Parties and late night drunken states meant everything when it came to Clover Paige; especially if it meant leaving her wild thoughts behind and losing herself in a bottle of Jack Daniels. Her name is just an illusion, you would think anyone named C...
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"It's always words that undress you." — zag
IF THERE WAS ONE THING CLOVER WAS GOOD AT, IT WOULD BE PUTTING UP A GOOD FIGHT.
"You bastard!" She yelled out between her teeth. The woman was thrashing within his hold, screaming and kicking as if she were a fussy two year old. "Let me go."
"No." Weston tugged her body closer to his and gripped the backs of her thighs even harder. Goosebumps eroded her baby-smooth skin from both the nippy air and his hands. Clover's groans echoed around the room, bouncing from wall to wall. She clenched her hands into fists and started to pound against his back. "Stop it!"
The feisty woman refused to end her assaults. She smacked him even harder, hitting his very muscular yet lean body. "Not until put me down."
Weston grumbled a few incoherent words but slid her body down from his shoulder, still holding a tight grip. "If I let go, will you not try to kick me in the balls again?"
"No promises." Clover told him whilst smirking.
I should've dumped her on the street when I had the chance, Weston thought. The woman in his arms was quickly becoming a nuisance and it hadn't even been a full twenty-four hours yet. He couldn't wait until news of the murder died down so she could finally leave.
What stuck in his head was the pressing question as to why he didn't just shoot her like he had already done to the man? Killing people wasn't something foreign to him, so why could he not pull the trigger? Miss Paige didn't vary from any other woman Weston had come into contact with. She reminded him of the girls he used to see at bars whenever he would go out for a night of self-loathing and pity. They were tiny vixens with seductive winks and wandering eyes. The thought of their motives revolted him. He would always be uncomfortable whenever a young girl adorned in a skimpy dress with a plunging neckline came up and whispered into his ear. Perhaps it was the way they held themselves; so desperate and yearning for a man to caress their skin and whisk them away. Weston couldn't help but feel sorry for them. He would never let his eyes travel past their chins and evade their privacy.
But there was something about her that made him stop and stare.
Weston was in awe whenever he saw Clover. Although he disliked the way she spoke, defying his authority whenever she got a chance, he was always entranced by her looks. In the short amount he's known her, from the night she stumbled upon his territory drunk out of her mind, to now, the man could not deny that she caused him to stir inside his pants.
He hoped in was just a small infatuation and that nothing more would come of it.
"So, are you going to put me down or continue to pretend like you're not groping my ass?"
The sultry voice of the exact woman he was just thinking about caused Weston's mind to rid of any thoughts and go blank. A crease formed between his brows and glanced over his shoulder to look at her. Cover was still dangling in his grasp and he almost felt apologetic when he saw that her head was a hue of pink from the blood rushing upwards.
In a matter of seconds, she was back on her feet.
Clover glared at him harshly, and wanted to yell at him for being so secretive about her friend. Instead of screeching out profanities, she lifted up her leg and kicked, directly aiming for the bulge behind his pants.
Weston bent over and bellowed in immense pain. His hands immediately flew to cup his sensitive spot and he looked up to throw daggers at the person responsible for his ache. "Bitch!"
"That's what you get for tossing me on the floor!" Clover retorted, her face getting hot from the anger bubbling within her.
Before all of this happened, both of them were sitting in the office chair as she scrolled through his computer. Weston had grew tired of trying to fight her off his lap and didn't want to receive another sharp blow to his ribs.
Clover had clicked on a specific folder when he fell enraged. She scrunched up her face in confusion but proceeded to go through it anyway. The girl had only made it through the first sentence before Weston threw her off of him.
"You were going through my things!" Weston screamed back, now on his knees still in agony. He shook his head as soon as he felt a headache coming on. "What's so important about Stefano anyway?"
She had to stop and think for a moment: yeah, why was she even furious upon hearing he was working for Weston? He was his own man, he could do whatever he pleased. "Nothing, I've just sucked him off once or twice."
"I don't understand." Weston began, he was slowly regaining back his strength from the hit, and climbed to his feet. "If you're just another one of his lousy whores he cheats on his wife with, why do you appear to care so much?"
Clover's jaw was clenched so tight that she could almost break a tooth. Her pale, green eyes darkened at the hurtful words being shot at her, now a somber shade of emerald. She was completely livid, and the girl wanted nothing more than to unleash her wrath upon him.
