at my reflection in the window next to the door confirms my suspicion. I look like someone doing the dreaded walk of shame after a night of debauchery.

My makeup is smeared, and… ew! There’s even some dried drool at the corner of my mouth. I don’t recall ever being this much of a mess after a party at Cassie’s. Did someone slip me something?

While I did indeed indulge in alcohol, I’ve never touched drugs, and I don’t remember having sex with anyone. I may have kissed one of the guys who kept grinding against me on the dancefloor, but I’m pretty sure that’s all.

“Admiring yourself, Princess?”

My breath hitches, and my heart beats rapidly as I whirl around to see who spoke. “Oh, it’s you,” I sneer as I look at the jerk.

Grayson Black, or as I like to call him, the thorn in my fucking side. God, I hate the trademark smirk he’s wearing, like nothing gives him greater pleasure than riling me up. Actually, I can’t think of a single thing from his dark waves to his black boots that doesn’t irk me. And don’t even get me started on the cancer-stick hanging between his lips.

The big bad biker, VP of the Cruz Kings MC. Also, dad’s newest business venture. For the past few months or so, dad has worked as an accountant to the MC. I still remember how shocked I was when he announced the news during dinner, acting like it was nothing. Maybe it wasn’t, because mom never said anything, only smiled as she refilled their wine glasses, making it a non-issue. It just was.

As their accountant, he’s… an asset. My nose scrunches at the word. It sounds so cold, like he isn’t worthy of being a valued person. But that’s what I’ve heard Grayson and Gunner call him plenty of times, when they’re bitching about being on ‘babysitting duty’ as they call it.

“What’s it to you?” I sneer.

I really don’t like Grayson. Unlike Gunner, he seems to go out of his way to antagonize me. Never happy to just watch from afar like I’m sure he’s supposed to. Well, in the beginning, he did. But after I found him having cookies and lemonade with Leslie one afternoon, I threw the biggest fit, screaming at him until he left.

Honestly, I might give my sister a hard time, but that doesn’t mean I want these thugs taking advantage of her na?vety. I know men like him, and there’s no way he’s only interested in sitting across from her while talking about her favorite music.

Disgusting prick.

I’m just about to turn my back to him when I notice my bag dangling from his hand. Narrowing my eyes, I point at the silver Mulberry, and say, “Resorting to petty theft now, are we?”

I loathe the smirk he sends my way. “Oh, this?” He lifts the bag further up so it’s dangling in front of his face. “Didn’t steal it, Princess. I found it.”

Shaking my head, I scoff. “And where, pray tell, did you find it? Because I can see from here, it’s an original Mulberry bag. No knockoff can make the stitching that perfect. So you might as well give it back before I tell my dad you’re touching my things.”

Grayson’s eyes darken with… it’s not anger. I don’t know him well enough to read his expressions, but I’m pretty sure he’s amused. “Ahh, the things of yours I’ve touched, Princess.” He chuckles darkly, making sure I know it’s an innuendo.

As if I’d ever willingly let him touch anything of mine.

“But since this isn’t really my color, you might as well have it back.”

I barely catch the bag with one hand as he tosses it to me with an infuriating smile. A smile that hints of dirty secrets.

“Fuck you,” I mumble.

Then I turn my back on him, and without saying another word, I find my keys and let myself into the house. Once inside, I don’t waste time on trying to decipher what Grayson was hinting at. Instead, I bolt up the stairs to my bedroom as quickly and quietly as possible.

I breathe a sigh of relief as I find my phone in my bag along with my keys—even the credit card and emergency cash are still there. Hmm, so maybe Grayson didn’t steal my bag. All that wouldn’t be here if he did, right?

Since I don’t want to take him at his word, I scrutinize the lining and stitching of the inside of my beloved handbag, making sure he hasn’t tricked me with a cheap knockoff. But no, sure enough, this is an original—almost one of a kind. Okay, five thousand of a kind, but still. That’s pretty damn rare.

Leaving the bag on my bed, I head to my walk-in wardrobe. “What the hell?” I murmur, confused as to why the stilettos I wore last night are placed neatly in front of the double-doors.

Seriously, how much did I drink last night? I don’t understand why I would walk in here, leave my shoes only to walk back outside, and then pass out behind the pool house.

With an angry shake of my head, one I regret as soon as it feels like someone is holding my temples in a vice-like grip, I let out a frustrated huff and head towards the shelves with my PJs.

I manage to ignore any mirrors or shiny surfaces for as long as it takes to find my clothes and shower. With my hair wrapped in a turban and another towel covering my body, I finally study myself in the mirror. With the caked makeup gone, I look like myself. My blue eyes aren’t as shiny as usual, but I guess that’s to be expected since I still have no idea what time it is. All I know is it feels like it’s too early to function.

Brushing my teeth has never felt so good. Ever. I swear, with each brush stroke, I could feel the disgusting coat disappear, leaving behind the minty freshness of my toothpaste.

After dressing in my light blue sleeping shorts and top, I gather the evidence of last night, i.e. the dress I wore and… wait a fucking second. Now, I know I didn’t wear a bra because it’s not that kind of dress. But how the hell didn’t I notice my panties have gone missing? I’m pretty sure I didn’t take them off before I showered.

I just about tear the bathroom apart, looking everywhere for the small scrap of fabric. I even go as far as to look in the drawers and on the shelves with my beauty products, needing to make sure I haven’t accidentally placed them there while making myself more human after washing the filth of a night sleeping outside from my body.

A knock on the door interrupts my frantic searching.

“Are you done soon? I need the bathroom.”

Ugh, Leslie’s whining is not helping the building headache.

“Go use one of the other ones,” I snip, not in the mood to deal with my sister.

“Come on, Zoe. You’ve been in there for over an hour.”

I have? It doesn’t feel like it.

Not wanting to gain the attention of our parents, I roll my eyes and gather the soiled dress before unlocking and opening the door.

“Here you go, brat.”

Leslie eyes me warily. “Why are you always so mean?”

Her weakness makes me bristle. I’m not being mean to her, I just don’t have time for her or the rose-colored glasses she sees the world through. I swear, I’m just waiting for her to bring a homeless guy or a three-legged dog to our house.

“I’m not being mean,” I sing-song while ruffling her hair that’s already resembling a bird’s nest. “I’m simply preparing you for real life.”

“Fudge you,” she retorts, like her faux swear holds any fire. “I’m only three years younger than you, so it’s not like I need a life lesson from you.”

Rather than wasting my breath arguing, I head into my room and slam the door behind me. After throwing the dress on the floor in my walk-in wardrobe, I retrieve my phone and throw myself onto the bed.

I send Cassie a quick text, asking if I left the party with anyone, before I switch to Instagram. Surely there’ll be evidence of whatever happened to me there. Neither me nor my friends have accounts under our real names, because no one wants parental snooping. But there are usually a lot of pictures after a party like last night.

It only takes a bit of scrolling before I come across what I’m looking for. Sadly, none of which answers the pool house mystery. Yawning, I decide to let it go when a notification of a new text pops up, and I immediately tap it.

A video plays of me, on my knees… and I’m… I’m… well, there’s no delicate way to describe the scene playing out in front of me. I’m sucking someone off. Something I’ve never done before.

There is no sound, but before the image zooms in on the dick and my face, making it impossible to discern who it is, I can see the grass I’m kneeling on. It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together. I’m behind the pool house… where I woke up not too long ago.

Just before the video ends, there’s a distorted voice. “I’d rather hear those choking sounds.”

It’s embarrassing how many times I replay the disgusting video, looking for clues as to who’s behind this. But apart from a pair of black boots in the background, directly behind the man I’m blowing, there’s nothing. Fucking Unknown Number.

I pull the pillow from under my head and hold it firmly over my mouth as I scream into it. What in the ever loving fuck is happening? All thoughts about sleep are forgotten, and I stomp into the wardrobe and pull a random summer dress from the hanger.

It takes me less than an hour before I’m fully dressed, my long, wavy hair is gathered in a high ponytail, and I’m wearing enough makeup to hide how rattled I am.

Downstairs, I bump into dad in the kitchen, and it takes all my strength to feign a cheery greeting.

“Good morning, Zoe. Are you joining us for breakfast?” he asks jovially.

I give him half a wave before darting past him, yelling over my shoulder. “Can’t. I have something to do.”

“Don’t forget it’s family day today, Zoe.”

I almost run into mom as she comes into view.

“Yeah, but—”

She shakes her head. “No buts, Zoe. We all agreed to make more of an effort. So go take care of whatever it is you need to do, and then we can all have lunch together by the pool.” The need to argue hovers at the back of my mind, but before I can think of what to say, mom carries on. “If you really can’t spare some time to be with us, you should be studying. You’re eighteen now, and high school is almost over. Harvard isn’t a place for slackers.”

I hate that she’s throwing my early acceptance into the Ivy League college in my face like that. But just because I dislike it, doesn’t mean she’s wrong. The imminent move from Santa Cruz, California to Cambridge, Massachusetts, is the reason mom decided we need to have family time every Sunday.

While simmering over mom’s words, I look out the glass next to the front door. Of course, Grayson is there, right where I saw him earlier. Only, this time, he isn’t smirking. If anything, he looks downright furious. Maybe I shouldn’t care, but it’s giving me the much needed strength to embrace family day.

I may not be able to prove it, but my instinct tells me that Grayson has something to do with the vile video on my phone. All I can do now is pray he isn’t the owner of the nice-looking cock.

“Let’s do it,” I say, smiling warmly at mom.

In true Miller fashion, we have a big breakfast while we each talk about how our week has been. As per usual, mom’s highs involve me and Leslie, and her low is that I’m leaving home at the end of summer.

“This is why we need to make the best of the time we have left living under the same roof. Don’t get me wrong, honey. I can’t wait to see you soar. But this…” Trailing off, she points at each of us. “This time is special, and none of us should take it for granted. One day you’ll look back and wish time didn’t move so fast.”

A few tears fall from her eyes, making their way halfway down her cheeks before she wipes them away. Seeing her this happy and emotional has me feeling bad for almost blowing my family off to go demand answers from Grayson. And for my earlier behavior towards Leslie. I should probably apologize to her, but I don’t. I can always do that tomorrow.

“My high is right now,” I hear myself say, surprised that I mean it. “My low is studying for my finals.”

There’s no way I can tell them my low is that I’m apparently starring in some kind of distasteful amateur porn.

Dad’s high is today, and his low is that he has to leave us for a few days due to his business with the Cruz Kings. Although we all know he works for them, he’s very secretive about what it all entails. To me, that can only mean one thing, the work he’s doing isn’t above board. Not that I care, at least not as long as he’s discreet.

“My high was my horseback riding lesson the other day,” Leslie says proudly. “I jumped higher on Kaya than I have before.”

I smile as she avidly explains about her lesson, and how the other students and even the teacher clapped.

“They even mentioned she might get an award,” mom says, proudly.

Dad smiles warmly. “If you get one, we’ll frame it and put it on your trophy shelf.”

For hours, we do nothing but sit there and talk about everything under the sun. Mom and I share our thoughts on how I should decorate my dorm room at Harvard, and Leslie keeps talking about wanting my room when I move out.

“Should we move out to the pool?” mom suggests when it’s a little after noon.

We all agree, and after getting changed into the blue bikini that perfectly matches my eyes, I plop down next to dad and Leslie on the sunlounger that really should have my name on it.

I try to ignore the feeling of being watched, but it’s impossible. Even though there’s no trace of anyone else, I can feel Grayson nearby. Call it an asshole sense if you want, whatever it is, having him close to my vicinity makes me annoyed, whether I can see him or not.

With a huff, I turn onto my back and close my eyes. I’m determined to enjoy the time with my family. It doesn’t take long before the soothing sound of mom flipping the pages of her magazine and the soft jazz Leslie is playing lulls me to sleep.

I startle awake as something wet hits my skin. “What the hell?” I shriek, scrambling to sit up. “Leslie!” I can’t see my sister, but it has to be her.

“I’ve been called many things, Princess. But a girl’s name isn’t one of them,” Grayson drawls before throwing more water from the pool onto my heated skin.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I growl.

Looking around, I’m surprised my family isn’t here anymore.

“Don’t be an ass,” Gunner says as he strolls towards us. “Your mom, dad, and Leslie went to buy ice cream. They wanted to wake you up, but we promised to look out for you.”

The glare he sends in Grayson’s direction is downright lethal, and I can’t help grinning as he winks conspiratorially at me.

“So why are you here?” I ask, making sure to put as much attitude as possible into the words. “You don’t have to be next to me.”

“That’s what I said,” Gunner easily agrees.

Grayson shakes his head and flips his club brother off. “But where’s the fun in hiding? After all, I’ve seen what you’re hiding beneath those scraps of fabric you call a bikini.”

I immediately bristle. “I knew it was you,” I hiss. “You’re a fucking psycho.”

Standing up, I plant my hands on my hips, doing my best to stare him down. Something that becomes much harder as he straightens to his full height, towering over me. I hate that Grayson is actually good looking. Someone like him should be covered in warts, and not walk around in an enticing exterior.

“You sent me that video, didn’t you? Do you enjoy recording yourself? Does it make you feel like a man?” I spit.

Grayson doesn’t answer me. Instead, he just slowly looks up and down my body while licking his lips.

“Come on, let’s go back,” Gunner says, sounding like he feels sorry for me.

I can’t say I welcome his pity, but if it gets Grayson far, far away from me, I’ll take it. I’m way too tired and hungover to deal with that prick. Besides, knowing he’s taken advantage of me while I wasn’t aware, that shit stings.

“Yes,” I seethe. “Best run along before someone finds out what you did to me.”

Grayson merely raises an eyebrow. “What I did to you? Oh, no, Princess. You fucking enjoyed what I did to you. Don’t come crying now just because I didn’t stick around to spoon afterwards.”

I rear back at his open dismissal. Fuck, I didn’t expect him to admit to anything, let alone turn it around.

Looking at Gunner, I’m surprised that he looks torn—between what I have no idea. That’s just what he looks like to me.

“Fuck this,” I huff.

Not wanting to deal with either of them, I pick up the few things I brought outside with me, and disappear into the house. I refuse to admit to myself that I’m hiding. No, this is just a strategic retreat until I have the brainpower to deal with Grayson.