MEGAN

Chapter 3

Megan

Ms. Jones,

Why are you doing this to me? Why are you ignoring my letters?

Is it because of her, that long-nailed, blond bitch I saw you leave the club last night with? Did you play with her?

What does she have that I don't? Is she prettier? Slimmer? Is it her hair? Is it because she is a woman?

I can change if that's what you want... I could lose weight or dye my hair... I'll do anything, anything you want.

All I want, all I've ever wanted, was to please you... Please...

Please, don't do this... Don't make me do something we'll both regret... All you have to do is reach out, and I'll be yours forever...

Your Slave, Ashton

Megan put down the piece of pink paper, running her hands over her face as Ashton's words swam behind her closed eyes.

The all-too-familiar dread was steadily brimming beneath her skin as she cursed herself for being so stupid.

She kept thinking about that month she had spent with him and how excited she had been in the beginning. Ashton had been new in the Club, a recently approved member, and the most beautiful man Megan had ever seen.

All he had to do was bat his eyes once in her direction, and she was on him in a second. They spent that night together, and almost every night after it, Megan letting go for the first time in her life and actually feeling something after the act.

But then, about a month into the relationship, it started: the checking-ins, the jealousy, the hysterical phone calls in the middle of the night.

Megan had tried to assure him that there was nothing to worry about and that she only had eyes for him, but she soon grew tired of his antics and ended the relationship when he caused a scene in the Club so big that people still laughed behind Megan's back at the memory of it.

So, she broke up with him and thought that that would be the end of it, but she was wrong. The midnight calls persisted, followed by a barrage of text messages and then finally letters once Megan had changed her phone number.

The one she was currently holding in her hands was the latest of them, full of nonsensical blubbering.

The sound of the knocker falling against the door suddenly echoed through the house, pulling Megan out of her thoughts, and she stood up with a heavy sigh and started to make her way to the front door.

She didn't usually have to do that by herself, seeing as she had a housekeeper for such things, but after what happened two days ago, she had given the poor woman a much-deserved vacation, leaving her alone in the house.

She checked her appearance in the big mirror hanging on the wall next to the door, frowning at the big purplish marks underneath her eyes and noticing that her hair was in disarray from how much she had been running her hands through it.

She tried to fix it as fast as she could, unable to do anything about the bags under her eyes, until the knocker sounded off again.

She gave up at that point and grabbed the handle, schooling her face into a welcoming mask in the process, which was a good thing since the moment she opened the door, her stomach flipped at the sight that greeted her.

Standing on the other side was a very tall, well-built man with a look of irritation written plainly across his face.

His pronounced jaw was tense, so sharp that it looked like it could cut through steel. His eyes were cold, pale blue orbs, so intense that they sent shivers running down Megan's back as soon as he directed them at her.