Like icarus, drawn to the flaming sun, he craved to be burned by her.
𖤓
Rich girl SOLANA MCLAREN is a mess. When she gets kicked out of her family home, she's forced to move halfway across the country to live with her golden child brother, the one...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
S O L A N A
──● 𖤓 ●──
WHY DID I just say that?
I didn't get time to rethink my life decisions because he stormed up to me, towering over my 5'8 figure. "You know who I am?" His voice was low, deep, and threatening. It seemed like the entire club scene around us slowed to a halt, waiting to see what would happen.
"Should I?" I challenged.
A beat of silence passed. I let out the breath I was holding, and then he reacted. He grabbed my upper arm, dragging me down the crowds of people as they stared on in varying amounts of pity.
It was way too late to apologize and beg for mercy now. Typical. Not a single person looked directly into his or my eyes as the man dragged me down into a side hallway of the club floor. My struggles were in vain as his grip was too tough, and he brought me into a dark, secluded room and threw me onto the velvety couch. The room had a faint smell of old cigarette smoke, and the hum of the club's music could still be vaguely heard from the vents.
As the shock from the situation sobered me up, I was left with an overwhelming feeling of dread. There was nowhere to run.
Now I was panicking.
"Hey... listen... I didn't—"
"Cállate," he cut me off.
"'Kay," I muttered.
"Regístrala," he commanded the other men in the room with him. (Search her)
They snatched the little purse from my hands as well as my phone, immediately launching into a tyrannous hunt through my possessions. Another man, shorter and paler, his hands wandered over my dress, even though it was clear that I had nothing concealed on me. I scowled at his hands, swatting them away. "Get your hands fucking off of me, freak."
He cocked an eyebrow at this. "You from LA?"
As much as I hated to admit it, the valley girl accent had worn off on me. While Josef escaped it, all its inflections were firmly rooted in me and it made it painfully obvious to anyone who I was.
I narrowed my eyes. "So?"
"Nah, now it makes sense," he chuckled, "you're another bratty bitch that don't know her place. What's it this time? You tryna find yourself?" His tone was mocking and snide— I hated it and I hated him. "Or did Papi not give you enough money this month?"
